Great Exploitations(24)

And damn it, what was I going to tell G? The thought of it all made me as tired as I’d just tried to convince Henry I was. Lowering my bed, I curled into my pillow to fall asleep, hoping some of the what-nows would have been magically answered when I awoke.

I’d just closed my eyes when the door opened. I smiled, keeping my eyes closed. “What did you forget?”

“To tell you that the reason I do the things I do is because I care about you.”

My eyes flashed open, my body curling inward to protect itself. I instructed myself to stay calm, to keep my breathing even and my face strong, but I wasn’t sure if I was up to staying calm and strong when Rob Tucker got closer to me with every confident step. He had an overflowing bouquet of flowers in one hand, a large teddy bear in the other—the bandaged one from the file I’d unleashed on him—and a smile like he was congratulating his wife on giving birth to their firstborn.

“You have an unusual way of showing someone you care about them.” My voice sounded almost as scared as I felt. That wouldn’t work. I couldn’t be scared. I wouldn’t let a man like Rob Tucker reduce me to fear and cowering.

“But look at you now, sweetheart,” he said proudly, setting the bouquet on the nightstand before tucking in the bear beside me. “I can already see on your face and hear in your voice that you’re showing me more of the proper respect and reverence I deserve. I didn’t hit you because I wanted to. I hit you because I had to. You needed to understand your role in this, as well as mine.” After arranging a few of the flowers, he looked at me with a wide smile.

He was proud. He was looking at me as if I was his child who’d just taken her first steps. He was pleased with the way our relationship was progressing . . . because laying a woman out so badly she was unconscious in the hospital for two days was the pinnacle of progress.

Rob Tucker had some seriously fucked up views on relationships.

I had two options. I could lash back at him with my words and fists like I was twitching to do—right before pressing the nurse call button and screaming bloody murder. That option was appealing in just about every way possible.

The second option was trickier. Much trickier. I could play along with him in his twisted game. I’d have to play the beaten “girl” he’d pulled the spine right out of, and play pantomime in this sick relationship game. If I played along, I could free Mrs. Tucker and exact a sharper revenge on Rob Tucker. If I played the part of a weak woman, I could come out the other end as the strongest one he’d ever met.

Option one was instant gratification and so appealing. Option two would take time and dedication and couldn’t be executed overnight. Continuing with the Errand would mean working two of the most difficult and intricate Errands of my career. Option two could also mean death. The man grinning at me had made it clear he had no qualms about beating me close to death, and I didn’t doubt he’d finish where he’d left off if he deemed me stepping out of line again.

It was dangerous. It was daunting. It was like playing a game of tug-of-war with death.

It was everything I was cut out for.

“Thank you, Mr. Tucker,” I said softly, sweetly. I matched my smile to my tone. “Thank you for showing me what my role is.”

And thank you for reminding me that my role is to not rest until you have been totally and irreversibly fucked over in every way a man like you can be.

“You’re my girl now.” He grabbed my hand, and I couldn’t help but compare the difference between his and Henry’s touch. They were like night and day. “I’ll take care of you if you take care of me.”

I kept my smirk to myself and glanced at him, keeping my fake smile in place. “I’ll take care of you, Mr. Tucker. Guaranteed.”