Page 41 of Black Sheep

“Get up.”

The rumble from her clenched jaw sounds like, “Fuck you.”

I reach down and grab her waist, pulling her upright. She staggers like a rag doll for several moments before she gains her feet. One hand pushes at mine while the other struggles to pull up her panties.

“Round two to me, I think.”

Her head snaps up, dark turbulent eyes lancing me through disheveled hair. “Fuck you.” This time the words are raw and succinct.

“No, thanks. Or at least not until a few things are repositioned to my satisfaction.”

She stills. “What does that mean?”

I reach out and smooth her hair off her face, the need to touch still a rabid fever in my veins.

“It means, sweetheart, that things are going to play out differently this time. Trust me on that.”

“What things?”

My fingers linger in her hair, and I feel a punch of satisfaction when she doesn’t push me away. “You’ll find out. For now, you will run back home to Finnan and tell him to fuck off. I won’t be visiting the house, and I won’t be having a conversation about Afghanistan.”

She gasps. “Axel, please.”

For the first time, I hear a stark note in her voice. It pierces the thick fog of arousal long enough for me to focus on other things besides the obscene cravings of my black soul

Bolton’s warning flashes in my head. Hot on its heels, B’s final words before I dismissed her. The questions I’m fighting off rush back, the demand for answers undeniable this time.

I take a step back, fist the hands that want nothing more than to drag her close, sniff the opiate of her skin.

I make a one-eighty-degree turn around the room, fighting an unexpected punch of something shockingly close to nostalgia. I face her again, note how small and mouth-wateringly breakable she looks without her five-inch heels and pulsating hatred. “I’m going to ask you a question now, Cleo. If you lie to me, I will know. So think very carefully before you answer.”

Chapter Ten

GAME ON

Her expression turns leery. Then resolute. She nods. “Okay.”

“Five days ago when I told you to deliver the message to Finnan, you said I didn’t know what he’d do if I sent you back empty-handed. What did you mean?”

Her expression shutters immediately. She attempts to look away. I capture her chin, raising her face to the light.

“You will not hide from me, not when you stand before me a ready and willing sacrificial lamb. Tell me.”

“Finnan doesn’t like to lose, you know that.”

“You’re generalizing. I prefer specificity. What did he do?”

“He was…having a drink when I told him. He smashed the glass. I called the maid to sweep it up. She took a little too long, he said. He beat her…dislocated her shoulder.”

That sounded like Finnan. Rage twists through me. About to let go of her, I sharpen my focus on her face. Her carefully blank face.

“What about you? You didn’t say what he did to you,” I press.

She shakes her head, or attempts to anyway. My firm hold of her doesn’t give much room for her to wriggle away from my demands.

A spark of anger flares into her eyes when I don’t release her. “Are you sure you want all the gory details, Axel? Have you never heard of discretion being the better part of valor?” she spits at me.

“I have. But let’s not kid ourselves that any one of us comes even close to being worthy of either of those words,” I snarl. “You obviously didn’t fuck him happy or he wouldn’t have sent you back to me the very next day.” The words taste like hot ashes in my mouth but, at the same time, I want her to confirm their accuracy.

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