Page 38 of Strider's Misstep

She snorts. “Believe me, it’s luxury compared to some of the places I’ve slept in. I was held hostage for six months. The ground I slept on was rocky desert.”

My hand covers my mouth.

Her face softens. “I, too, was raped. We’ve got more in common than you think, Jasmine.” Her tone becomes firmer. “And we both survived.”

Personally, I don’t think there’s too much common ground between us. She’s a real-life hero for a start. Her approach to our situation makes me feel ashamed. So as she lies back down, I do likewise, curling myself into a fetal position, trying to make belief I’m lying on something soft rather than this hard ground.

I try not to toss and turn so as not to disturb her, and at some point, I must fall asleep.

I’m woken abruptly by a sound at the door. First thing I notice is that Helo’s woken before me and has taken position standing by the entrance to the basement. She’s unarmed, as far as I can tell.

Footsteps sound. Helo hisses, “Put your hands behind your back.”

I’ve only a moment to do as she says when the door creaks open, and I freeze. It’s been three years since I last saw my husband, and I hoped I’d never see him again. I’d become too complacent, thinking he was a distant memory. But here he is now, and my first inclination is to vomit.

He saunters into the basement as if he owns the place, which he probably does. Only one guard accompanies him. Well, why would he need more? I’ve never put up a fight in my life, despite the times he’d hurt me. I now wonder why I’d been so compliant. If I’d fought back, I’d have died. But might that have been better than letting his men use me?

I’m not going back. I’m not going to do that again. I won’t let my father’s sacrifice be in vain.

I realise my heart’s pounding and I’m breathing too fast when Helo says softly, “Relax, Jasmine.”

Barclay stops in front of me. He spares a quick glance at my companion standing by the door, looking like her hands are still bound behind her, then dismisses her and returns his attention to me. He stares at me for a moment, looking me up and down, then sneers. “Christ, you’ve let yourself go.”

I’m dressed as an author who writes MC romance—a tee shirt with a Harley on it, jeans and boots. I thought I looked cute, though, obviously not to him.

“And you’re just a picture of health,” I snarkily respond, knowing I shouldn’t anger him but wanting to point out that he’s not exactly a catch with his alcohol-flushed cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

My response gets a sharp kick to my leg, and it takes all I have to keep my hands clasped behind me and only do so as I’ve locked my fingers together.

“You have no idea how much I hate you. Always hated you, in fact. There’s nothing about you that redeems the woman you are. You’re an ugly bitch.” He pauses and waits for a reaction, but I give him none. Words are just that and can’t hurt me. If he thinks I’ll be offended by his summation of me, then he’s wrong. I don’t give a damn. He sucks in a breath and suddenly screams at me. “You were always useless.” He spits at me now, and I onlyjust manage to turn my face in time. “You couldn’t even give me a kid.”

“Maybe it wasn’t me who was lacking.” I shouldn’t enrage him. I’ve never stood up to him before. But somehow, knowing Helo’s a hero makes me want to be strong.

He rears back. “I’ve gotten women pregnant,” he snarls.

Oh yeah, only a monster would be proud of that. “Then you don’t need me to produce an heir.”

He gives a skeletal grin. “But they weren’tmy wife.They either got rid of it or died.” He regards me for a moment. “But you’re right. I can find a more suitable woman to continue my bloodline. I don’t need you pregnant or even alive. It’s far better for me if you’re dead. I’ll get your inheritance left by your dear old dad.”

His manner of speaking is chilling, but knowing how wrong he is, I can’t help but snort. “My father had no money. He couldn’t give you more when he died.”

Barclay smiles that demonic smile again. “Have you never heard the term asset rich, cash poor?” For a moment, he almost looks sympathetic. “He had nothing to give me while he was alive, but what he left to you were all his buildings and businesses. More than enough to cover his debt.” Now he’s back to sneering. “You’re a rich woman, and you don’t even realise it. You spend your life whoring yourself out to bikers and writing smut to survive.”

“It’s not smut,” I snarl while realising that’s the least of things that should concern me.

He pinches the brow of his nose, looks like he’s thinking for a moment, then cheerily says, “I’ll be doing you a favour, letting you do some research. May even get new material.” His mirth disappears. “Such a shame you won’t be able to use it, but my men will enjoy fucking the life out of you. Take a good look around, as this is going to be the last place you’ll ever see.”

I take a step back. I knew what fate was in store for me as soon as myhusbandappeared, but I thought I’d have time, maybe even escape again, or have time so that the Wretched Soulz would come looking for us. Even if Strider doesn’t care about me, Chaz will come for Helo.Should I plead, beg for time, throw myself on his mercy?But he had none for me last time. And to him, money is worth far more than me.

He sneers at the distress that must be showing on my face, then moves his attention to Helo. “Didn’t expect any collateral benefits from reclaiming my wife. You? You’re definitely lacking in some areas, but I’m sure to find a market for you somewhere. I suspect my men would like to try you out.”

Helo’s completely still. She doesn’t so much as flinch at his appraisal. Her non-reaction catches him unaware.

“Come here,” he barks. “Let me get a good look at you.”

Helo had stayed quiet while he was berating me, but she’d obviously been summing him up. I could have told her Barclay always goes unarmed, letting others do his dirty work for him, but she’s obviously worked that out for herself. She obediently moves forward awkwardly, with her hands still held behind her back. But once close enough, she stops the pretence and turns into a whirling dervish of arms, legs and body, throwing herself at his bodyguard. The man is unarmed and unconscious before I can blink. And Barclay? Well, she’s got him held tight and captive before he can scream, with her hand over his mouth.

“You want to go through a divorce or want me to take care of him now?”

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