“What do you mean, no deal?” It’s the first time I’ve heard Mr. King angry. “The contract is perfect.”
The giant bouncers step forward and Mr. King grinds his teeth, cowed.
“No deal,” Jack repeats. He leans back in his chair. “Shares? I don’t want shares. I’m still shopping around with you and Skollz Corp. Meanwhile, you can pay some installments. You know what I trade in.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“You’re not in a position to object.”
Mr. King’s jaw is twitching and I’m literally shaking. I don’t know what the problem is, but I want the hell out of here.
“Mr. King,” I whisper, “Perhaps a counter-offer?”
He looks at me then, his eyes flickering. “You think so, Clark? You want to know what he trades in?”
Jack is smirking at me. He mouths a word I can’t understand. My skin is crawling.
“What?” I turn to Mr. King.
“Flesh,” shouts Jack with a dirty laugh. “Peachy white flesh like hers is pretty high in demand, King. Red pussy. She a natural?”
“She’s natural.”
My stomach sinks and my blood runs cold. I think of possible escape routes and the long grungy path to this room, but fight or flight kicks in and I twitch to run, but Mr. King’s arms close around me in a vice.
“Easy,” Mr. King whispers. “Easy, Clark.” He turns back to Jack. “You are suggesting I leave my assistant with you as a payment? This is not the type of arrangement we had discussed.”
“She’s kinda skittish though,” Jack observes dryly. The bouncers laugh. Now I can’t feel my hands, I’m so scared. Jack smacks the belly of the bouncer standing next to him, laughing at a private joke. “She’d do nicely for Bane.”
The snickering grows louder.
“Mr. King—Vincent.” I barely recognize my own panicked voice. “Get me out of here now, please. Please. Vincent. This isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not.” He agrees. He stares at me for a moment, computing, and mutters something under his breath. He turns to Jack, resigned. “What’s the going rate for a redhead these days?”
“Vincent!”
“Oh, I’d knock off say…fifty thousand?”
“What?” I shout. “This isn’t real, this can’t be real!”
Mr. King is holding me up. He looks at me with those sexy eyes, now cold, and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry Clark,” he murmurs. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t planning on this. You were a promising assistant.” He kisses my cheek and releases his grasp on me, turning to face Jack. “Consider this transfer of assets a show of good faith.”
Consternation and shock render me senseless. “What?!”
“Goodbye Clark.”
“You can’t leave me here,” I screech. “You can’t just sell people! Rachel will know! People know I was with you! They’ll know it was you! They’ll find me!”
“People disappear all the time.” Mr. King rips my purse from my hands, turns his back and is walking toward the door. “You signed over access to your social media and email accounts with your confidentiality clause. I can keep your life going all over the world for months before anyone grows suspicious. By then…well…let’s just say your future has changed.”
What. The. Fuck.
“No!” I explode. “NO! You can’t fucking leave me here! Vincent! You son of a bitch!”
My nails are clutching at something, anything, and I fasten myself on Mr. King’s shirt. It rips in my hands and I’m like a drowning woman, flailing, sinking. I grab at his belt, his legs.
Mr. King whirls around and punches me in the face, dropping me in a world of blinding pain. I’ve never been struck before and am in as much shock as pain, my entire body shaking. By now the two bouncers have closed in over us, separating us.
“Let me go!” I scream, frantic, kicking and clawing.
“Don’t damage my property,” Jack growls.
Mr. King shoots him a withering look.
“Look Clark,” he hisses at me, and I can see dark passion, anger, rage, and frustration in his face. “This isn’t what I wanted but this is not a game. These people do not fuck around, and you do not fuck around with them. Jack owns you now. And you will cooperate with Jack, or I will personally see to it that your little sister gets a bullet in the brain. Understand, Clark?”
Looking into those cold eyes, I believe him.
“No,” I plead. “Don’t do this.”
I thrash against the iron arms of the bouncers, but it’s useless. They’ve probably got three hundred pounds on me all together. My weight sags and my fury devolves into dry racking sobs that rattle my bones.
“Vincent, don’t!”
Mr. King turns and walks out of the room. As the door shuts me in, I hear Jack laughing.
“Welcome to the Death Layer, Red.”
D.L.
Death Layer.
Chapter Six
“Now, let’s see what we’ve got to work with here.” Jack is chuckling low and dirty, and the enormous bouncers spin me around to face him. “Open up.”
Before my brain can decipher what he means, I find my arms pinned in a vice-like grip by one bouncer as the other rips open my blouse.
“Stop!” I scream, thrashing. I kick with my legs, trying to find their insteps or balls but I can’t reach.
“Feisty bitch,” laughs Jack. “We just wanna take a look, Red. Don’t worry, we’ll save the touchy stuff for the Beast.”
“Fuck you,” I spit. “You sick bastard.”
The bouncer slaps me for that. Hard.
“Enough, I don’t have all night.” Jack snaps his fingers and the bouncer’s grip on my arms shifts, and now a thick bicep wraps around my throat and squeezes. Sputtering and gasping, I realize he’s cut off my air supply. Dots appear and dance in my vision. Tears form in my eyes as they frantically lock gazes with the giant squeezing my throat. His expression is blank, grim.
I try to gasp the word, “Please,” but can’t make sound, can’t even cough.
I feel my blouse come off in shreds. The fly to my jeans opens and I feel big fingers fumbling with the waistband.