He jumped in the driver’s seat and started the car, flooring it out of the parking lot. I rolled around on the leather seat and worked to pull myself up to look out the window, praying that I’d see Kane’s car and somehow make him know Mason was taking me away somewhere. No streetlights lit up the road from the bar, so hopefully it would be easy to see a car coming at us, but Mason was driving so fast I was afraid I’d miss him.
Suddenly, I saw a pair of lights coming at us and began to flail my arms in the hope that whoever was driving would see me and come after us. As the car got closer, I recognized it as Kane’s and banged on the window, knowing that he couldn’t hear me but desperate to have any chance to get his attention.
Driving even faster than Mason, Kane passed us without ever looking at the car. Devastated, I slumped against the seat and screamed his name. All it did was anger Mason, and as he raced down the road, he reached his arm around to punch me across the face. Everything blurred and then it went dark as I fell down onto the floor.
I opened my eyes and the pain in my cheek came raging back, making me wince in agony. My mouth hurt, I guessed from when he tore the duct tape off, but my hands were still bound together. Bright lights shined above me, and I couldn’t see anything past them. I had no idea where I was or even if there were any people around me.
Mason’s voice next to my head told me at least he was there, and I turned to look at him. “Where am I?”
“Where I want you. I told you not to talk, Abigail. You should have listened. You ask too many questions.”
Just like every other man who’d hit me, Mason had his excuses ready. I hung my head and closed my eyes as the memory of Kane passing us on the road and never seeing me flooded back into my mind.
Whatever was about to happen to me, he wouldn’t be able to protect me.
Tears began to roll down my swollen cheeks. I’d done this to myself, as usual. God, I was so stupid! Like with every man who ever beat me, I thought everything would work out and I could handle things and Mason would let me work at The Greyhound in exchange for Kane’s freedom.
I had to wonder if I didn’t deserve the pain for being so naïve.
“I want you to feel what my brother felt because of you, a common whore. You think you should be able to look like you do and dance for men and they shouldn’t be able to touch you without getting a beating from your boyfriend there? What makes you so special?”
“Kane was only trying to protect me,” I said quietly, sure he’d knock my teeth down my throat if I said much more.
“That boyfriend of yours should have remembered what he was. Ex-cons don’t get to protect their sluts.”
I looked away from Mason’s angry gaze so I didn’t defend myself. I wasn’t a whore or a slut. I never sold my body for any money or gift. But he grabbed my face and jerked it back to make me look at him, and I saw the disgust in his eyes.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
“You make me sick. That club you work at makes me sick. Women should be chaste and innocent. You look like you’re innocent, but it’s all an act. Beneath the big blue eyes and blond hair is a cheap whore. You’re the worst kind of female. You make men think they’re getting one thing, but it’s all a façade.”
I knew I shouldn’t, but I pressed him for more details, hoping that if I kept him talking he might not do whatever he planned to do to me. “But you’re a member of Club X. If you hate us so much, why did you join?”
“You ask too many fucking questions, Abigail.”
He glowered down at me and cocked his arm back to hit me. Squeezing my eyes tight, I braced for the pain of his thick knuckles smashing into my face but nothing happened. I waited for what seemed like forever, listening to him breathe just above me, but he didn’t move. Finally, I slowly opened my eyes to see him staring at me like he was studying something about my face.
“You remind me of someone, Abigail. Do you want to know who that someone is?”
His voice sounded distant, frightening me more than his fist ever could. Nodding, I whispered, “Yes?”
Mason smoothed the hair from my face and ran the tip of his forefinger from my temple to my chin. His eyes had a crazy look in them. “You remind me of my wife.”
As the words came out of his mouth, I wondered why he’d want to beat me if I reminded him of someone he loved, but then he continued and I began to understand why I was there.
“My wife was beautiful, like you Abigail, and innocent. So pure that I could look into her eyes and know I was the luckiest man in the world. I bet Kane thinks that when he looks into those big blue eyes of yours, doesn’t he? The eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul. At least that’s what they say. Did you know that?”
“Yes.”
“But that’s not true. The eyes aren’t the windows to the soul. They lie,” he hissed. “My wife’s eyes lied. She wasn’t pure and innocent like she made me believe. She was tainted and corrupted. Like you are. I see in your eyes the foulness in your soul. You’re foul, Abigail. It’s clear as day right there in those eyes of yours.”
As he spoke, his face twisted in a horrifying expression full of hatred and disgust. I moved my head to look away, but he forced me to turn back toward him.
“Don’t you fucking look away, you whore! Don’t you look away from me like you’re better than I am! I’m a goddamned councilman! People respect me. They believe me. People don’t respect you. You’re garbage. You’re a dancer who tempts men with your body and the promise of innocence long thrown away!”
I couldn’t stop myself from crying at his words. I’d heard every one of them before from every man who’d told me he’d loved me and then used his fists to show me just how much I meant to him. Mason was going to beat me like Kane did to his brother, but he wasn’t going to stop until he’d gotten his vengeance for not only Jethro but whatever his wife had done to hurt him so much.
With his thumb, he wiped my tears away, and I dragged my gaze up to see sadness in his eyes. “Please don’t do this, Mason. Please. I’m begging you. I’ll do whatever you want, but please don’t kill me.”
He began to pace back and forth, looking up to the ceiling as he walked. “I gave my wife her birthday present the night she left me. A beautiful diamond necklace I’d had specially made to show her how much I loved her. I gave it to her and three hours and fifteen minutes later she told me she was leaving me for someone she’d met online. We’d been married for ten years and she left me for some guy with a house in Jacksonville and a boat.”