I rip open the envelope and say, “Oh yeah? What’d it say?”
“They’re recruiting for service members with prior experience. Sweet bonuses, too. I saw it and thought of you. I know how much you miss the Corps. And I know you hate being a fucking business owner.”
“Fuck you. What does the Corps need with a washed up grunt?” I try to mask my interest, but I’m sure I fail miserably.
“I’m forwarding the info to you now.” His voice turns serious. “I know that place means a lot to you man, trust me. But I’m telling you. You shouldn’t pass this up. You miss the Corps like I do, man. And I’d go back in a second if I could.”
“I know you would.”
“You’ll think about it?”
“Yeah, man, of course I will.” I toss the foreclosure notice onto the desk with the others and lean back into the chair. I run a hand over my face. “You sending it over now?”
“Already done.”
“I appreciate you having my back.”
“Always. Anyway, hit me up if you do re-up, you lucky bastard.”
“Go suck a dick,” I say in response.
Grady clicks off and I toss my phone on the desk.
My eyes flick over the wall in front of me and land on the photo of Sofie, smiling huge for the camera. For me. The picture was taken the day before she left my life for good.
I get to my feet and turn off all the lights. Now that the boys are taken care of, getting out of Nassau doesn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.
Past
TEARS WELL IN my eyes and blur the darkened parking lot. I squeak out a protest against his sweaty palm as he starts to drag me behind the gym. My feet scrabble against the cement as I try to keep up with his long strides. There’s no breaking his hold—it’s like trying to fight against solid rock.
He shoulders his way through a door propped open with a brick and plunges us into darkness. My heart trips over itself and white spots dance in front of my eyes. I can’t seem to catch my breath and I choke on the stale air from the deserted room he pulls me into.
This can’t be happening.
One shove sends me flying through the shadows and I trip over my own feet, landing on a pile of old mats that smell like plastic, sweat, and feet. I turn to my back and try to get to my feet, but a hand appears and shoves me back down on my back.
“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he says, his hands running over my shirt, cupping and squeezing my breasts through the material. “Now,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, “now you’re all mine.”
My thoughts grind to a halt and I panic, freezing as they slip underneath my shirt and grasp at my bra. For an eternity he fondles, pinching and tugging his way underneath the cups until he touches bare skin. At that, everything speeds back up and I surge up, slapping away his hands, biting, and clawing.
He sits up on his knees and draws his right arm away, then backhands me so hard my teeth clank together and I taste blood. “Fucking bitch.” His left hand comes to my throat and presses me into the mat, my head vibrating from the blow and the rapidly decreasing availability of oxygen.
My phone dings, causing my heart to thump heavily against my ribs. Damian chuckles as he reads the message on the screen. “What’s your passcode?” he asks.
When I don’t respond immediately his right hand disappears for a second and then returns, flashing something thin and metallic, even with the lack of light. My body goes still as he brings the blade closer. He traces the curve of my cheek, presses the flat of it against my lips, parting them to knock against my teeth.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he says lowly, exposing my throat and pressing the knife against the thump of my heartbeat.
“2008,” I whisper.
He taps the code in and sends a message to whoever texted. “There. Now he won’t be bothering us,” he says.
“Wh-what did you do?” But I’m not sure if I want to know.
He grins and his teeth flash in the darkness. “Just making sure we won’t be interrupted.” His body slithers over mine, his weight pressing me into the mats. “I saw the way you were looking at me. We don’t have to tell Jack. It can be our little secret.” His eyes gleam in the darkness, his mouth is a menacing slash above me.
“Please, don’t,” I whisper. Tears seep from my eyes and I pull Jack’s face to the forefront of my mind as Damian grinds himself between my legs, unhearing to my cries. He’s just a few rooms away, just a few steps, and yet I’ve never felt so completely removed from him.
Damian tugs at the button on my jeans, jerking them down and off my legs along with my shoes. A breath whistles through his teeth. A hand, gentler this time, slides up my leg from calf to knee eliciting a shiver. Teeth flash above me. “Oh, you like that, huh?”
I shake my head against the mat, bile rising in my throat. “No, please, stop. Just let me go,” I plead.
“Oh, no,” he says softly, his fingers tracing my panties. “I think you do like this.”