Too Late

I stand up and rub a hand down my face. “For two years I still think about that night. About what it felt like being the first person inside of her. The first person to make her come. The first person to make her scream out a name. And every time I look at her, I love her a little bit more knowing that what happened between us will always be sacred. That I’ll get all those firsts and all those lasts. That she would never allow another man to kiss her. To touch her. To slide his dick inside of her and fucking ruin her for me.”

I calmly walk over to Luke and squat in front of him again. “If I find out you took all that from me, Luke, she’ll be worthless to me. Excuse me while I go upstairs to retrieve her. I think the three of us need to have a serious conversation.”

I send two of the fuckers back inside to keep an eye on Luke while I run upstairs to retrieve my Sloan.

SLOAN-40

Sloan

The first thing I did after running upstairs to my bedroom was run to my nightstand for my phone. It wasn’t there. I looked on the floor, the bed, under the bed.

And then I remember Asa running up here right before dinner.

The bastard hid my phone.

As soon as I heard the shouting from downstairs, the scuffling, the crashes…I ran to my closet to hide. Less than ten seconds later, someone pounded on the door. When I heard the words, “FBI, open up!” I was filled with relief.

I crawled out of the closet and swung open the door, but I immediately knew something wasn’t right. The agent shoved me into the bedroom and slammed the door behind me, pointing a gun at me. He ordered me on the bed and hasn’t allowed me to move or speak since he walked in.

It’s been a while now. Too long. I can sometimes make out the sounds of Dalton’s voice. Sometimes Jon or Kevin’s.

But not Asa’s.

And not Luke’s.

My stomach coils at the idea that Asa has anything to do with this. But it wouldn’t be the first time he’s concocted a ridiculously elaborate scheme. It’s becoming his forte.

“Am I under arrest?” I ask the agent.

He remains in front of the door, but doesn’t answer my question.

“If I’m not under arrest, I’d like to go downstairs.”

He shakes his head no.

Fuck this guy.

I stand up and try to walk around him, but he grabs my arm and tosses me back toward the bed. That’s when I know for sure something isn’t right with this whole situation. I jump back up and attempt it again. “Help!” I scream, hoping to get someone else’s attention in the house.

He slaps his hand over my mouth and shoves me against the wall. “I suggest you shut your mouth and sit back down on the bed.”

I stomp on his foot, knowing I’m just making things worse for myself. But I’m tired of not fighting back. His hands meet my shoulders and he shoves me against the wall so hard my head slams against it. I wince and try to pull a hand up to my head, but he grabs my wrists and shoves them at my sides.

“You’re a feisty little thing,” he says, smiling like that’s something that’s supposed to turn him on.

Where the fuck did this guy come from? The same womb as Jon?

“Help!” I scream again.

This time he shakes his head and says, “Don’t know how to keep your mouth shut, do you?” He presses his lips against mine and I fucking hate men. I hate them. I hate them!

My eyes are wide open as I try to keep my lips pressed together against the force of his tongue. I’m looking over the guy’s shoulder, struggling to free myself from him, when the bedroom door swings open.

I’m both horrified and relieved to see that it’s Asa.

What in the hell is going on?

His eyes scan the room and then land on us-on the guy who’s still trying to penetrate my mouth with his tongue. There’s a hand now working its way up my shirt. I realize what a fucked up world I live in when I catch myself praying that Asa comes to my rescue, but also fearing for the moment I’m safe with him.

Asa doesn’t even take two seconds to process what he’s seeing. His eyes turn heated with rage. “I gave you one fucking job, asshole!” he yells, striding toward us. Just when the guy releases me and begins to spin around, Asa lifts his gun and presses it to the top of the guy’s head. “One fucking job!”

Ringing.

I can’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears. The sting of liquid in my eyes—on my face. I cover my ears with my hands and squeeze my eyes shut.

No, that did not just happen.

No, no, no.

I hear the guy fall to the floor and I have to step to the side to get my left foot out from under him. “No, Asa. No, no, no,” I repeat, my hands still over my ears, my eyes still shut.