Page 28 of Too Late

“Get the fuck out of here,” Jon growls at Kevin.

Kevin takes in the scene: Jon pressed against me, one of his hands gripping my hips, the other around my throat, the fear in my expression. I try to shake my head to silently beg Kevin not to walk away, but he misreads the situation, because he laughs. Or … maybe he doesn’t misread it. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he’s just as sick as Jon. Kevin holds up his hands and says, “My bad, man,” and steps back outside.

What the fuck?

Jon spins me around and pushes me toward the living room, out of the kitchen. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. His hand is still clamped around my throat.

The living room is dark and empty and I try to fight my way out of his grip, but I’m getting weaker by the second with every drop of air he’s refusing to let me inhale. I can feel the panic set in, but I force it back down. I can’t lose control of myself right now.

He pushes me onto the couch and as soon as he releases his grip around my throat, I drag in gasp after gasp of air, coughing and sputtering until I have enough air in my lungs to scream. But before I’m able to do that, something cold is placed against my throat. Something sharp.

Oh, God.

I squeeze my eyes shut as soon as Jon’s other hand begins to push my knees apart. I have never felt terror like I feel right now. I’ve been in dangerous situations before—usually at the hands of Asa. But I’ve never feared for my life at the hands of Asa.

Jon is different. Jon would hurt me just to punish Asa.

His hand runs up my thigh and settles between my legs. I can feel my legs shaking from the fear that’s overtaking my entire body.

“Asa thinks everyone else’s girls are fair game, but he’s the only one who gets a piece of this?” He lowers his mouth to my ear. “He owes me a few favors, Sloan. And I need you to repay one right now.”

“Jon,” I choke out. “Please stop. Please.”

He brings his mouth to mine. “Say please again,” he whispers.

“Please,” I plead one more time.

“I like it when you beg.” His mouth crashes against mine and I immediately taste bile as it makes its way up my throat. There’s nothing gentle about his mouth as his tongue forces its way past my lips. The more I try to fight to free myself, the harder he presses the blade against my throat.

Through all the fear and all the struggling, I’m somehow still able to hear the quiet click of a gun.

Jon freezes on top of me and when I open my eyes, I see the metal tip of a gun pressed against his temple.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Carter says.

Oh, God. Thank you, Carter. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Jon’s hand slowly leaves my throat. He presses it against the back of the couch. “You’re gonna regret this,” he says to Carter.

I look up at Carter, seeing something in his eyes I’ve never seen before as he stares down at Jon.

“You’re wrong,” he says, his voice steady. “The only thing I’ll regret is not shooting you three seconds ago.”

Jon swallows and slowly begins to back away from me. Carter never pulls the gun from his head as Jon pulls himself to a seated position. Carter moves the gun to Jon’s forehead and stares down at him.

“Apologize to her.”

Jon doesn’t waste a breath. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice shaking.

I pull my legs away from him and scramble off the couch. I back away from the couch, behind Carter. I bring my hand to my throat and rub at it, trying to massage away the pain from Jon’s grip.

Carter takes a step away from Jon, but keeps the gun pointed at him.

“I think we both have secrets we’d like to keep from Asa. You didn’t see me in the kitchen with Sloan and I didn’t see you forcing yourself on top of her. You agree?” Carter says to him.

I don’t know how I feel about that—being their bartering tool. But I know if Jon goes to Asa with his suspicions of what he saw between me and Carter in the kitchen, Asa will hurt Carter. And that’s the last thing I want.

Jon nods. “I never saw a thing.”

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