Page 13 of Oh, Hell No

He answered on the first ring.

“You talked to Wilder,” he said.

“Yeah,” I replied, although he’d said it as more of a statement, not a question.

“What have you gotten out of her today?”

Nothing. I had gotten nothing.

After I had left her this morning, I couldn’t go back. She was about to spend her third night down there, and I wasn’t sure I could witness it. Even in the low lights, I could see she was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. It would be worse now.

“She’s still claiming she knows nothing. I think she might have started to believe what I’d told her about Perry. Especially since he’s not come for her yet.”

Linc was silent for a moment, and I felt my stomach knot up.

“All right, you’re gonna need to go make her talk, Oz. She’s got a high tolerance for being uncomfortable, it seems. Damn.” He sighed as if he hated this as much as I did. “Don’t feed her tonight. Let her suffer a third night down there, and then in the morning, go ask some questions. Press her. Use your Glock if you have to. Scare her with it. Threaten her. You know what to do. Surely, she’ll talk then. If that doesn’t work, then, hell, I guess try taking a whip to her. I don’t think she’s the kind who will get off on that.”

He needed to stop with the suggestions.

“I’ll handle it,” I said gruffly before he could say any more.

I would most definitely not take a whip to her ass. My damn cock was already getting hard, thinking about it.

Jesus, Linc.

“We need something from her. They might be on his trail, but this is on us. I don’t want Blaise thinking we can’t handle our shit. I’d say press her tonight, but I think making her desperate will help.”

I knew that. I also knew this was on ME. Not us.

“I got it. I’ll get something,” I assured him.

“I’ll be waiting,” he replied, then ended the call.

“Dammit,” I hissed, slamming the phone down with more force than I should with a burner.

Perry was a dead man. Thatcher had better not kill him before I got my hands on the piece of shit.

Seven

Winslet

Were those spots? I thought they were spots. I blinked, and there they were again.

I picked up my bottle of water and took another small sip. I had about one drink left, and as dry as my mouth was, I knew I needed to save that for when I woke up. I had struggled this morning with my dry mouth and not having saliva to swallow until Oz appeared with my tiny portion of water.

The good news was, my stomach wasn’t rumbling anymore. Either I was so dehydrated that things weren’t working properly or my body was adjusting.

What were the spots about though? They were baffling. It was so dark down here that I shouldn’t see spots floating around.

Footsteps filled the silence, but I didn’t jump up this time. Mostly because I didn’t have the energy. Sitting here on the floor was fine. I was tired, but I couldn’t sleep.

Was it morning already? Had I stared at spots all night? I hoped it was another day. I would get more water. If I could have perked up, I would have. But that required more than I had to give right now.

The rattling of the key, the swinging open of the gate—all things that were morning signs. What did I know? There was no sunlight down here or a clock. I had no clue if he was bringing me water in the morning or in the middle of the night. Heck, he could be stopping by at lunch every day.

The flashlight looked like it was coming from his phone this time. I waited quietly, wondering what news he would bring me now. I only heard one set of footsteps, so I knew my brother hadn’t shown up to save me. Not that he’d be saving me alone. Oz would have him locked up down here with me. Doing much worse things to him from the way he had talked.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes, trying to get that image out of my head. When you spent the majority of your life protecting someone, it was hard to navigate a situation where you were powerless to help them.

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