Page 8 of Betraying Family Vows
I'm restrained.
My mouth tastes like copper, whiskey, and something else. That last part is whatever the fuck she gave me, I'm sure.
I blink a few more times, clearing away the blur. The first thing that comes into view are my knees.
Where the hell are my pants?
I turn my head to the side and see a concrete wall. The other side shows the same. No windows either, so that's great.
I feel a chill and realize I'm in my boxer briefs and white undershirt. No clothes, which means no weapon. No phone.
Lifting my head up, my eyes squint as they adjust to the light above me. I shake my head a few times, and then I see her.
Standing right in front of me, still in that red dress, arms crossed under those perfect tits, eyes dark and intense.
"Look who's finally awake," she says, her voice sharper than before.
Seeing her kicks in some adrenaline, and I become as alert as I can be while the drug still lingers.
I take stock of my situation. Seated in a chair. Hands tied behind me. Ankles secured to the chair legs. I flex my fingers. They're stiff but working.
"If you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was ask." My voice is a bit hoarse, but I feel it coming back.
She steps closer, heels clinking on the concrete. "Witty remarks, huh? And here I thought you'd be upset."
My jaw aches, but I'm able to force a slow smile.
"Not yet."
She circles me like a predator, but everything screams like she's trying too hard. Trying to appear dangerous.
So she's an amateur. Interesting.
She comes back around and stops in front of me.
"Well, I've got three men behind you." She gestures with her chin. "In case you decide to get angry or get any stupid ideas."
I don't turn to look. I'm not even sure I could. Either she's lying or she isn't. Either way, acting predictable would be a mistake.
"And what ideas might those be?"
She bends down until we're eye to eye, and I can smell her perfume again. Earlier it got me going. Now it's making my trigger finger itch. "Escape. Killing me. Take your pick."
"If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already." My voice is flat. No threats here, just a fact.
Something flickers in her eyes. Uncertainty. She disguises it quickly with anger.
"Like you killed my father?"
I don't respond immediately. The list of men I've killed is long. Fathers, brothers, sons. To me, they were just targets. People in between my family and what it wanted.
"Which one was he?" I ask finally.
Her palm connects with my cheek so fast I barely see it coming. The slap stings, but I don't flinch.
"You don't even remember?" Her voice cracks. "You killed him, and you don't remember?"
I meet her gaze. "I don't always ask for names before I pull the trigger. Bad for business."
