Page 108 of Merciless

Despite the cold, my hunger, my anger, and my dead arms, I somehow manage to drift off to sleep.

I’ve lost all concept of time down here. I could sleep for twenty minutes, or twenty hours, and I’d have no idea.

I wake with a start, the threat of one of my regular nightmares is enough to drag me from the darkness. Not that the reality is much better.

I wriggle, hoping to loosen the pressure on my arms, but it’s pointless.

I open my eyes and part my lips, ready to shout for the two assholes who think this whole thing is funny as fuck, but I don’t get a chance to form any words because a high-pitched scream rips from my throat when I find a figure watching me from the doorway.

JD stands there with his hands deep in his pockets, his face swollen from a recent beating and dark bruising forming on his ribs.

“Can’t say you didn’t deserve it.”

“What, this?” he asks, gently dragging his palm up his abs and to his ribs. “It’s nothing. You should see the other guy.”

“Really?” I deadpan.

“I’m not just a pretty face, little dove.”

“Could have fooled me,” I mutter. “Are you here to finish the job you started or what?”

“Reid wants answers.”

“And I want to go home. But we can’t all get what we want, it seems,” I snark.

“Dove,” he warns.

“It’s my life, JD. My marriage. It has fuck all to do with Reid fucking Harris. Why Mav married me, why he was protecting me, isn’t for public knowledge.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just pushes from the doorway and prowls toward me.

His eyes leisurely work their way up my body.

I fight against reacting, but my temperature soars nonetheless.

“Haven’t you already had your fill?” I snap.

“Oh, Dove. You’ve no idea.”

When he’s done, he drops to his knees by the head of my bed and, thankfully, reaches for the cuffs.

“He doesn’t want your secrets to be public knowledge. He wants to know that whatever they are, aren’t going to be used against him.”

“They’re nothing to do with him, how could I use my secrets against him? It’s not like he was one of the men who—” I slam my lips shut with a gasp. And obviously, JD notices.

He releases both my wrists and holds one of them hostage, massaging my numb limbs.

I want to pull it away, refuse his touch and comfort, but I can’t.

It’s too good. The warmth of his fingers is too much.

“He isn’t one of the men who, what, little dove? What happened to you?”

I shake my head, refusing to give him anymore.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I whisper, finally pulling my hand from his grasp.

Every inch of me aches as I crawl from the cot and get to my feet.

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