Page 22 of Covert Affair

Waylon laughs in my face. “Or what, Stacey?” he sneers and I do nothing because there’s nothing I can do that won’t make this worse. “Exactly. That’s what I thought.”

Thankfully he lets my face go and turns his attention back to his phone until we get to the hotel, which takes two long hours more than it should thanks to traffic and road work. The extended commute gives me plenty of time to figure out just how I can make that one phone call that could finally set me free.

There’s just one small problem once we get to the hotel. Turns out that Waylon’s not finished taking his anger out on me. He excuses Taylor and Stefan for the night, telling them that we won’t be leaving our room and suggesting that they should relax. Then, the minute we’re behind closed doors Waylon stalks toward me and not in the way that would turn a woman on. At all.

Fear builds in the pit of my stomach and for the first time, I’m truly afraid of the man in front of me. Sure, he’s been less than pleasant since the moment we moved in together, but never like this. It’s like something inside him has snapped.

“Wh…wh…what are you doing?”

“I heard a little rumor about my fiancée, today.”

Fiancée, my ass. There’s no sense in arguing that point right now though. “Oh?”

“Seems you’ve got yourself quite the fan base here in Tallahassee.” He catches me off guard when he smacks my face. “And you didn’t think to tell me that your former lover would be in the audience tonight?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” I do my best to get away from him but he twists my wrist behind my back, keeping me in place. There’s no way that he’d know if Cody was there. And that’s a pretty big if.

“Let. Go. Of. Me.”

“Not a chance, Darlin’. See, I’m going to remind you who you belong to.”

“No.” I take a deep breath and think back to the defense training I took. It takes a little patience and finesse on my part but I’m able to slip out of his grasp and connect my foot with his nuts. “Keep your fucking hands off of me. I don’t belong to anyone. Especially not you.”

Waylon groans in pain. “Bitch.”

“I’ve been called worse,” I mumble under my breath as he weakly lunges for me. Shit. “Waylon! Stop!” I scream, hoping that someone can hear me.

He moves even closer.

Fuck. I’m going to have to do the one thing I don’t want to do and play the game right back with him.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I really am. Let me make it up to you.” I plead, hoping that I can somehow get him to calm down enough for me to get help. “Come on. You know there’s no one else. Just you.” I bat my eyelashes for good measure.

“That’s right, Stacey. Just me,” he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in close. Close enough that I can smell the booze and feminine perfume. Perfume that’s about a hundred dollars too cheap to be mine.

The fear I felt in my gut only moments before is replaced with anger. The audacity of this controlling motherfucker. Accuse me of cheating when he smells like he’s been fooling around with some twenty-dollar whore.

Who the hell does he think he is?

“Kiss me,” he demands.

I’d rather puke all over the marble floor in this overpriced room that Waylon has no doubt billed to my expense account.

“How about, I go shower and freshen up for you first? I’ve packed a little surprise in my suitcase,” I wiggle my brows and fight back the gag as I run a finger down his chest.

“Mmmm. That sounds like a good idea, my little slut,” he growls and slaps my ass hard enough to nearly send me face first onto the floor when I turn around. Lucky for me the sorry bastard catches me before I fall. His fingers dig in too hard into my forearms and I know I’ll be adding those to the bruise tally marks. “Careful, you whore. I need you to keep that face nice and pretty for me.”

I snort. He wasn’t fucking worried about that when he slapped me senseless mere minutes ago. I’ll have to find some damn good cover up to hide that.

Waylon pulls me closer again, this time refusing to let go until I throw my head back and connect with his nose. I hear the crunch—I can add a killer headache to the list of things I’ll be dealing with in the morning.

He stumbles backward into the wall then slinks down to the floor with his hand pressed to his face to try and control the bleeding. He’s distracted enough that he fails to notice that I don’t just grab my suitcase when I head for the bathroom, but that I’m sure to grab my cell phone too.

I quickly lock the door behind me and turn on the shower then hide in the far corner. My hands tremble as I unlock my phone and find the one contact that I know is my only chance at getting out of this mess alive.

12

CODY

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