Page 3 of His to Burn
He trailed his thumb across my bottom lip, the contrast of his rough skin against my soft flesh making me tremble.
Then he leaned forward, close enough that his lips brushed my ear.
“Keep that pretty mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for you.”
I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms.
I should have slapped him.
Four hours ago, Iwouldhave slapped him.
Now, all I could do was stand there, my pulse pounding against his hand and my gaze locked on his.
Something I couldn’t read shifted in his eyes.
Then he loosened his grip on my neck, his thumb dragging another mocking sweep across my skin, and grabbed my wrist in his bruising hold.
“Move.”
A distant scream punctuated his words.
Before I could speak, he was walking again.
Dragging me deeper into the darkness.
TWO
Jack
Four hours ago…
The courthouse should have been busier.
The security checkpoint at the front desk had six empty chairs.
Only one guard sat slumped there, bored and seemingly disengaged, but I noticed he kept a hand on his pistol.
He expected trouble.
I knew the feeling well, that faint wrongness that kept my head on a swivel and all the exits mapped.
The psych eval called it hypervigilance.
I called it common fucking sense.
“Quiet day, huh?” I said, voice low.
The guard snorted but didn’t bother to look up. “I wish.”
He waved me through the metal detector and ignored the beep.
That told me more than words could have.
This morning, there were less than thirty people in the courthouse rotunda, but there was seating for at least twice that amount.
“You’d think the brains of this operation would?—”
Whatever the guard was going to say was cut off by the piercing squawk of the walkie talkie on his shoulder. “Powell, come in.”
