Page 215 of Deep Cover

16

Annie

Kie was dead.

Kie was dead and not by my hand.

Kie was dead and not by my hand.

KIE WAS DEAD.

The first I knew of anything I was asleep, dreaming that parts of me were on fire. Dreaming that someone was running the bristles of a hairbrush between my legs. In the dream I wanted to beg Cole to stop, whatever it was he wanted me to do, I'd do it. Want me to eat spinach and kale? Bring it on. Want me to suck off every guard at the compound? Bring them on.

He wouldn't. That wasn't his jam.

And then there was screaming, high pitched but male, a voice shouting no over and over and footsteps running toward the room where I was being held.

I threw myself off the bed in the seconds I had before the door burst open. Dizziness tried to swamp me and I shook my head against it, bit down on my cheek as hard as I could and tasted blood and when that didn't work, I pulled the lightweight pants up hard into my crotch and almost dropped myself back to the bed with the explosive fiery burn.

But I was awake and aware when Vincent burst through the doors.

"She's fucking dead," he roared. "You fucking KILLED HER."

I hadn't. I didn't. I would have but – "I wanted to," I shouted back. "The little bitch! You know what she did to me and I'm never going to be allowed to forget it." I was shaking, with anger and with fear, because Vincent wasn't fully sane anymore. No, not fully. He hadn't been. But now he was gone completely over the edge and I was scared.

"What the fuck happened?" I met his shout with my own, certain he wouldn't stop to hear my words.

"Kie is dead. Kie is dead!" Blond hair everywhere. He'd run his hands through it as he started to scream.

For the first time ever, those black eyes. The ones that were always watching me. Judging me. Sealing my fate.

Now within them, there was hurt. They were hurt and devastated and shocked and afraid.

And more dangerous than ever.

He came toward me. For a couple seconds, he looked unsure, like he didn't know what he intended to do when he caught up to me.

And then he was screaming in my face, reaching for me as I backed away and backed away, thankful for the size of the room, for the distance it afforded me, for the bathroom behind me that I was backing toward.

No. Where I wasn't heading. I wouldn't run from him. Never again.

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