Menace (Scarlet Scars #1)(27)

He looks at me like I’m something and not somebody.

The elevator dings, opening again, and Gabe steps off without acknowledging me, knowing I’ll follow. I keep my head down as I trail him to his office in the back corner, glass walls surrounding it, leaving the space exposed. Transparency, they boast, but it doesn’t make a difference, not when they give them blinds to shut out the world if they choose to. And the moment we’re inside, Gabe closes the vertical blind. Of course.

“Did you talk to them?” I ask.

“Who?”

“Whoever you needed to talk to. You promised you’d talk to them about me again.”

“Oh, yeah… I did.”

“You did?”

“Yep.” He offers a small smile as he pulls me around so my back is to him. His arms wind around me, his hands grasping my breasts over my clothes, roughly kneading them through the thick fabric. “I talked to my Sarge just this morning about you.”

“Really? You did?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning down, forcing my head to the side as his lips find my neck, kissing and licking, nothing gentle about it. He sucks on the skin, sending small bites of pain through me. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

Sickness still brews inside of me, but all I can do is swallow it back and hope it stays down. Gabe’s hands are all over me, groping and tugging fabric, yanking my pants down as he shoves me flat against the thick cherry wood desk that takes up most of the office space, right on top of stacks of case files.

Inhaling deeply, I turn toward the door. He’s wasting no time today. As Gabe unbuckles his pants, I reach down and touch myself, trying to get aroused. Pain, to me, usually means pleasure, but there’s a fine line there, one Gabe falls on the wrong side of.

People walk by, ignoring what’s happening, as Gabe thrusts inside of me, banging against the desk, not bothering to keep the noise down. They all know what’s happening but nobody looks. Nobody cares. Not a single one of them pay a bit of attention as he loudly grunts, getting his rocks off.

I just lay here and take it, not bothering to touch myself anymore. It’s a waste of time. A waste of energy. I’m not going to enjoy it. My body goes limp, my mind wandering as people stroll past, going about their business. Just once, I’d like someone to peek inside, even just a flickering glance, a moment of curiosity that forces their eyes to acknowledge me.

Do you know what it’s like to be invisible? Do you know what it’s like to have the world turn its back on you, to turn a blind eye to your existence, like you never even mattered? Do you know what it’s like to scream until your throat is raw only to realize everyone tuned you out long ago and nobody heard a single word?

Because I do. I know.

It only takes a few minutes for Gabe to finish, slumping over, panting. “You working tonight?”

“I have the night off,” I say.

“That’s a shame,” he says. “I was going to come by. You would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you have?”

“You know I would’ve,” I lie, because no thanks.

He moves away from me, flippantly discarding his used condom in the recycling bin. I stare at it as I pull my pants up.

Is latex recyclable?

I don’t think so.

Shaking it off, I watch Gabe as he zips his pants back up. “So, what’s the plan?”

He plops down in the office chair behind the desk and starts shifting through the files he just f*cked me on top of. “The plan?”

“Yeah, the plan,” I say. “What did they say? What are they going to do about the situation?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

I blink a few times, that word like a weight pressing against my chest, cutting off the air in my lungs. Nothing. “What do you mean nothing? You told me—”

“I told you I’d talk to them,” he says, “and I did.”

“But that’s not right. It’s not fair. It’s not enough!”

He cuts his eyes at me. “I’m doing all I can.”

“But you’ve done nothing! You keep promising me you’ll do something, that you’re working on it, that if I trust you, it’ll all work out, but nothing is happening!”

“These things take time.”

“It’s been nine months, Gabe. Nine f*cking months.”

“What do you expect me to do, Morgan? Huh?”

“Something,” I say. “Anything.”

“I told you—I’m doing all I can. And if you want me to keep doing that, it’s in your best interest to watch how you talk to me, because I can stop. I can turn it over to another detective, maybe even pass it to the squad at headquarters, where they’ll really do nothing, if that’s what you want.”

“What I want is for you to help me, like you promised!”

“You want some help, Morgan?”

“Yes!”

“Then how about I give you some advice,” he says. “You dug yourself a hole, sweetheart, a hole so big it might as well be a grave. And they’re going to bury you in it, first chance they get, unless you get out. But all this you keep doing? All this noise you keep making? You’re just making it all worse. The hole just keeps getting bigger and bigger.”