Page 28 of Hot Chocolate & Hitmen

Rage rears its ugly head, and I turn and rush up the stairs the best I can with the ache in my torso, not knowing where I’m going. I don’t get far when two soft, tiny hands grab my arm. I turn reactively, raising my fist, and Grace flinches away from me.

I want to.

I want to swing. I’m so angry. I’m disgusted. I want her to hurt like me. A throbbing face, for a throbbing face. But the reminder of why my entire upper body hurts stills my hand. They would kill me. And I’m far too young to die.

“What the fuck do you want?” I sneer down at her, and her eyes scan over my face.

“I just wanted to see if you’re okay. Your lip...Let me-”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I jerk away as she reaches out a hand again. “I have no idea where those hands have been.”

Her face pinches, hurt flooding her gaze, but I don’t care.

“You are such a fucking whore. Jumping into bed with criminals like it’s nothing.” I step closer to her, twisted delight filling my chest as she shrinks back. “How many guys have you fucked since you’ve been with me, huh? Since you’re just so fucking…willing.”

I can’t help myself. Pure, unequivocal rage has me reaching out on impulse. I grab her cunt beneath her thin robe and squeeze hard.

“Jason! Let go!” She squeals like a stuck pig and tries to push me off. I accredit it to my current physical state that she manages to shuck my touch with ease.

“Come on, you little whore. Don’t act like you don’t want it now. You were begging me for it just the other night.” I smile as I recall the night we got here. “The funny thing is, I had to shut you up and pretend it was Tina just to get off.”

Tears spring to her eyes, and I’mhappyfor all of two seconds before I’m suddenly shoved into a wall, the guy who assaulted me last night pinning me in place with his forearm crushing my windpipe.

“You just don’t learn, do you?” He hisses as I struggle weakly to dislodge him. Black spots gather at the edge of my vision. Over his shoulder, I watch Grace take a hesitant step forward, only for one of the others to wrap their arms around her waist, preventing her from interfering.

The pressure on my throat increases exponentially. “Here’s a Christmas lesson for you. Come near our present again and-”

His threats are lost on me as his hand darts out too fast for me to track. Wrenching one of my fingers back at an unnatural angle, I hear the snap of bone before I realize what he’s done. It takes a moment longer then white hot pain explodes in my hand, and darkness greets me.

Iwake up, consciousness bringing with it the awareness of the agonizing throbbing in my hand. I’m still on the floor in the hall where I was earlier. Discarded. Like trash.

Groaning, I use my good hand to push to my feet, the edges of my vision darkening slightly when I’m finally upright. I debate just limping my way back to the bed in the room with the hostage, but the smell of something delicious wafting fromdownstairs has my stomach gurgling painfully. I haven’t eaten in…well, a while.

The bastards who beat the fuck out of me are nowhere to be seen.

Neither is Grace.

Worry wars with simmering rage in my chest as I stagger toward the smells of what I'm sure is another extravagant meal my ex has cooked for her new boy toys.

They mustn't have seen or heard what I said to Grace just before they attacked me. Otherwise, I doubt I would have lived to tell the tale. Even so, I can’t find it in myself to be thankful as I find the group seated around the dining table mid-meal. Grace, having arranged fancy china and crystal glasses along with a fucking linen tablecloth draped perfectly across the table, sits there with a huge smile on her face. The entire scene is so sickeningly charming and domestic it makes me want to eat my own vomit.

Or it would, if the anticipation of food wasn't overriding every other impulse.

Four heads swivel in my direction when I step fully into the room. Grace shoots me a soft, barely there, almostapologeticsmile, like I didn't just catch her swapping spit with these brutes this morning. Before I can spit out a scathing remark about her lack of taste, the giant glares at me and deliberately scoops the remainder of every dish onto his and the others’ plates.

Grace doesn’t even notice, the bastard who broke my finger drawing her attention away from me effortlessly. They eat steadily, occasionally murmuring praise of the food that has Grace glowing, not once bothering to offer me any.

Jaw clenched so tightly my teeth creak, I yank open the freezer looking for anything edible inside. Settling on a cheap frozen meal, I rip the top off and shove it violently into the microwave.

My stomach cramps as I eat, objecting to the meager portion I scarf down, while twenty feet away, my girlfriend giggles and refills her new boyfriends’ glasses.

This vacation torekindle our relationshipsure took one hell of a detour. But if Grace thinks fluttering her lashes at these thugs means I'll step aside, she's woefully mistaken. I was willing to forgive her for being weak and pathetic enough to let them paw at her. But seeing the genuine joy on her face now?

She’s clearly lost her goddamn mind. I’ll be sure to remind her who she belongs to once I get her away from here.

After eating, I dump my pitiful frozen meal remnants in the trash with more force than necessary. The sound echoes in the now empty kitchen as quiet laughter floats down the corridor from further in the cabin—no doubt the group moving on to cozier activities.

My predictions are proven accurate when I locate them in the impressive home theater.

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