Page 128 of Pawn's in the Bishop's Game (Checkmate 1)

Whatever it is, she’s safe.I work on convincing myself of a lie before I go crazy.Whatever it is, he doesn’t truly know my secrets.Deep breaths. Calm your shit. She texted three minutes ago. She’s safe.Whatever it is, I refuse to let him fuck with my head.

Slicing open the sealed envelope, I finger a small stack of photos. Six-by-four color images slide into my lap, and Flynn’s amused grin flashes in my peripherals.

What has he got?Fuck, what has he got?

“Look at them. I got these just for you.” He rubs his hands together to create friction. “The suspense iskillingme.”

My fist tingles with the need to break his fucking face. I haven’t even looked yet, but I want to kill him.

I slide the first image over and swallow down the protein shake I chugged before leaving the apartment. I can’t blow here. I can’t give him what he wants.

But he has pictures of her.

Ass up, delicate shoulder blades popping, blonde hair fisted in a man’s tattooed hand, cock in her pussy…

Worst of all; her face smattered with tears of sadness.

It’s Jess. Getting fucked. And she doesn’t want it.

Rage burns in my blood, tempting me to turn and snap his neck. “How did you get this?”Don’t kill him yet. Don’t snap yet. Get answers first.

Giddy, he nods toward my hand. “There’s more. Keep going.”

I shouldn’t do it. I’m only playing into his hand by looking, but I flip to the next image and find her again, tied up in Abel’s club. Red welts mark her milky flesh, her eyes are covered with a silky mask. Her head lolls to the side so her long blonde hair dangles over her bare chest.

“That one’s not new,” Flynn explains like we’re discussing third grade math. “Look at the date in the bottom corner. That was last month. I didn’t take that image. I bought it.”

Breathing through my teeth, heart hammering, I turn to him. “Youboughtit?”

“Uh-huh. There’s a whole websitefilledwith these images. Your girl’s been inside Infernos more than you know.”

“No.”

He snorts. “Yes. I didn’t manipulate that photo, but I don’t even care if you believe me. I still have pictures of your girl’s pussy.”

“I’ll kill you.” I pull the gun from my waistband and face him with the Glock in one hand and naked pictures of the most important person in my world in the other. “I’ll peel your fuckin’ skin back and make you eat it.”

He scoffs. “You’re the twelfth person thisweekto say that. Eventually a man becomes desensitized. But keep going, there are more. This is one of those gifts where I get pleasure in watching you open it.”

I’ll kill him. I swear to God; his life will end at the tip of my blade.

I sit back and flip through the images – because I’m hopeless when it comes to her – I find more of her in my club. More welts on her delicate body. More pictures of her pussy. Her ass. Her tits squeezed with rough hands.

But not one single picture is of her crying with pleasure. None of them are the face I’ve known this week. None are the cries of ecstasy I’ve seen.

Every single time, it’s pain. She doesn’t want it.

“These aren’t recent photos.” The welts aren’t on her body. I saw her creamy flesh beneath my hands just this morning. I turn to him. “These aren’t recent.”

“No, last month. But it burns, doesn’t it? It burns to see your girl in our club. Tied up. Beaten.”

“Are you the man in these pictures?”

“Nope. That’sherman. They weren’t a random pairing. They arrived together. They left together.”

So he’s an ex. An ex I’ll kill, but an ex nonetheless.“They’re old photos. This has nothing to do with me.” It haseverythingto do with me, but I won’t admit that to this asshole.

“Keep flipping, amigo. There are more.”

---