Page 79 of Code Name: Phoenix

Her gaze jumps around the room as I roll up my sleeves. She’s doing exactly what I would do in this situation. She’s scanning for weapons or an escape route—or both.

It’s self-preservation at its finest, and it’s instinctual in her.

There’s a reason I came in here unarmed. I want her to fight hard for the escape I won’t grant her. The truth is, I’m prepared for her this time. She’ll put up a good fight.

In the end, I know I can subdue her in less than a minute, but she’s building up some adrenaline, and I need her to burn through all of it before I begin.

“Yes, Jessa. I do.” At the finality in my words, she pales. It won’t just be my actions that bring her to where I need her, so I start to paint a picture with my words. “Let me tell you a story about my arm.” I lift my arm to show her which one I’m talking about as I roll up my sleeve. Her eyes follow my movement. “When I was a kid, I rode my bike down a hill near my house. It was a dare, and you know boys. We don’t back down from a good dare.”

I finish rolling up my sleeves and square myself on her as she takes another half step away from me and into the room.

“Long story short, I broke my arm. My mother cried, and my father yelled. My family lived paycheck to paycheck, and there was no money to deal with the actions of their foolish boy. But my uncle was a veterinarian, so he cast my arm the best he could and sent me on my way. Three weeks later, when the cast was removed, my arm was bent, and I still had a lot of pain in my fingers.” I pause for a long minute, waiting for Jessa to grow curious, and she doesn’t disappoint me.

“Wh-what happened?”

As I continue my story, I take cautious steps toward her, ever so slowly. I don’t think she’s registered that I’m approaching her, but she instinctively steps back until she is a foot away from the wall.

I pause two feet from her, my eyes locked on hers as I continue, speaking softly so I don’t alert her defenses.

“Well, my mom had a small savings stashed away, and she hauled my sorry ass into the doctor’s office. It turns out my broken bone didn’t heal right. So the doctor had to rebreak my arm, then set it properly in a cast. And now I think you’ll agree it works just fine.”

Jessa’s eyes widen as I close the remaining two steps between us and wrap my fingers around her throat, demanding all of her attention for my next words.

She struggles to free herself, but my grip is firm.

Bracing her upper body with my forearm, I pin her to the wall and continue, keeping my voice as detached and cold as Maxwell’s was in the video.

“You see, Jessa, you’re like my arm. You were broken, and you didn’t heal right. And the trouble with things that don’t heal properly is they need to be broken again so they can be set correctly.”

Her face crumples a split second before she strikes, and I’m ready for her.

Pushing my hand down between us, I deflect the knee that was heading straight for my groin and spin her around. Then I push her up against the wall and drop my weight against her.

“STOP! HELP ME!” She’s louder than I thought she would be, but it’s no use. This room is different from the others. It’s been soundproofed for our moredifficultinterrogations, and unless you are right outside, you won’t hear a thing.

Reaching in front of her, I tug at the cloth belt around her little robe and pull it loose. Then I step back and yank the neck of her robe down, ripping it off her and pulling her arms back, tangling them in her sleeves, leaving her in her shirt and underwear.

I pause for a moment to see if she’s run out of steam so soon, and she takes the break to step into me as she lifts her foot up to the wall in front of her for leverage.

She kicks off the wall hard, and we tumble backward into the room. I lose my footing, as I half expected her to jerk to the side.

When we fall to the floor, her weight hits me, and I grunt as the air is knocked out of me.

Jack’s girl is a feisty, unpredictable one.

Judging by her slow reaction, she didn’t expect her move to work either, and I take the opportunity to begin pushing her into the headspace she would have been in with Maxwell.

“Remember, Jessa. You brought this on yourself.” I choose my words carefully. I know she’s processing everything around her, and I’m hoping to match it up to some of her forgotten memories.

A sharp pain hits just below my rib cage on my left side. She rolls off me and pulls one hand free, but I’m back to standing as quick as she is—just in time to dodge a right hook wrapped in a robe.

Spinning on her feet, she realizes she is the closest one to the door now, and she runs, reaching out for the handle with her free hand. But I grab the cloth wrapped around her other hand and whip her back into the room.

I’m not gentle.

I can’t give her any indication that I’m on her side, or this won’t work.

She needs to completely understand that my priority is getting what I want—just like Maxwell’s was.

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