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Her jaws clench, but she shakes her head. “You’re bluffing. I’m not some prostitute you paid to abuse.”

Ah, so she has heard some things about me beyond what happened in school. “I don’t punish prostitutes. I don’t need to. Unlike you, they behave themselves.”

A flush darkens her cheeks, and my cock hardens. I love seeing girls blush, and she’s not going to be the exception. She’s going to prove the rule.

* * *

Laurel

As advertised, he’s twisted. I regret not breaking free and running when I had the chance. I could’ve tried to get away outside the poker house. Or when he stopped for a red light. Would he have chased me down on a public street? When businesses might have security cameras facing the sidewalk? Probably not. Instead, I sat politely in the passenger seat while he kidnapped me.

I blame his looks. Even now, when Trick’s actually said he’s going to break me down by beating me, I have trouble believing it. He’s handsome and calm, even flashes his smile occasionally.

Then I think about the way he sat with Enzo Palermo’s gun pressed to his head. He acted like that was nothing. He didn’t blink or grimace. Maybe there was a wince when the gun hit his head, but then he went back to neutral. How could anyone stay quiet during something like that? Most couldn’t, I answer myself. He’s not normal.

I look around for a weapon or a way to signal anyone nearby that I’m in trouble. The room has no windows. “What happened to you?”

“When?” he asks as he walks over.

“Whenever. What happened to make you this way?”

“What way is that?” he asks, taking my arm in his firm grip.

He’s all muscle. In clothes, he looks tall and lean, but without his shirt it’s clear he works out regularly. He’s got the shoulders, biceps, and six-pack of someone who’s well acquainted with the weight room of his local gym. If the criminal underworld ever does a calendar, he should be on the cover.

“Sadistic and homicidal.”

He flashes a smile, and it’s gorgeous. Ridiculously, it warms something inside me.

“That’s a personal question. Not something we’re gonna get into tonight.”

An unpleasant sensation twists in my chest. This is just business to him?

“But for the record, I’m not sadistic.”

“You have a room set up to torture women. What would you call it?”

“Dominant.”

“I may scream.”

“I’d imagine you will,” he says. Then he grabs me, and I start to thrash and fight, but it’s not the way I’d fight someone else. I don’t actually want to hurt him. I just want him to stop.

Unfortunately, he’s not halfhearted about what he’s doing. In seconds, I’m face down on the bed with my arm bent up into my back. He puts pressure on my wrist and elbow that turns painful. I shriek and stop fighting. The pressure eases, so he’s just holding my arm without hurting me.

“You can’t win,” he says. “Be good and lie still.”

Tears sting my eyes. “Don’t do this to me.”

“You’ve got that backward.Youbetrayedme. Now tell me what I want to know.”

Shivering because his hard tone is tough to take, I still manage to keep my own voice steady. “I don’t have to tell you anything. You already know all the reasons that you’re being targeted. And none of them have anything to do with me.”

“Tough talk. I’ll bet you five hundred bucks it takes me less than an hour to get you to tell me everything.”

His smugness infuriates me, but I don’t answer. Whenever I’m the most angry, I become silent.

He cuffs my left ankle into a padded restraint. Fighting to keep my right leg out of his grasp, I kick out over and over, but eventually he gets it and drags it down to shackle it in place.