Page 162 of Deep Cover

There was panic in her face when she looked at me. "The drugs," she said.

I started the car and pulled away from her apartment. We'd go get pizza by the water and head back to the plane. If she didn't take control, I would.

"What about them? And which ones?"

The look she gave me – Are you crazy or stupid? – guaranteed her the crop tomorrow morning.

"The rainforest cure."

I nodded.

"How much longer do I need it?"

It had been months. Even falling off the wagon in Vegas wasn't enough to have set her back. It was routine she needed now. The rainforest cure was still doing something for her. Maybe no more than vitamins would to keep her healthy. But I needed her to stay while I studied it.

"You'll continue to take them for the duration of your contract."

She should have heard the tone of my voice.

"Is that safe?"

"Safer than this line of questioning."

"This is my life, Cole. It's not a game."

I slammed the brakes on and brought the car to a juddering stop at the curb. "Do you think I'm playing a game?" My face was inches from hers. "I've had you sign a legally binding contract drawn up by attorneys. You've promised yourself to me for a year and a day. I'm taking care of you. I'm making sure you have no exposure to opioids or other addictive substances. I've made sure you're eating and working out and getting enough sleep. You're living a disciplined life and you. Will. Submit." I held her gaze. "Do you think this is a game?"

She didn't look away. She didn't look down like she should have. She was shaking with anger that had come out of nowhere. I'd awakened it but I didn't know which part of the trip had. Only that she needed it. She needed to be borne up on waves of it because when we got back to Vegas, I was going to break her again.

"Yes."

"You think this is a game?"

"Yes."

She wasn't looking away.

"You think you can match me in this game?"

She gave a nasty laugh, contempt and anger mixed together with too much surety of herself. "I know I can match you in it. I can fucking beat you," she said and I was certain the emphasis on the words "beat you" was intentional.

"Those are dangerous words." My voice was soft. It was a game. It was a game I loved. But we were rapidly crossing from game to reality and I was becoming angry. She needed to step down. Step back.

And she wasn't doing it.

"What are you going to do about it?"

Take a calculated chance. "Open the door. Get out of the car. Find your own way. If you can find a way to reach me I'll send everything of yours to you."

She froze. Bluff called. Her eyes locked on mine, rigid and unmoving. She wasn't going to flinch.

Not yet.

"No."

"No?" I laughed. "No, you're not going to get out of the car when I tell you to? What, it's like I fired you from a job and you decide not to go? No, I can't tell you what to do after you've signed away your right to self determination? No?"

The shaking was getting worse. "It's a fucking game, Cole." She all but spat it at me.

---