Page 199 of House of Cards

I mean, I’ve survivedhim,haven’t I?

Smith trudges up the stairs with Elonzo’s gun at his back, as concerned as someone who’s late for an open house. Not like a man who just traded a woman’s dignity to save his own worthless skin.

I lock eyes with my favorite traitor.

He who looks so fucking sexy, even while being held captive. With his dark, tousled hair, clenched jaw, arm muscles bunching as he struggles in Miguel’s grip. His glasses are slightly askew, and all I want to do is straighten them.

When I look forward again, I catch movement in my peripheral vision. A human-shaped shadow by the small alcove on the other side of the landing. My heart leaps in relief, because I swear to God, that shadow was almost exactly Troy-shaped.

But then my brain catches up and hands me a reality check to cash. Not Troy or some other knight in shining armor, but a potted palm tree, its fronds shifting in the breeze of a nearby open window.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Now I’m hallucinating rescue scenarios.

Elonzo calls out something in Spanish, and Luis angles me toward the nearest open doorway. I can see the bottom corner of a bed through the gap. A guest suite like the one I was staying in the past few days.

So this is what Hell looks like.

“You gonna scream for me,puta?” Luis whispers, lips brushing my ear in a way that makes my skin try to crawl off my body. “I love tying them up and making them scream.”

My laugh sounds unhinged even to my own ears. “Of course you tie them up. Has anyoneeverfucked you willingly?”

The backhand comes fast, splitting my lip. Blood fills my mouth, metallic and warm. A loud buzz fills my ears, head lolling on my neck. It’s a fucking struggle not to lose myself to the sweet, heady darkness trying to suck me in.

Luis tugs me upright, chuckling. My eyes roll in their sockets as I try to focus on something real instead of the messed up kaleidoscope spinning around behind my eyelids.

A blurry Miguel hurries ahead. He shoves the door open all the way and ducks his head inside.

“Clear.” His eyes dart between me and the bedroom like he’s mentally measuring the distance.

Elonzo’s gaze lingers on him a little too long. He gestures toward the hallway with his gun. “Keep watch.”

Miguel’s face falls. “The fuck? I want in on this, too.”

Something shifts in the air as a lazy smile touches Elonzo’s mouth.

Luis’s grip on my arm tightens as he senses the change. Even the other goons seem to hold their breath.

And Smith? His normally blank canvas of a face shows the barest hint of satisfaction. Like he’s watching the dominoes he so carefully arranged fall.

Elonzo turns his voice into a mocking, high-pitched squeak. “I want in! I wantin!” He turns to Luis, chuckling. “Look at thismaricón?2.Getting pissy about table scraps.”

“These guys get a piece?—”

“These guys don’t demand.” Elonzo steps closer. “They grovel at my feet, and if Idodecide to give them some table scraps, they kiss my fucking hand for the honor.”

EvenIcan read the room better than Miguel, and I probably have a TBI.

“Come on,Patrón, I’ve earned—“ he whines.

“Earned what? The right to stick your dick in anything you want?” Elonzo’s smile is all teeth. “That’s your problem, Miguel. Always eyeing shit that isn’t yours.”

Miguel has the audacity to look offended, even daring to glance over at Luis for backup. But Luis abandons his ex-BFF’s sinking ship, staring down the hallway like the same potted-plant I spotted is giving him the heebie-jeebies too.

Hopeless, Miguel turns back to Elonzo. “Inever?—”

“Never stole scraps off my table?” Elonzo’s voice drops dangerously low. “Not even a little taste,cabrón?”