Friends,
Fuck me. No, not literally. As in, I feel like a moron. I’m a moron whose day just got a little shitty. Just when you think you can trust a man, he goes and fucks it up. Doesn’t a little roll in the hay mean anything to people anymore? I’ve learned Mac is a rat bastard and I only like rope marks when it means I’m not about to be chopped up. This is definitely not Safe, Sane, or Consensual!
So, I’m not sure how I’m getting out of this. Mac is off the case and I’m a little tied up. Send safety shears and a dungeon monitor.
–
Was she hungover again because her head throbbed like she’d pounded a couple of forty ouncers and a bottle of tequila. She moved her head around on her shoulders and prayed for it to just fall off already.
It throbbed hard enough though that she wanted to lop it off herself.
“Jesus.” She muttered. “No more alcohol.”
“She’s finally joined the party, good.”
Terry cracked one eye open and then promptly shut it. It was too bright and she had to stare up at her boss’s smarmy face. She definitely wanted to roll back over and attempted to do it. Except every attempt to roll over was thwarted by something tying her down.
Pretending to lay still, Terry attempted to work out what bound her. The itchiness of the material told her it was rope. They’d bound her with her wrists tied together in front of her and her legs tied up to her thighs. She was flat on her back, going nowhere fast.
She flexed her wrists. Damn shame she was there under those circumstances because rope always got her going. Can’t savor lovely rope marks when you’re under duress or dead, could you?
“Ms. French, you’ve been out for a long while and I’ve got business elsewhere that requires my attention. Time to wake up.”
Something flicked her cheek, forcing her to open her eyes. Guess she could add “playing dead” to the list of things she couldn’t do. Not putting that on her CV.
It was too fucking bright and she had to squint to keep her eyes from watering so badly. And her damn boss’s face was still there.
He stood to one side of her and a brick wall was on the other side, blocking out the rest of the room.
“Can you just kill me already? I’m pretty sure my head is going to explode anyway.”
“I’m not going to kill you.”
Hooray! “Can I go then?”
“Unfortunately not. We have to address the matter of what you saw.”
“Saw? I didn’t see anything. I’m pretty sure I was too drunk to see much of anything at least. Excellent alcohol selection though.”
She tried to blink innocently up at him, but succeeded in looking like something was in her eye. He looked skeptical, his eyes narrowed on her. Okay, different tactic.
“Listen, I’m telling you I didn’t see anything. Even if I did, there’s no way I’d say anything. Who would believe me anyway? I’m a nobody from out of town. New here, barely had time to make friends.”
He crouched down beside where she lay on a… mattress? Do people just have mattresses in unmarked warehouses in the middle of nowhere? Seriously, she was stuck in the worst horror/kidnapping movie ever.
“I know exactly who you are and how long you’ve been with us. I’ve known about you since you got hired.”
Flattering, she supposed. She thought she did a good job of keeping a low profile, witnessing crimes aside.
His eyes made a slow track down her body. Terry was acutely aware that she’d been in the same dress for almost forty-eight hours and that said dress had inched up her thighs in the shuffle. She was exceedingly grateful they’d tied her legs together or he’d be getting an eyeful of her.
The way his mouth curled up sent a sliver of revulsion through her. He wasn’t ugly, with his full lips and strong jaw. But he adhered to the guido way of life a little too closely for her tastes. Big hair, Gym/Tan/Laundry, and an ultra white smile didn’t tick any of her boxes.
Mac suited her much better. With his longish hair and smile. Terry stopped her wandering thoughts. Mac was a bastard of epic proportions. She most definitely should not be thinking about him at a time like this. Her cunt should most definitely not be creaming at thoughts of him either. Get it together, girl.
“Why did you kill that guy? Is Joe from IT dead?”
In for a penny. May as well get the answers while she was there.
“They were fucking with my money. Never mess with my money. I had to send a message.”
“And Joe?”
“Was that the dweeb who pissed his pants when I shot at him? I’m afraid poor Joe is no longer with us. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”
Terry didn’t know what to say to that. Tears threatened to overwhelm her, but she held them back. Poor Joe.
“As I see it, we have two solutions to our problem.” He brushed a finger along her collarbone, sending goosebumps along her skin. Down that finger went, barely touching the curve of her breasts before moving the fabric aside to pinch her nipple. “And really, I’m being generous giving you a choice.”
Terry grit her, less keen as the minutes ticked by. “And what are the solutions?”
“I can bring you into the fold. A pretty girl like you would look good by my side. I have a feeling you’d enjoy the things I’d give you. Diamonds, nice clothing, cars.” He cupped her breast, squeezing at her flesh. Her nipple stood at attention in his palm. “You’d enjoy the things I did to you as well.”
There was no helping her body’s reaction, but her mind was sliding firmly into the ‘fuck no’ category. Even before she witnessed what he’d done, Terry heard whispers of how terrible he was to his girlfriends. She loved a bit of BDSM more than most girls, but the cruel twist of his mouth said the slaps would be ones she wouldn’t enjoy.
“Or?”
He laughed. That creeping hand was moving down her body to rest on her hip. “I’m surprised you didn’t jump on that. It’s a very generous offer.”
The urge to roll her eyes. Some guys and their fucked up opinion of women. She wasn’t in the market for a sugar daddy. Especially not one that had a habit of killing people he didn’t like.
“Humor me.”
“I hand you over to my guys and they get rid of you. Do you know how they like to dispose of people who can talk?”
The feeling of her dress sliding up her thigh to reveal her cunt made her grit her teeth harder. He continued talking, his eyes moving from her breast down to where he’d exposed. The excitement in his eyes made her sick.
“They like cutting out their tongues. Can’t talk without a tongue. Then your hands and your feet. They go until there’s nothing left to identify you as you. A shame really, you’re way too pretty to cut up.”
He insinuated his hand between her closed thighs, ignoring her squirming and her no.
“Stop it, Rocco.”
Mac’s voice cut through the silence. Terry wasn’t sure if she was happy to know he hadn’t just left her there or pissed that he’d lied to her. She wished she could see him, but her boss blocked out everything.
“Shut the fuck up, Macintyre. You’ve done what you were paid to do. Feel free to leave.”
“This is not what we agreed to when I said I’d do this.”
“Then you should read the fine print a little more closely, shouldn’t you?”
Two fingers wormed their way into her cunt. Invading her body in ways that didn’t make her feel at all aroused.
“Hot and wet, just how I like my bitches.” He leaned down to whisper those words in her ear. “Maybe I’ll just make the decision for you, Ms. French. I think it’ll be the best option for all of us.”
“No.”
Terry wasn’t sure who said it, her or Mac, but the next thing she knew Pauly was gone. The lights were extinguished, throwing the room in darkness.
Loud sounds and voices filled the room. A few pop-pop-pops echoed around her. Terry was alone, the sounds scary. No came came to her in the melee. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make herself as small as possible so she didn’t get hurt.
Finally, the noise died down. She shuddered from the rush of fear and adrenaline.
“Terry?”
Mac’s voice was almost a relief. She opened her eyes to find him above her. Concern marred his face, but he relaxed when he saw she was okay.
“Thank god.”
He reached to undo the rope, fixing her clothing as he released her. When she sat up, he pulled her into his arms for a hug so tight she could barely breathe.
They stayed like that for a long moment before he drew back to look at her. She took one look at him and slapped the shit out of him.
“Bastard,” she hissed.
He looked shocked, holding his cheek where she struck him. That morphed to guilt.
“I’m sorry, Terry.”
“So am I.”
The police swarmed around, separating them. Terry was escorted out of the building and bundled away before she could speak to Mac again.
