Page 7 of Wrecked

I turn my head to the side and look at the cinder block walls. He’s right. He doesn’t deserve a whisper. Nico is known trash. A few years older than me, he’s done nothing but corrupt the youth of Cedar Ridge and any town within sixty miles of here. I’d rather sit in silence than give him the time of day.

He laughs, a low grunt from inside his throat, finding my defiance amusing. He can laugh as much as he wants. We’re chained to opposite walls, and there are officers outside this room. The worst he can do to me is make me listen to his despicable voice.

“I know you. You work at The Bucking Bronco. Yeah, that’s right. The hellcat who dances on the bar.” He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, causing the chain to clang on the bench.

Someone must have switched his cuffs to the front, like they did mine. That, or he slid his legs through his arms. Wouldn’t be surprised, coming from a career criminal.

I slide my eyes back to the wall, but he doesn’t seem to care for my indifference.

“You think you’re too good to talk to me, but the truth is, we’re one in the same. We both sell a good time. You, with your body and liquor. Me, with…some other things.”

My head snaps to him. “We are nothing alike.”

Nico smiles, happy to get a rise out of me. I clench my jaw, annoyed with myself for giving him what he was craving—attention. I look out the door in search of Officer Harper. He’s stepped away from his desk. I don’t see anyone else nearby.

“It’s just you and me, baby. Looks like we have all night to get to know each other. So, let’s get acquainted.” Nico slides over on the bench.

I twist my brows in, confused at how he’s able to move away from the wall. He slides a touch closer, and I follow the metal around his wrist to make sure he’s still tethered to the metal hook and rod on the wall.

The room isn’t very big, maybe about ten feet. I shift to the side, but my only option is the wall adjacent to the door. If I move any further, I’ll literally be backed into a corner.

Nico rises, looking down at me like I’m his last meal before the chair. “I want to see you dance.”

He’s moving closer, the chain sliding across the bar as he walks. He might be tethered to the rod, but it extends down the length of the room. There are no breaks, which means he’ll be able to get all the way to my side.

I rise and step backward, hoping his chain will catch and pull him back.

It doesn’t.

Nico takes steps closer. I move back. He wants me to dance. Well, he has me dancing—moving in measured steps to save my life.

“Stay away from me!” I shout, hoping one of the officers will hear.

Nico’s eyes are dark, hard, and coldly staring at me. I know what those eyes are saying. He’s not worried about getting caught. He’s already in a mess of trouble. He’s just looking for a little reward for his arrest.

“Come on, sweet thing. Show me what you do for everyone else. Dressed in an outfit like that”—he licks his lips, the saliva pooling at the side of his mouth—“you know you like the attention. Let me have a taste.”

His body pushes up against mine, forcing my back to slam into the cold cinder block. My head hits the wall with a thud, making my skull vibrate. With cuffed hands, he slides his fingers up to my cheek. His stale breath stinks of menthol cigarettes and marijuana. I turn to the side and try to scream, but his hand covers my mouth, blocking the sound.

I have a lot of slack on my chain, but there is no way I can get around him. Not this way. Not with him playing the dominant, overpowering me. I thrust my body against Nico’s, but he shoves me back. His chest weighs down on mine, hips pinning my lower body, his hands now lower on my waist.

“You’re feisty, baby girl. Just how I like it. Show me how wild you can be.”

I slam my fists against him. His weight is too forceful. I attempt to scream again, but he shoves his shoulder into my neck, making it hard for me to breathe. Rough hands are trying to roam over my shorts, pressing in to feel the skin beneath. I buck my hips, doing whatever I can to get him off of me. The harder I fight, the stronger he becomes.

Pushing, thrusting, fighting with all my might.

Thrashing, twisting, I need to make an escape. I can tell he’s done this before, and he knows how to handle a victim.

His thumb is roving inside the band of my shorts, and I think I might vomit, the taste of bile salivating in my mouth.

With his concentration on getting the button of my shorts undone, he relaxes his hips. I use the opportunity to lift my knee. I need to kick him, hurt him. I’m about to knee him straight in the balls when two large hands grab hold of Nico’s shoulders and pull him back.

“Get the fuck off of her.” Adam’s loud, harsh growl fills the room.

He shoves Nico against the opposite wall, his forearm in Nico’s throat. Adam’s face burns crimson, and his eyes are filled with rage. His teeth are clenched, the square jaw about to burst through the skin.

“She is not one of your whores.” With each word, he shoves his arm further into Nico’s neck.