Page 74 of Forbidden Eyes

Something smacks across my head, making what was already fucking blurred, spin uncontrollably. It’s enough to cause their grip to tighten on me as I almost fall, and I’m dragged to wherever we’re heading. They mutter to each other about something. I can’t hear it because of the goddamned bag on my head, but I do hear the crank of a steel door closing somewhere behind us.

The temperature cools instantly as I’m pulled along with them, giving me a slight reprieve from the sweat and heat building on my body. Dusty air filters through the cloth into my senses, and I try to concentrate on the sound of Fia’s feet being towed quickly and her bitching at her father. They stop after a while, as does her voice.

My head whips around at the disappearance, but the force of the guys holding me just increases to drag me further away.

“Cunts,” I mutter, as my eyes try to regain decent focus.

They are. All of them. Including the man who should be dealing with me rather than letting others do his dirty work for him. Never had Vico down as someone to leave this kinda shit to others. Thought he’d hand me my ass himself and relish the prospect. Whatever respect I had for him damn near disappears with that thought. Add into that the fact that he’s brought Fia along for the ride, just so she can see what her actions have caused, and energy somehow begins to seep back into my bones.

I’m suddenly dumped on a hard chair, arms letting go of me the second it happens. I stare at the black surrounding my vision, shaking slightly, and will my body to calm the fuck down to save what energy I have left for what’s coming. I’m gonna need it with these guys because I’m not standing and taking it unless it comes direct from Vico himself.

Silence lingers for a while and I continue to glare into the bag, waiting. There’s nothing I can do until one of them tries something, and even then, it’s gonna be a hard-fucking task with my hands tied. I grate them behind my back, knowing there’s no way in hell I’m getting them out of the tape, and start closing down all other thoughts to concentrate on sounds and smells to give me any advantage I can find when I need it most.

My thoughts drift back to Quinn teaching me to fight. Nothing was fair about it. He got those guys to hit me like they fucking meant it, telling me that no one fights and doesn’t mean it.

“It fucking hurts, Carter. Get used to it and learn to be quicker, smarter.”

I did. But hands tied?

Yeah, he didn’t teach me defence against that fucker.

I snarl to myself as I hear feet starting to move towards me, and I brace.

The punch to my jaw explodes across my face, knocking me sideways, but I’m damned if I’m going down to the floor from that. My stomach muscles strain to pull me back upright, and I try to work out where they are around me, how many of them. A set of feet scuffles to the left, another one or two sets to the right. And this time I hear the balance change when one begins to take a swing. I duck and swipe my leg out, connecting with his. The sound of his ass hitting the floor makes me smile and tilt my head away from them all, listening for where Vico is. He’s the only one I'll take hitting me.

He’s allowed to. No one else.

“Scared, Vico?” I holler out. Fucker. I’ll wind him up to force his hand. “Get this goddamn hood off me and come try your luck.”

Silence again, probably as the dicks wait for instruction. The blow to my head comes too quickly for me to dodge this time, but still I don’t fall off this goddamned chair. Fuck them. I growl as the pain throbs through my jaw and I right myself, pushing my way forward into hell blindly if that’s what’s necessary. “Get your ass over here and try making me beg,” I shout, spitting bile out at the cloth.

Hands grab me, forcing me backwards. Screw that. I use whatever I’ve got in me to turn in their hold, shoulder barging one out of the goddamn way, and then rear my head to connect with the other. He groans and backs off, giving me room to run at the sound of a third, but something swipes at my legs and takes me off balance before I get a chance to connect. My body slams to the ground, my chest and face taking the fucking impact, and then a shot sounds. I freeze, waiting for the explosion of pain to come. It doesn’t, but the sweet smell of powder filters through the cloth.

I laugh and roll back up until I’m standing, head shaking to clear my vision. That shit’s not going to happen. I’ll be made to take more pain than I’ve taken so far. Shooting would be too fast, and from what I know, Vico’s hands haven’t touched me yet. They’ll want to. They’ll be itching to take a swing, desperate to show me what fucking his precious little daughter gets me. Even if it does mean showing her what an animal he is.

“Not got enough guts to take me on yourself?” I shout again. Asshole. “That’s not the Vico I know.”

I barrel sideways, listening to the breathing of the guys surrounding me, and knock one of the cunts over in the process. The sound of metal clatters over the ground, a gun knocked from his grip probably. And then the sound of hard-soled shoes walking from a distance away makes me turn to look towards them, willing them closer. Finally.

Bring it. Come on.

I crick my neck and wait, stretching my shoulders and hoping whatever I’ve got left in me is enough to get me through his battery. If I’m lucky he’ll leave me half alive with his point made, and if I’m even luckier, my body won’t give up before it’s too late to get through it.

“Carter!” Fia.

The sound of a slap reverberates, and she squeals suddenly. All hell riles up in my body at the sound, sending my blood rushing to every muscle ready to attack. My feet power me towards the sound of her.

“You’re a stupid cunt, Carter,” his voice says quietly.

I snarl through the cloth, desperate to look into his eyes when this happens. I need it. Need to make my own point and have him see I'm not scared.

“He says, having just hit a woman like a fucking coward,” I spit out. That’s one thing that doesn’t happen in my world, no matter my heavy hands when I’m fucking one. “You touch her again I will damn well kill you for it.”

Silence.

And then the bag’s ripped from my head.

The dim light floods my eyes, blurring my vision, but still I search for her. She’s off to the side, maybe sitting in the chair I was in, a guy’s hands on her shoulders holding her in place. I glare at him, wishing I could rip his fucking head off for going anywhere near her, and then look back at her. She’s crying, the side of her face red from impact and tears making her cheeks shimmer in the dull light. So fearful, as if she’s never seen this side of her father. I guess she hasn’t. But this is the man her father is, who I am when needed—violent and corrupt.