Page 62 of Hunt You Down

Regan stood back and shook his head at me. “You’re so fucking pathetic,” he hissed. “You can’t even stand up.”

I fought to make my legs work.

“Are you fucking deaf? I said stand up!”

His hand gripped the collar of my shirt and hauled me to my feet. My legs wobbled, unsteady feet struggling to find purchase. If he were to let go of my collar, I’d have fallen again. Lucky for me, he liked spitting in my face more than he liked seeing me on the floor. Well, in that moment he did, at least. My eyes grew heavy, unconsciousness blurring the edges of my vision

That was when he threw the first blow. My jaw cracked beneath his fist, my neck twinging as my head whipped to the side. Blood and vomit pooled in my mouth, but he didn’t stop. With each hit, he listed every time he’d found me since we walked out of the courthouse.

He never had the intention to surrender.

He knew that I left with André. When we stopped by the river, Regan was there. As we walked back to the hotel, he trailed behind us.

“You just gave yourself right up to him didn’t you, you little slut?” He swung. My nose cracked. “You’ve always been easy, but God, he must be as dumb as he is pretty.”

The airport, and André’s apartment.

Every lunch date, every cup of coffee—he was there. Those random numbers in that text? Coordinates to the hotel where André’s work event was held.

“It was nice getting to watch your little makeover up close and personal.” Regan grabbed my face, grubby fingers digging bruises into my skin as he forced me to look at him. “You have no idea how bad I wanted to tear you out of those designer jeans. It took everything in me to stay in that bathroom stall when you left.”

Regan shoved me against the wall and pressed himself against me. The bulge digging into my thigh churned my stomach. I chose my next words carefully, knowing what would happen, but desperate for a break from the beatings nonetheless.

“T-Tell me about the night in the hotel,” I choked. Blood bubbled out of my mouth, dripping down my chin.

A deep, growling chuckle vibrated up from Regan’s throat. His red roots were growing in where he’d dyed his hair. Months of nothing but drinking had rounded out his gut. At least when he was working, he wouldn’t drink on the job. We didn’t have that luxury now.

“You’d like to know how I pulled that off, wouldn’t you?”

I just had to keep him talking. If he wanted to brag, he’d need me conscious to hear it. I choked out the best fake laugh I could. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure it out,” I lied. “Who was he?”

Regan’s grip loosened on my collar, but I was prepared. My feet hit the floor, and I wobbled on unsteady legs. My head was swimming. I could feel unconsciousness pulling at the corners of my brain, but I fought it. An evil smile split Regan’s lips.

“Funny enough, I bailed him out two years ago for spiking drinks at a college bar. I caught him breaking probation, and I covered it up for him. He owed me, and the high he got from that night was worth the time he’ll serve for it.”

I coughed against a wave of nausea. Regan leaned against the wall across from me, amused at what he’d accomplished.

I spat. “What about that baby?”

The fucker smiled. He was proud of it. “That was just a happy accident.”

“You’re disgusting.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think twice about them.

“You little bitch!”

His fist connected with my jaw and with a sickening crack, I crashed to the floor. I covered my head, but he still hit where it hurt. His steel-toed boot found my kidneys, and I cried out. It hurt so bad I could barely breathe. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. My arms fell away from my face, and he set his sights on my jaw, my nose. With each blow he called me a name, but it wasn’t long before he ran out of words to say. He rested against the wall, hands on his knees and working for each breath. I guess months of eating junk food and drinking around the clock made him lose his figure.

It didn’t matter if he was going to hit me again for simply moving. I rolled onto all fours, vomiting onto the dingy carpet. Blood and bile burned its way through, pooling beneath me.

“You liked that didn’t you?” Regan said, breathless. “I mean, that’s the only explanation I can come up with as to why you keep pushing me. You like what I do to you. You enjoy winding me up. You’ve done this all on purpose.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I muttered, too far gone to even chastise myself for it.

Regan threw his long leg across the narrow space and kicked the breath right out of me. I tried inhaling, but it was in vain. Collapsing onto my side, my lungs burned for oxygen. Regan lunged across the hall and knelt next to me. “Smart talk me again, and I’ll give you something to cry about.”

It wouldn’t have taken much to knock me over, but Regan shoved me anyway, sending me tumbling into the wall behind me. I hit my head, and warm blood trickled down the back of my neck.

“You pathetic, sniveling little bitch,” Regan snapped, walking away, voice raising as he disappeared around the corner. “You always were a whiner. I don’t know why I expected that to change. I think Sugar Daddy was too soft on you. You need to be put in your place every once in a while.”