Page 8 of Clinch'd

He pulls me forward without care for my struggle in the shoes, and I stumble along glaring at the back of my captor’s head. Not that he notices or gives a shit.

The masses part for him saving me the extra pain and down a hall we go, the darkness sending a warning chill down my spine. But I have no time to process anything before I’m pushed into a room, with the door closed behind me.

It’s not hard to spot Beast and I stare at his back blankly, my stomach lurching because I forgot how fucking huge, he is. He towers over my short ass, his bare arms gleaming in the low light, the circumference surely larger than my damn thighs.

Holy shit. My lungs freeze and I wheeze out a breath when he turns and looks me over with furrowed brows.

We’re the only ones in the room, and it’s dark with only a chair and a fucking stripper pole behind him. What the fuck?

“Who’re you?” he growls, his eyes dropping to my heaving tits.

Okay, score one for the dress but his attention feels skeevy at best, terrifying at worst. I’m alone with this guy and he could easily overpower me.

Licking my lips, I say softly, “I’m Minnie.”

He finally raises his gaze from my chest, his brow crinkling before he says, “Who?”

Clearing my throat, I say, “Lorri.”

His eyes go impossibly wide, and he scowls before grabbing my chin and growling, “What's your game?”

Suppressing the wince, I meet his hard gaze and try to project a confidence I don’t feel. He could crush me with his hands and I’m at his mercy. Please lord let me get out of this shit show unscathed.

“Lorri. Please, I’m her sister,” I whisper.

Searching my eyes, he finally says quietly, “Where is she?”

“Hopefully home safe where she’ll remain,” I say, pleading with him silently.

He drops my chin before stepping back and with an acidic expression he says, “You just made it ten times harder.”

“Huh?” I ask, my heart pounding so heavily I can feel it in my temple. Is he going to play along?

Sighing, he runs his hands over his bald head before he mutters, “You’re not Jackson’s type.”

“Oh,” I say quietly, damning myself for the humiliated flush that rises in my cheeks. I mean I knew I wouldn’t pass muster but to have him say it aloud is decidedly painful.

“The plan was to bring you around as my side piece, but that’s not going to work,” he says.

Right, apparently, I’m not his type either. Wonderful. Maybe Suit could come along and confirm my lack of desirableness, too. Fuck me.

“How would that work anyway?” I ask, trying to focus on the issue at hand. It doesn’t matter if Cooper Jackson finds me attractive, because they’re sending me in to spy on him at the threat to Lorri’s life. Focus for fucks sake.

“The dick likes to fuck my bitches,” he says.

Sucking in a painful breath I don’t know what to focus on first but I’m assuming a lecture on women’s rights and calling us bitches won’t be received kindly. Instead, I sigh heavily and file away the information about Cooper stealing away Beast’s dates for a later time. Why would he care who Beast is with?

“Okay, um. What if maybe, I was your cousin or something? Maybe that would be a challenge?”

I have no idea why Cooper cares to begin with but if it’s a competition I would assume bagging his relation would be worse? And for the record I ignore the sweet slide that runs through me at the thought of fucking Cooper.

I’ve been perseverating on his pecs that were deliciously right up in my face since I left the club. Unfortunately he wandered away before I could get more than a drool worthy glance butit’s probably for the best because I might not have been able to contain my itchy palms.

He studies me blankly for a minute before slowly nodding, “That could work. The sick fuck gets off on pissing me off.”

“Why?” I ask, curiosity overcoming good sense. I shouldn’t be asking this fucker anything. I’m not here for any reason other than to save my damn harebrained sister.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll try it your way, but don’t fuck this up. My fucking reputation is on the line,” he growls.

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