Convict (Sin City Salvation 2)

His fingers dug deeper into my hip, and he slammed forward, rattling everything on the desk around us. There were no words. Only anguished sounds as he thrust harder, faster, deeper. I caught a glimpse of him as he let go of my hair, and I collapsed back onto the desk. His head tipped back, and his mouth parted as he became a slave to the moment. And then he ruined it by yanking his cock out of me, milking the angry flesh with his fist as the orgasm shot through him. Jets of hot come sprayed across my back and into my hair before it dripped down my sides.

Huck sighed, long and deep, his eyes opening to meet mine. They were completely vacant when he zipped himself back up and stared at me like this meant nothing. He’d intentionally left me unsatisfied, but he wasn’t finished. He had one last parting gift for me as he left me standing there, bent over and on display, still covered in his come like the trash he thought I was.

“Fuck you.”

As I peeled myself up off the desk and gathered the shattered pieces of my pride from the floor, I came to a hard-won conclusion. Ace and I were never going to work. Not as captor and captive, not as friend or foe. We were oil and vinegar, and that was the only absolute in this situation.

I thought I was fucked up, but he’d just proven he was the most fucked up of all. He couldn’t care about anyone. Trouble had warned me, and I didn’t want to believe it. This was the smack in the face I needed.

Cleaning away the evidence of his hatred, I put myself back together as best I could, too weary to face him again in this state. It wouldn’t be long until lunchtime. Maybe I could sneak out while he was in the bathroom cleaning up.

Until then, I sat back down and stared blankly at the remaining stack of papers. There were still far too many, and I didn’t feel like organizing anymore, but the alternative was being left alone with my thoughts, which wasn’t any better. So I continued to sort, at least for a few minutes, until I reached the middle of the stack and came to a dead halt.

There, buried in the middle of all the boring bills and records, was a ragged old cutout from a newspaper. It was folded into thirds, and I opened it delicately, careful not to tear the paper.

Inside was the face of a young girl with long, brown hair and pretty dark chocolate eyes. It was an obituary. But the name was the first thing to catch my attention as Kodiak’s words echoed through my mind.

Have you tried Mary-Kate’s Last Dance?

It was no coincidence that this girl’s name was Mary-Kate Welles. According to the obituary, she was only fourteen when she died. My chest constricted as I stared into her eyes, wondering what happened to her. The expression on her face was not that of a happy young girl. It was one of torment and sadness, and I felt that kinship with her deep in my soul.

Did Ace know this was in here? Who was she to him? My mind filled with questions, but there were no answers. I knew because I read the obituary three times over. No details were provided for her death. The small block of text simply existed to alert the world she had lived and died. The caption didn’t wax poetic about her hobbies, or her favorite foods, or how pure her soul was. It was absent of sentimentality, which left me to conclude that nobody had cared enough to include those things.

I didn’t even know her, but my eyes stung with emotion. How easily could that have been me if I had stayed in California? If I had allowed things to continue as they were, would this last evidence of my life be interchangeable with hers? Just a short blurb that I had at some point existed, but now I didn’t. No details save for a grainy pic that nobody would remember or care about.

I became irrationally hungry for more information about this girl, but Huck had taken my phone, and the only internet access I had was in this office. Was it possible that he’d left the computer unlocked?

I glanced at the door and stirred the screen to life with the mouse, noting two options. The master account was for Ace, but a second guest option didn’t require a password.

With jittery fingers, I typed her name into the Google search bar, and within seconds, pages upon pages of information popped up. It surprised me, and then it terrified me. My eyes grew unfocused as I read through the titles of the articles, one after another.