Page 137 of Carnal Urges

Lance. Of course he had to be alancecorporal, the fucking asshole.

When I don’t respond, the suit says, “Or how about your older brother, Drew? Perhaps his law practice needs a review from the state bar. I understand his ethics are what you’d call lacking. Something about sex with clients? Embezzling money? Bribing jurors?”

“Nice try. My brother’s ethics are pristine.”

He smiles his rabid-dog smile. “I’m sure we can manufacture something convincing.”

“I’m sure you could. Government workers are always manufacturing some kind of bullshit to cover up their incompetence.”

His smile grows wider. He knows I’m angry now. He smells blood in the air.

“And what about your friend, Natalie?” he says softly, eyes glittering. “How do you think she’d enjoy celebrating the rest of her birthdays inside a prison cell, thanks to you?”

I want to kill him. I want to kill him so much, I can almost hear his pathetic screams as he drowns in his own blood from the stab wound in his neck that I’ll give him.

Take a deep breath and remember who the fuck you are.

I close my eyes, count to four, then decide I don’t have time for the rest of the breathing exercise. I need to tell this guy to go fuck himself sooner than that.

Opening my eyes, I say calmly, “If you tried to put my friend in prison, her man would burn you alive. Then he’d burn Moose and Rocco here.” I shoot a dismissive glance at the two burly, uniformed Marines. “Then he’d find your mothers and burn them alive, too. Your siblings, also. And your pets. And your houses, your cars, and the towns you grew up in. So I won’t worry about her. She’s covered.

“As for my sister, brother, and dad? Well, I can’t control whathappens to them. Life’s a gamble, and I guess they rolled unlucky dice for being related to me. Besides, it really wouldn’t be my fault. You’re the douchebags who have the control. Whatever nasty thing happened would be on your conscience, not mine. So do what you have to do. Leave me chained to this chair forever. Lock me up and throw away the key.”

After a calculated pause, the suit says, “There are worse things we could do to you than imprison you, Miss Keller. I’m sure you can imagine what they are.”

Lance Corporal McAllister steps forward. He gazes down at me with a small, evil smile.

I almost laugh. Instead I heave a heavy sigh and nod my head. “I actually don’t have to imagine. I’m very familiar with the particular brand of savagery that useless, worthless, dickless males enjoy. Go ahead, guys. Do your worst. I still don’t know who Declan fucking O’Donnell is.”

Nothing happens for several moments. Then a tinny male voice crackles over a hidden speaker in the ceiling.

“Put her in C-9.”

The suit stands. Lance Corporal Fuckface walks behind me and unfastens my handcuffs from the chair. He hauls me to my feet with fingers like steel claws that dig into my biceps.

The suit says, “Have it your way, Miss Keller. The worst it is.”

They drag me from the room.

I manage to kick the suit in the kneecap on the way out. He falls to the floor, howling.

What a sissy.

THIRTY-SIX

DECLAN

Three and a half days later

“Where is she?” I roar, bursting through the conference room doors.“Where the fuck is she?”

“Easy, big guy,” says Grayson, rising from his chair at the long mahogany table. He’s got his hands up and an apologetic smile on his face. There are ten other men seated around the table, several of whom I recognize, a few I don’t.

But I spot that ugly fuck, Thomas Aquinas, the head of the High Value Detainee Interrogation Group, right away.

Grayson jumps in front of me as I lunge in his direction, snarling.

“Declan! Chill the fuck out!”