“I’m as bare as the day I was born, so you’re shit out of luck.”
“I know my way around your pussy, princess.” He smirks, and a dark glint flashes in his eyes. “And there are other forms of payback.”
I jab my finger in his arm. “You owed me that, and now, you owe me again.”
“Is that why you did it?” His fingers dig into the steering wheel, and a muscle pops in his jaw.
He need not elaborate because I know what he’s talking about. “I did it because I wanted to fuck Caz and you need to learn to share. You’re done cockblocking me.”
He grips the steering wheel tighter but doesn’t reply.
“I’ll have no issue passing those tests,” I say, putting this conversation back where it needs to go. “How soon will I be out of there?”
“You’ll stay a minimum of a week, and I wouldn’t get too cocky. You’ll be head to head against other members.” His eyes drill into mine. “Other male members.”
“Most all of my training was against guys,” I admit, enjoying the look of displeasure that creeps across his face.
“You’re still inferior physically. No amount of skill can compensate for that.”
“I know men are physically stronger than women, but that doesn’t mean women can’t win in a physical fight. Being lighter on foot has its advantages, and it’s as much about mental resilience as it is physical.”
“How long have you been training with him?” He looks like the question pains him to ask it.
“Since I was thirteen.”
His head whips to mine. “Since…”
“Your father kidnapped and tortured me. My dad wanted to make sure if anything happened to me again I could at least protect myself better.”
The car slams to a halt in the middle of the highway. Brakes screech and horns blare as cars swerve to avoid plowing into us.
“What the actual fuck is your problem?” I roar, throwing my hands up. “Do you have a fucking death wish?”
He flips the hazard lights on and kills the engine as his cell pings. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Caz parked behind us, flipping his finger up at passing cars as they blow their horns and shake angry fists in both our directions.
Turning to face me, Saint grips my face in his hands. “I need to know if he touched you, Lo.” His eyes scream, and I wonder if he truly cares or if he can’t stand the thought of Sinner touching what he considers his.
I convince myself it’s the latter, because it’s the easiest one to process and it enables me to remain detached.
“Did my father or any of those other bastards rape you?”
“What if I said they did?”
His chest heaves, and anger blazes in his eyes. “Then, they’re all fucking dead.”
“Killing them might seem like an easy solution,” I say, “but they deserve to rot in jail for their crimes. Dying is too easy.” I place my hand on top of one of his. “They didn’t rape me or touch me like that although they stripped me to my underwear, and I felt their pervy eyes on me all the time.” It was an effective form of psychological torture, and I spent that entire time waiting for them to take it further. It made me feel vulnerable and weak and utterly helpless.
He pulls my face to his, pressing his lips against mine. His kiss is hard and blistering with simmering violence. When he pulls back, it feels like my mouth’s just been assaulted. “They’re sick fucks, Lo, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d told me they had raped you.” He rubs my mouth, ignoring his cell when it vibrates again. “You’re older and sexier now, and that psycho dictates what you do for initiation. It scares me.”
All the color drains from my face. “You mean he could force me into having sex with him?”
He nods, and now, I get why he made the call on the safe house.
“Or it could be worse,” he adds.
Understanding dawns, and I shake my head as bile swims up my throat. “There are many things I’m prepared to do to see this through, but letting those assholes have sex with me, one after another, is not one of them.”
“That’s not happening,” he agrees. “If it comes down to it, we’ll find a loophole.” I’d like to believe his words, but the troubled look on his face speaks volumes, and acid crawls up my throat at the thought of what that psycho has planned for me.
For all our sakes, I hope Sinner doesn’t make that a task, because if I have to resort to murder to avoid being abused by him and his buddies, I won’t hesitate to take out every one of them, consequences be damned.
CHAPTER 9
Harlow
WE ARRIVE AT the training facility on the outskirts of the sprawling town of Mantiss just after lunch. High wooden gates conceal the compound, and a tall gray wall borders it on all sides. Barbed wire sits atop the wall along with several mounted cameras.
Security is clearly tight, but is it to keep people out or to keep the trainees in?
Saint presses the button on the small keypad attached to the wall, and after he has confirmed our names, the gates automatically open to let us through. Saint drives along the winding driveway for a few miles, and I stare out the window at the thickly wooded area. All I can see on every side are trees and more trees. It’s been raining, and drops of water drip in a steady line from the branches, adding to the soft rivers of water trickling down the gravel driveway as we advance.
The driveway gives way to a large opening, and an impressive building comes into view. Saint parks in front of the entrance, and I hop out, eager to stretch my limbs after so long in the car.
“Here,” he says, rounding the car and holding out an iPhone. “This isn’t secure, so be careful what you use it for. Check in daily.”
“I will,” I agree, slipping it into my pocket, alongside my burner cell. “Thanks.”
“They won’t let you take weapons with you. I’ll safeguard your knife.”
“I’m not parting with my knife.” I fold my arms, stabbing him with a warning look. “And I’ll gut anyone who attempts to take it from me.”
“Lo, you can’t ruffle feathers here. Sinner will go apeshit if you embarrass him.”
“You say that like it’ll deter me.”
“I know it will because you’re too smart to be this dumb.” He steps right into my face. “The quickest way you’ll get out of here is to pass all the tests and keep your head down and avoid trouble.” His hand lands on my hip. “If you piss him off, he’ll devise the worst initiation tasks imaginable.”
“He’ll do that anyway.”
“We don’t know that for sure, and it’s not smart to antagonize him.”
I know he makes sense, but it’ll kill me to act like some Mary Sue; however, I don’t have any choice. Bending down, I roll up the end of my jeans and unstrap my Strider SMF from my calf. Straightening up, I hand it to him. “This feels like I’m handing my firstborn child to the devil,” I admit, and he grins.
He unsheathes my knife, admiring it. “I’ll guard it with my life.”
“Don’t use it,” I warn, narrowing my eyes to slits. “I don’t want some murder attributed to me while I’m gone.”