Page 35 of Mex

I think his name is Fury.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ Prez, what the fuck kind of show are you runnin’ here?”

“I’m gettin’ answers,” Western barks. “Do not question me.”

“She’s a woman,” he snarls.

My eyes flutter open, and I see it’s Fury who is speaking on my behalf.

“She’s a fuckin’ viper.”

“Rude,” I mutter.

Western turns to me, his eyes wild and unhinged.

“Answer the fuckin’ questions or it’ll continue.”

“I’m not answering your fucking questions,” I grind out, “unless you decide to work alongside me, otherwise, you can do whatever you want but nothing will get me to speak.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Walking to the table, he picks up a large set of multigrips. He turns toward me, holding them up. “Ever lost a finger?”

My heart jumps into my throat, but I don’t show it.

“No,” I say casually, “but I’ve got ten so I’m sure I can go without a few.”

Western storms toward me but Colt steps in front of him. “Raised you better, son,” he growls, low. “This ain’t the way.”

“She’s got what we need,” Western barks. “Stand down.”

“Bein’ an abusive asshole ain’t goin’ to get what we need,” Colt growls.

“Listen to your daddy, Western,” I taunt, “Be a good boy.”

Western’s boot launches out, just past Colt, and he kicks my chair over.

Once again, I land on the ground with a thump.

This time it knocks me clean out.

I don’t even know that’s happened until I wake up maybe minutes later, to find my hands are freed and I’m lying on the ground beside the chair, Mex kneeling down next to me. Those mother fuckers knocked me out. Done with playing nice, my fist launches up and connects with his jaw, as hard as I possibly can. I helped him out, I saved his ass, and he is allowing them to beat me like a dog.

Not on my watch.

Stumbling backward, Mex growls a curse as I roll to my side and push up. There is blood on the concrete below me, and I know it’s coming from my head. Animals, that’s all they are. If they think I’m going to cooperate after this, they’re sadly mistaken. Pushing to my feet, I sway as my vision blurs. Western has a gun pointed at me already. Like I fucking care.

“Kill me,” I snap, using my sleeve to wipe the blood off my face. “You’ll get fucking nothing then. I was willing to share information if you just stopped keeping me like a prisoner, but you would much rather torture me than go the easy way. If you want to shoot me, go ahead, I’m done here.”

I open my arms wide, challenging him to shoot me.

He doesn’t.

I take a step toward the door, but Mex is suddenly in front of me, a small trail of blood trickling out of his nose from where I hit him. “We’ll work with you.”

“Mex,” Western barks. “Stand down.”

Mex turns to stare at him, his eyes hard. “I said, we’ll work with her. Don’t like it, take it out on me. She has what we need, and we’re not goin’ to get it any other way. Not left with much of a choice.”

---