Page 241 of Deep Cover

Mark looked disconcerted. "No, I mean right now. I want to take a look at you."

What he was saying suddenly came through to me. He meant examination. Mark my fucking fiancé wanted to fucking get me on a damned table and play doctor.

The horror hit me so hard I gagged and my reaction was instant and unconsidered: I slammed him with both hands to the solar plexus and sent him flying backward, careening into the wall behind him before he hit it and slid down it.

"Annie!"

But I was already running.

The problem with proudly breaking into the billionaire's compound is the fact that it's now open.

The hallway we were in makes a sharp turn and there was blue sky ahead of me right out one of the main compound doors. I sprinted, pretty sure I could make it before Mark did and there hadn't been any men with guns with him because he was convinced he had me well in hand.

Plus, he wasn't going to have me shot.

But the problem with trying to escape from the now wide-open compound belonging to the billionaire is that it dropped me into southern Nevada desert. The tallest foliage around me was no more than waist height.

Mark might not be able to move, but his mercs could. They caught me easily, full of "Whoa, there, girl, everyone's trying to help!" and other jolly little lady things that made me want to scratch their eyes out and demand if they knew what I did for a living.

Of course they did. Whoa, there, girl was meant to be infuriating.

Next thing I knew I was in the center seat of another big SUV. Damned things should be banned. They were a kidnapper’s dream and the feds really did use them for their work. A world without black SUVs would be a kinder, healthier place.

My mind was doing its old ADHD stuff, throwing up random ideas and insisting we had to get out of there right then.

There wasn't any danger. It wasn't a full out panic attack but it was something along those lines. When my body and mind got together and said Go, now.

Last time had been in Paris and that had just happened.

Now I didn't have Cole with me. Again. I was realizing how grounded he made me feel. Fight as I always would against the morning routines and the invasive humiliations and the spankings, the canings, the corner time or being tied-up, against being told not to look right at him or to call him sir – all that was trappings.

I wanted to be here.

Because, I told myself firmly, despite the fact that Mark was talking - He'd stop. He'd figure out I wasn't listening. I wanted to be here because Cole was helping me.

The last few years of undercover. The only few years. It had only been something like two years or a little more, I couldn't figure it out exactly with Mark yapping at me, but two years, and I'd been strong and indomitable. I'd gone into terrifying situations willingly.

I'd brought down bad men.

I'd slept with bad men. Sometimes I'd liked it.

But I'd been off balance the whole time. That was news from my subconscious. And now with Cole, I was getting a handle on the fact that there seemed to be two Annies inside me, one of whom wasn't quite the warrior the other was.

One of them didn't crave safety and comfort. But she craved someone to fight against. Someone with a vested interest in making her fight.

Someone who saw her as strong in all her incarnations.

"You're not listening to me," Mark said.

"You're not saying anything," I said and watched his face purple. Before he could speak again, I said, "You believe that Cole St. Martin is some kind of cult, apparently by himself, which I'm not really sure is possible. You think that I've been kept here against my will."

Mark's fists were clenched on his knees. He hunched forward in the center seat of the SUV, too close to me and looking a little like a gargoyle. "I know it's against your will."

I breathed out. "Yes. It is. But so would rehab be. That's why they ask you to voluntarily commit yourself. Once you give your permission to be held for X amount of time, you're free to rail against them holding you and they're free to keep you there." I spread my hands reasonably but he looked anything but reasonable.

---