Page 12 of Wild Card

That look so many women know too well.

Anger driven lust.

No.

“My father is a very powerful man.” I try to keep the stammer out of my voice. He looms over me. He’s not as big as Gio, but he’s still way bigger than I am, and I don’t have even a fraction of my usual strength. I push back on the filthy mattress.

“If he’s so powerful then why the fuck won’t he pay to get your sorry ass back?” He slips a leathery finger under the collar of my dress. I can feel the sharp point of his jagged fingernail. “Hmm? I thought I’d have heard something by now.”

“Don’t touch me.” I push his hand away. “If you touch me, he’ll kill you.”

It’s not the truth, but this creep doesn’t need to know that.

“I don’t know about that sweetheart. Maybe he’s with the cops right now, trying to figure out how to find you without paying me.”

His pupils are dilated, his nostrils flared and bloody. Oh great. He’s done a load of blow. As if he needed to be more dangerous. Fear shreds through me. I look around for any kind of weapon I could use against him, but there’s nothing.

“I’m getting paid one way or another. Where’s my fucking money?” He screams in my face, pushing my arms down and climbing on top of me. I shriek, and the mattress springs squeal in protest at his weight, digging painfully into my back. He clamps his heavy hand over my mouth, and I bite him, hard, but he doesn’t seem to register it.

This can’t be happening.

His other hand shoves up the hem of my dress, and I fight him with everything I have, thrashing, kicking, clawing. He manages to rip my panties at my hip, and even through his pants I can feel the disgusting heat of his erection pressed against the bare skin of my thigh. It burns me like a brand, and I wrench one hand free, dragging my nails across his craggy face.

“Fucking bitch!”

He grabs for my wrists again, snatching them with one hand and crushing them painfully against the wall. They’re already swollen and raw from the duct tape, and I cry out involuntarily at the pain. Rage at my helplessness chokes me as I struggle uselessly against him.

My throat is dry and inflamed. I won’t be able to scream much more. I have to be strategic, which is easier said than done given how fucking scared I am.

I go limp to give him the illusion of cooperation.

He moves his scaly hand up my thigh, his face inches from mine, his putrid breath burning my nostrils. Disgust and terror mix into a fetid lump in my stomach. It’s hard to stay still, but I do and he lets his guard down.

Summoning the last of my strength, I knee him as hard as I can in the balls.

He roars in pain, flattening his body over mine, but he doesn’t let go of my wrists.

I try to knee him again, and he pushes my thigh down with his leg, shoving it to the side of the bed.

Suddenly, his damp, heavy body lifts off of mine.

I force my eyes open.

Gio’s pushed Lorenzo against the wall.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Gio’s voice breaks like he has to force the words out.

“Pretty obvious don’t you think?”

Gio holds him there for a minute, his body tense. I want to curl up, hide how I’m practically naked now. I’ve never been ashamed of my body or my sexuality, but right now I wish I didn’t have a body at all. Wish men didn’t see me in the way that they do.

“I told you not to fucking touch her.”

“Don’t be such a pussy, kid.”

Gio lands an incredible punch on Lorenzo’s chin, smashing his head solidly into the wall. The older man slumps to the ground and Gio hovers over him, jamming a finger in his face.

“Don’t make me forget you’re family, Lorenzo.”

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