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I'd bring them down.
I'd bring them down and I'd find out where St. Martin stood on this.
And I'd decide whether or not to bring him down, too.
41
Annie
Claude wasn't finished.
I was. Exhausted, sickened, aching. Even though I knew Chloe had been through this over and over, partly by choice, I wanted to get to her.
As if she was the one who needed help, or comfort.
Claude caught me by the arm and swung me around to face him. I took a swing at him and he ducked and laughed, turned me away from him again and shoved me hard against a bench. Standing behind me, he wrapped something around my waist. He was pressed tight into me, his heat a sick feeling, and when I felt his hand between my legs, I roared at him, convinced of what he was doing.
He wasn't. And the rules Cole left me with meant it wouldn't be sexual assault. It would be – in the minds of these men – allowed.
I spat and twisted and fought, but my muscles felt like jelly. I was only just beginning to realize my brain felt like jelly, too. For one horrible second I wondered if the water I'd had at dinner had been spiked, before deciding I was just that tired. Not just physically tired.
Mentally. Emotionally. Maybe even my soul was tired.
Claude clicked the thing into place behind me. I twisted, trying to see down my own back before it occurred to me to just look down, since whatever it was, it surrounded me.
A strap-on.
I pulled on it, repulsed and somehow as afraid as if he'd put something on me that might explode. Or take root.
"What are you doing?" My voice was a ragged scream that mingled with Chloe's frightening, lost laugh.
Claude leaned into me, pressing me into the bench he'd pushed me up against. His breath was hot in my ear. "Fuck her."
No. Everything in me recoiled. I bucked against him, inadvertently touching him. He was hard as a rock under the staid dress slacks he wore. I gagged, and tried to turn.
"She's had worse," he said. "Do it, or I'll do worse. To both of you."
"I'm going to k – "
"Annie." Chloe's voice. She felt the rage simmering through me, from wherever she was. There was a note of warning in her singsong voice. Impossible. She was so high. Unreachable. I couldn't do this.
She'd interrupted what I wanted to threaten him with. I had to believe not because she wanted him saved. But because she wanted me saved.
Does Cole know? The thought drummed through my mind. With all his rage, all the fury since France and Kie and Vincent, he'd never done anything remotely like this, and Claude had no kidnapping and killing of a friend and rival to drive him on.
This was what Claude was.
But was it what Cole was?
Do it. Do it and get out. Do it and get her out. Because the situation had spiraled out of control. Sometimes that happened undercover and I had to ride it out as a participant, as someone as real in my persona as everyone else going through whatever was happening.
That's all this was. Undercover. Horrible. Beastly assignment.
Claude grabbed a handful of my curls, dragging my head back. "I told you to fuck her."
The dildo was huge. Or at least it looked that way when I looked down at it. I shuddered, shook my head against him.
"Let go and I'll – "
