Jae, on the other hand, had swallowed my narrative whole. His “interrogation” visits mostly consisted of him bringing me food and water, and allowing me to use the actual toilet. On his fourth visit, I pleaded to use the shower, and he let me have two minutes under the freezing spray.
Of course, he watched me the whole time, his eyes raking over my naked body in a way that was far too friendly for a captor. I was careful to angle my body away so he wouldn’t see the obvious bullet scar on my side, but that didn’t hide much of the rest of me.
When I was clean-ish and dressed in my dirty clothes once more, he escorted me back to my cell and left without hanging around to chat. I breathed a sigh of relief when he locked the door. His attention had been growing more familiar in the past few days, and it was leaving me with an uncomfortable feeling.
Not that I was morally opposed to fucking someone as a means to an end, and if I genuinely thought Jae would help me escape, then I’d have already tried that angle. But he wasn’t the one calling the shots, and I had a strong gut feeling that seducing Jae wouldn’t land well with Kai. I saw the way he’d stared at me that night… before he’d found my comms device. He had been confused and shocked, but underneath it was raw possession. The core message in the way he’d looked at me, was you’re mine .
The fact that none of his men had sexually assaulted me backed that theory.
The metal music started up again a minute later, and I stretched out on the floor. It was designed to drive a person insane, constantly overriding their thoughts and making them anxious . I’d discovered a long time ago how to filter it into white noise, so it didn’t really bother me.
I kept my gaze on the camera because I liked to think it would make whoever was watching—probably Kai—uncomfortable to have me staring at them. In tiny movements, hopefully small enough not to be noticed, I ran my body through some very light exercises. Hovering my legs just above the ground to train my abs. Soon enough, I’d get an opportunity to escape, and I would need to be strong.
Sometime later, the door to my cell burst open. I hadn’t heard anyone approaching, because the music was still pounding through the small space, so I was genuinely surprised when Sam hauled me up off the ground and threw me into a wall.
“You bitch! ” he screamed over the music. “You almost got them all killed! Again! It wasn’t enough to take Mauricio from us?”
Got who all killed? The rest of the team?
Sam had officially snapped, his blows rained down on me with the ferocity of a man on a mission. He wanted me to hurt. He wanted me to bleed. And then he wanted me dead.
Goddamn it, Sam, don’t make me break character just to put your dumb ass in its place.
“It’s all your fucking fault,” he screamed, his eyes red with unshed tears and his fist like a mallet slamming into my face. I let my body go limp, the punch knocking me to the floor. Carefully, I rolled to avoid taking his kick in the chest and analyzed his break in sanity.
Was the rest of his crew away right now? I guess their lives didn’t stop simply because they’d taken a hostage. But that information would have been nice to know sooner. This could have been the perfect opportunity for a jail break. Damn it all to hell.
Sam delivered a couple more vicious kicks as I rapidly assessed my options. Fight back now and make a break for it before the team returned? Or ride it out and trust that Kai’s orders were to keep me alive? If I left now, it’d be empty-handed. No copy of Kai’s phone and no confirmed kill. It’d forever be a black mark on my otherwise spotless record.
Regardless of the fact that I’d been sent on a suicide mission, undoubtedly by whoever wanted me dead, I wasn’t willing to sully my perfect contract completion record simply to save myself a few bruises. I’d complete this mission and send a huge middle finger to whoever had assigned me.
Not to mention collect one hell of a payday out of it.
But then Sam had to go and pull a gun on me.
“Please,” I sobbed, plastered against the floor, and looked up at him with my left eye rapidly swelling shut. “I didn’t do anything.” Yet. But I would have to soon if he didn’t back down.
The music cut off abruptly, and Sam flinched. He didn’t put the gun away, though, keeping it aimed at me as his chest heaved with ragged breaths.
“It was the same shooter,” he said in a hoarse, emotion-choked voice. “I know it. You know it. The man who murdered Mauricio just fired a grenade launcher at the rest of my team—my family —and it’s all your fault. I don’t even care who you work for now, I just want you dead .”
“Sam! Stop!” Jae bellowed, bursting into the cell and seizing Sam’s wrist. The gun went off, the crack of the shot echoing in the tiny cell and making my ears ring. The bullet lodged harmlessly in the wall, though, and Jae wrestled Sam out of the cell. I had noticed when we met that, for an Asian man, Jae had a lot of height and muscle bulk. More than Sam, anyway, and that was what counted here.
They didn’t shut the door, but my head was ringing too much to make out their heated argument in the corridor anyway. Sam had fucked me up this time, and I winced as I tried to push myself up from the floor.
Jae was right there a moment later, a gentle arm wrapped around my shoulders as he helped me stand. He muttered something under his breath about how Sam was going through some shit right now, but that had been crossing a line.
No shit, Sherlock. He almost shot me .
Instead of patching me up and leaving me in the cell, Jae picked me up in his arms like a baby and carried me out. Well, this was a new development.
The motion of being carried made my head swim, though, and my stomach rolled. Shit snacks. How hard had Sam hit me in the head? Darkness swept over my vision, and vertigo lurched through me. The motherfucker had given me a concussion, because I was about to pass the fuck out.
Panic flooded through my system as I woke, but I didn’t sit up with a gasp like the idiot women did in the movies. I woke, but I stayed dead still while I assessed my surroundings. I was in a bed. A real bed, not the camping mat and blanket I’d used in my cell since waking up in the cell.
It took a few moments to remember what had happened, and that was a few minutes too long. Fucking Sam had done more damage than I’d initially thought.
The room I was in was silent, no sounds of anyone else breathing in the vicinity. In the distance, I could pick up the gentle rush of tidal water lapping at a shore, and the squawk of birds, which said I was now above ground. How curious.
I peeled my lids open to look around and quickly realized that I could only see out of one eye. The other… I raised a hand to gently prod at my face. Yep, the other was swollen shut and tender as fuck. Nice. I bet I looked a damn treat .
Carefully, I levered myself up to sitting. My body screamed protests at me, but I just shoved the pain into the back of my mind, along with all the other useless human emotions like fear or self-preservation. I had no time for that crap, they just clouded reasonable decision-making.
The room I was in… it was no holding cell. It was someone’s room. Personal touches were everywhere, from the choice of furnishings to the artwork on the wall. Grunting with the effort it took, I climbed out of the queen size bed and hobbled over to the dresser. In addition to Sam’s beating, my feet were all still fucked up from Cyryl’s attempt to torture me. He’d given it his best, I’d commend him for that.