Page 39 of Queen Of WildCards

Iclamped my thighs together and scowled at his taunt. "I'mfine howIam, thank you."

Hishand slipped between my knees, forcing them open just a fraction, andIbit back a whine at his nearness.Iwouldnotgive in to him.I'dfight him the whole way.Hemight have had me once already, but that was a mistake.Iblamed it on the adrenaline of being alive after such a daring escape.

"Openyour legs for me."

Hissinful voice was laced with an edge that could cut as surely as his knife, but still,Ifought him, hoping my will was strong enough to hold him at bay.

Hishand moved up a couple of inches, and he growled menacingly in the back of his throat. "Iwon't ask twice.You'dbetter learn that now, or we'll have some painful fun at home."

Home.Hesaid it like he was determined that it should be mine, too.Istill hadn't given up hope of being able to escape or them just letting me go.

Iwas delusional; sue me.

Grindingmy teeth asIobeyed, my legs spread to allow his hand to grip my inner thigh possessively as he wove in and out of afternoon traffic, a stupid grin on his face.Hedidn't move to raise his hand to the juncture of my legs, a factIwas immensely grateful for when we pulled up to his compound and in through whatshouldhave been a wrecked garage door.

Instead, it had been replaced with a brand new one somehow, a feat that had to have cost a substantial amount of money to have occurred in such a short time.

Myeyes flicked over toSpade, who still hadn't pulled his hand off my thigh.Surelyhe hadn't had time—

"Somethingyou wanna say, sweetheart?"

Hiscondescending tone set me on edge, andIhuffed, crossing my arms over my chest with no small amount of childish petulance. "Nope."

Hissmile widened. "Okaythen.Timeto unload and get you situated."

Istepped out of the car when he did, my eyes cast around us quizzically. "Youkeep spare rooms for guests in here?"

"No," he deadpanned, pulling my bags out of the backseat. "ButI'vegot two rooms, and you can use one of them.I'lleven let you pick which one you wanna sleep in."

Thetwo rooms, as it turned out, were his bedroom and his torture room, and there was no wayIwas staying in the latter.Thesmell of blood and sweat permeated the whole space, andIhad to choke back a gag asIstepped back into the bedroom and shook my head.

"I'msure as fuck not staying in there.Itsmells like you kill people in that fucking room."

Hisshoulders lifted in a half-assed shrug. "Maybeone or two, but likeItold you,Iprefer to leave them alive.Deadmen tell no tales, but battered and broken ones squeal like fucking pigs."

Iwatched as he tossed my bags on his bed, their heavy weight mussing up the sheets where they landed.Heflopped down into a nearby chair, wincing as it jarred his shoulder in the process.BeforeIcould say another word, though, a knock sounded at his door, and the two of us froze.

"Spade?Weneed to talk."

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

BLACKJACK

Ididn't want to read him the riot act.Ididn't want to talk at all, not ifIcould avoid it.SowhenAcedelegated the shit job of reporting back toSpadefor information on the man he used for street intel,Ionly did so because to fight him on it meant more words.

Wordsthat were better spent elsewhere, or not at all.

WhenIpulled into the garage,Inoted the new door, but though it confused me,Iwasn't too worried.Ifthere had been anything concerning that happened to damage the original,Spadewould have told us.

Wouldn'the?

Surelythe reckless fool wasn't as stupid asJokerwas around this girl.Imarched out of the garage and up the hall to the living quarters, bettingI'dfind his ass in his torture room, probably stringing the new girl up for his amusement.

Icouldn't tell why that had me concerned for her safety, but it did.

Shewas no meek and wilting flower, not after she'd put up such a fight in the alley to get away from us, but every person had their breaking point, and perhaps he was hers.Spadecertainly did have a way with people that usually sparked a bit of innate fear in them, even before he got close enough to put his hands on you.

Sowhen she opened his bedroom door in a new top and that same skirt, her hair mussed like someone had run their hands through it repeatedly, it didn't take much in the way of mental gymnastics to tell what he'd been up to.

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