Page 76 of No First Kisses

I’ve got time.

Breathing through it, I’m not even surprised when Ortega doesn’t notice my discomfort.

“I just gave her the heroin, hoping it would calm her down, keep her chill, you know?” He stares at me with wide eyes, like I’ll actually understand.

I shake my head. “No.” I tell him the truth. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to have sex with someone who’s not into it. Who’s knocked out from drugs.”

“I gave her a small dose.” He goes on like I haven’t interrupted, pacing around the front of the camp like he isn’t on the run after kidnapping me. “She shouldn’t have even felt it. But she put up a good game. A party girl who didn’t know how to party.”

“Is that when you took her home?” I keep my voice low, neutral, almost friendly even.

It isn’t my finest moment, I know that. But the baby is going to be coming soon. And I need to get away from the crazy man. If I go into labor, he’ll kill me just to kill me. I’m not stupid enough to think he’ll help me.

“Yeah.” Ortega nods, looking at me with shining eyes. Like I’ve just given him the whole world.

How high is he, and what the hell is he even on? I’m not a very good actor, and it is even worse when I’m in pain or afraid.

We stand in silence, until my body starts to ache, and the pain in my lower back returns with a vengeance. But he doesn’t force me inside. He doesn’t shoot me. He doesn’t scream. So I’m not moving. I’m not going to push it.

Minutes pass, and I try to breathe through the labor that is starting to take its toll. Either that, or the pain from being hit with a gun repeatedly is finally breaking through the shock of the attack. Either way, I’m not questioning why Ortega isn’t forcing things.

My options are limited.

So I lie my ass off, and I hope beyond hope that he won’t understand exactly what is happening with me. Because that is my only chance to get away from him.

To save myself.

“Logan snuck into my house and wouldn’t take no for an answer,” I tell him. “That’s why I left him.” I run a hand down my tightening stomach, grimacing when I realize that this contraction is more intense than the first one.

My knees are shaking by the time it is over.

“He forced you?” Ortega steps closer, and I hold up a trembling hand, needing him to stay away from me.

But Ortega misunderstands what is happening. Either that or he just doesn’t care, which seems more likely. He puts the gun sloppily into the waistband of his jeans and leans back against a porch post.

“Did you like being forced? I bet you did. I mean, he saddled you with a brat. And you went back to his house.” The venom returns to his voice, and for a second I think maybe I’ve underestimated his need to be accepted.

The look in his eyes is the same, which gives him away. He wants to poke me with a stick. To see if I’ll defend Logan. To see if I’ll own up to it.

I’m sorry, Lo. I made a promise. Whatever I have to do.

“Why do you think I had two of the men from my father’s club with me to get my stuff?” I plant the seed of doubt into his mind. “I got away from him.”

Ortega leaves the post and the porch completely, stepping forward until he is almost nose to nose with me.

“Liar.”

His breath is just as rank as the rest of him, and I have to fight the bile that threatens to come out again.

It doesn’t help that he hasn’t even bothered to clean off my puke from earlier and we’ve been trapped together in the same car for as long as we have.

His beady eyes, the pupils taking over the entire irises because of how high he is, devour every detail of my face, trying to find proof that I am lying to him.

I absolutely am, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He is close enough for me to reach out and touch him if I want to.

I don’t.

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