Slow Burn(108)

    Griffin continued to squeeze. He ignored French.

    French pulled a syringe out of her purse.

    “No,” I yelled, jumping out of the duct and tackling her.

    She shrieked, but she didn’t lose her grip on the syringe. Instead she plunged it into my neck.

    The world went blurry, swirly, and then dark.





Chapter Nineteen

    I awoke lying on cold stone. I opened my eyes to see that above me were the same fluorescent lights I’d seen elsewhere in Op Wraith. But now I was in a completely empty white room. Griffin was in the corner, his arms around his knees. That woman—Jolene French—was kneeling next to him, talking to him.

    At first, all I could hear was the cadence of her voice, smooth and soft, musical. I couldn’t make out what she was saying. But as I grew more awake, I could understand.

    “I must say it was exciting to see you kill Burt. There you were pressed against him, his face on the floor. That must have been exciting for you too.”

    What was she saying to him?

    “I knew it, Griffin. I knew you thought about Burt that way. What was it like, being behind him, your hands tight around his neck, squeezing him? Was it everything you hoped for?”

    Griffin shied away from her.

    She reached out and touched his face, running perfectly manicured red nails over his cheek. “Oh, Griffin. How many times did I tell you not to repress those feelings? How many times did I tell you that what happened to you in jail was a release for you?”

    He was shaking.

    “What did they make you say, again? Didn’t they make you tell them how much you loved cock? Did you want Burt’s cock?”

    He shut his eyes.

    “Why don’t you say it for me, Griffin? Tell me how much you like to suck big, hard—”

    “Stop it,” I said, pushing myself to my feet.

    She turned to face me. “Oh. Look at you, awake.”

    My legs were unsteady, possibly because of whatever she’d injected me with. I staggered across the room. “Get away from him.”

    She laughed. It sounded like sleigh bells at Christmas. “Oh. You’re really adorable, aren’t you? You have a crush on him, don’t you?”

    I stopped next to Griffin and knelt down next to him. He wouldn’t look at me. He was holding his knees and shuddering. I glared at French. “You bitch.”

    “Must be frustrating, being with a man who catches for the other team.” She smiled at him. “You do like catching best, don’t you, Griffin?”

    Griffin flinched as if he’d been slapped.

    I seized his hand. “Nothing about him is frustrating.” I turned to him. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just messing with your head. She doesn’t know anything about you. She only wants to control you.”

    French lifted her eyebrows a little bit. “How could it not be frustrating? He’s incapable of anything remotely sexual.”

    I shook my head. “No. He’s quite capable. Trust me.”

    She looked surprised. “Impressive.” She drew herself up to her full height. “I hadn’t thought anyone could penetrate the mess I’d made of his brain.”

    I stood up too. “You were wrong.”

    “Capable of everything?” she said.

    “Everything,” I said.

    “Is that true, Griffin?” she smiled down on him. “You manage to keep your little soldier standing tall with her mouth on you?”

    “Shut up,” I said.

    “That’s what I thought,” she said. She shrugged at me. “He’s still mine.”

    There was a creaking noise. I turned to see a large metal door on the far wall. It was slowly opening.

    “French,” yelled a voice from outside. I recognized it. “You let my daughter out of there!” It was my father.

    French laughed her pretty, tinkling laugh again. “Oh, Thorn. You’re so melodramatic. This is simply a secure location. I’m not going to gas them.” She strode across the room to the door. “At least I don’t think so.”

    My father struggled inside. He was sweating. “You let her go, Jolene. I won’t let you—”