11
“You’re a lucky bitch. You know that?”
Clarissa didn’t say anything. She just stared at the scar running down Charles’s face.
“The old man thinks you are a valuable asset, or some shit like that. If it were me, I’d kill you. Slowly, though. It wouldn’t happen in one night.” He shifted in his seat. “I’d let hope stay alive in you for a couple days. Let you keep thinking that your boyfriend was gonna show up and be the hero. Rescue you or some shit. Know what I mean?”
Clarissa raised her hand to her forehead and traced an imaginary line down her face. She saw that her mocking started to piss him off. “How’d you get that nasty, disgusting scar?” She already knew the story. Jack had told her a dozen times about the night Charles tried to kill Bear and Jack stepped in to save his friend’s life. She watched with amusement as Charles’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared out in anger.
He stood, took off his jacket, turned slightly and hung it over the chair he had been sitting in. He glared at her while removing the five rings that normally adorned his large fingers. Rings were a point of contention among these guys. Some enjoyed the extra damage a large ring could inflict on their target. But others didn’t enjoy cleaning the blood out of their favorite rings so when given a choice, they never wore them in a fight. Or as in this case, a beating.
“Afraid of getting your pretty jewelry dirty?”
Charles bared his teeth at her as he tilted his neck side to side. She cringed at the slow popping sounds that emanated as he cracked his neck. He shrugged his shoulders. Pop, pop, pop, pop. He looked like a fighter getting ready to go 12 rounds.
He glared at her. “You stupid bitch.”
“You can’t touch me,” she said. “I heard the old man tell you that.”
“No, he said I couldn’t kill you.” Charles smiled. “There was nothing about touching you.” His eyes worked over her body.
She tensed as he approached. The restraints held her tight, and there was little she could do to defend herself. She steadied herself for what was to come.
He stood in front of her, his body massive, built like a brick wall. He took a step back and leaned over her, placing his hands on either side of her head.
“You were admiring my scar earlier,” he said with a smile. “You know how I got this scar?” He raised an eyebrow.
Clarissa said nothing. She didn’t even blink. Just continued to stare him in the eye.
“Your boyfriend gave it to me, the dumb fuck. He was helping us on a job…”
Clarissa interrupted him, “I don’t need a history lesson, asshole. I know all about your beauty mark. So get your stank breath out of my damn face.”
Charles smiled at her and stood up. “You’re feisty.” He licked his lips. “I like that.”
She didn’t respond. She just watched him as he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. He reached down and grabbed her by the jaw.
“You like what you see?”
“Fuck you.” Her arms pulled at the restraints.
“That’s the point,” he said.
He leaned over and ripped her blouse open. Clarissa closed her eyes and listened to the sound of her shirt buttons bouncing around on the floor. A lump formed in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes. Get ahold of yourself. Don’t cry for this asshole. She refused to allow him the pleasure of scaring her.
“Yeah, I like that,” he said glaring down at her while wiping away the tears that formed in her eyes. He placed his massive hands on her shoulders and massaged her upper back and her neck. She fought with everything she had not to cringe at his touch. “Maybe when this is all over, you and me can take a trip to the islands. The Boss has a nice setup down there.”
“Screw you,” she whispered.
“That would be included in the daily activities.”
Clarissa stared at the grey concrete wall. She couldn’t look him in the eye anymore.
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take really good care..” His cell phone interrupted him. “For chrissakes.”
She watched him lumber over to his coat, pulling his pants up so he didn’t trip over them. If only she could free her hand or her leg, she could surprise him when he got back. She might not be built like a boxer, but she knew where to strike a man to take him down. Her father and Jack had given her plenty of lessons in self-defense and she had no problem putting those lessons into action.
“What?” he shouted into his phone. He stood there with the cell phone pressed against his ear while holding his pants up with his other hand. “Ok boss, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Leaving so soon?” Clarissa asked.
He said nothing. He walked back and stopped a few feet in front of her.
“Run to your boss, bitch,” Clarissa said.
Charles smiled at her.
She didn’t know how much antagonizing he could take.
He started to turn towards the door and then stopped. “Fuck you,” he said as he delivered a kick to her chest that sent her and the chair reeling back into the wall. Her head hit the concrete wall, knocking her out. The chair tipped over onto the floor and she lie there with a small pool of blood forming around her head.