Page 3 of Bitter Queen (Advantage Play 4)

He smirks. “Well, you can do it nicely and build the anticipation before the first hit, or you can do it the hard way with a single swing to the knee.”

Considering my options, I murmur, “I want him to know it’s coming.”

“Good choice.”

Digging through the cabinet, he grabs a little canister and offers it to me.

Hesitantly, I take it, making sure not to touch his calloused hands.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Smelling salts. It’s ammonia. Just put it under his nose, and he’ll wake up in no time.”

“You mean that actually works?” My tone is laced with disbelief.

He grins. It’s so boyish and carefree, you’d think we were discussing a sitcom or comedy act.

“Like a charm,” he answers.

Shaking off the effects of his smile, I do as I’m told and twist off the lid on the canister, then walk over to an unconscious Burlone. As I put the small canister under his nose, a bit of the salt spills onto Burlone’s stained dress shirt. I’m shaking. With every ounce of effort and determination I can find, I shove aside my fear, along with the knowledge that I’ll never be comfortable around a man again. Even the one watching me near the sociopath toy box.

Within seconds, Burlone wakes up with a gasp.

“What the fuck?” he murmurs, disoriented. Blinking rapidly, a very confused Burlone looks around the room. “Where the hell am I?”

Frozen, I simply stare at the bastard who ruined me, unsure of what to do next.

“Hello, Burlone,” Diece says conversationally, stepping in to back me up. “Q here would like to show you her appreciation for your hospitality over the past two weeks.”

Squinting his eyes, Burlone looks me up and down before tugging against the zip ties around his wrists that keep him strapped to the metal chair. “You! This is all your fault! She’s part of the FBI, Diece. Don’t listen to a word she has to say. She’s a liar. A filthy slut—”

I cut him off by slapping him as hard as I can. The palm of my hand stings from the impact, but the satisfaction I feel as his head snaps to one side and the angry mark on his cheek is enough to soothe it.

“Shut up, Burlone,” I spit. “I don’t want to hear a single word come out of your mouth unless I ask you a question. Understand?”

“Who the hell do you think you are, you filthy—”

Smack. My palm tingles, slightly burning as I hit him again.

“I said, shut up,” I seethe. “Do you remember what you said to me when we first met? How you were going to sell me to someone who would make me scream? How you wished it could be you, but you needed the money, and my virginity would go for a pretty penny?” The words nearly get clogged in my throat, but I choke them out. “Well, now it’s my turn.”

Lifting the bat, I aim for his leg like Diece instructed and savor the sound of his knee cap being crushed, accompanied by his crying as soon as the wood connects with it. The combination is like a balm to my soul, finally easing the ache inside of me.

So I do it again.

And again.

Until Diece’s thick forearms wrap around my waist, and he tugs me away, bringing me back to the present instead of the memories that I’ve been drowning in.

“Enough, Q. Enough.”

Looking over at Burlone, I finally see the damage I’ve done. His face is a messy pulp of skin and blood. His head hangs limp on his shoulders as his shirt soaks up the crimson liquid that flows onto it. It’s horrific and would’ve given me nightmares before I was kidnapped. But now I’m too jaded to care. His chest rises and falls unevenly, proving he’s still alive while I’m left feeling dead on the inside.

Angry, I lift the bat again, but Diece grabs it from me. “It’s enough,” he repeats.

I shake my head back and forth as my fraying emotions finally get the best of me.

“It’ll never be enough,” I sob. Clinging to Diece, I finally give in and grieve the loss of the girl I once was compared to the stranger I’ve become. “Never.”

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