Ramsey Security (Ramsey Security #1-3)(24)

"A flaw on my flawless Rose," he often said, needing me cleansed as if enough punishment might remove the blemish from my skin.

Studying the scar, I remember cutting myself as a kid while playing with Shelley. The wound was so minor, only scarring after I failed to clean it properly. I'd been too busy playing to care about hygiene. A decade later, I desperately wished I'd taken the time to wash it off and apply Neosporin.

Of course, if Locke hadn't punished me for the scar, he'd find another reason I needed cleansing. Deep inside, he hated the real Rose and all those fake ones who came afterward.

"Tell me about Locke," Troy asks me after ordering our lunch.

"Why?" I ask, my voice betraying my panic. "Never mind. My answer is no."

"The police report was vague about what you remembered specifically about him. I know his basic looks like pale, thin, and thinning blond hair. I assume he has a small dick too. That's great info, but I need to know more."

"I don't know more. He fried my brain with all his punishments."

"I know your memories are all jumbled up, but some details that feel like nothing might give me what I need to find and kill this f*cker."

"No."

"You're safe here with me. He's the one with a short life expectancy. You can help me put that bullet in his face."

"No," I say weakly and sigh. "Fine. What exactly do you want to know?"

"Tell me where he kept you. Did you move around a lot or remain in one place?"

Leaning my head back on the couch, I close my eyes and let myself return to a place I so desperately want to forget.

"Most of my time was at his house. It was surrounded by walls and woods."

"Describe the woods. How tall were the trees? Did the trees lose their leaves in the colder weather?"

"It rained all the time. Even when it didn't rain, the air felt moist. The trees were always green. The garden was lush every time I was allowed outside."

"What style was the house? Was it one story or two?"

"Two. It was a modern style house. Nothing on the walls. No rugs on the ground. The staff had to remove their shoes before leaving the front hall. Locke didn't want dirt and noise in his home."

"How many people worked for him in the house?"

I let myself dig further into the darkness. "Mister Pain and Mister Punishment lived at the house. They were always around. Mistress Agony lived there too, and she was in charge of me. She also organized Locke's schedule. There was a maid who cooked my meals and told Locke when I didn't eat what I was given. As evil and creepy as Locke is, his employees worship him. I think he saved them from bad lives, and they view him as a sort of sick messiah. I don't know really, though. They didn't talk to me. They just bossed me around."

"Why were you in California when you escaped? Did you travel far to get there?"

"He was in Los Angeles for business, I think. I wasn't told. Mistress Agony gave me a spiked drink. I woke up in a different house. I didn't know I was in LA until I ran."

"Could you describe the house you were in?"

"Not really. It was big and sterile."

"Does Locke have pets?"

I open my eyes and frown. "He's a clean freak who doesn't allow anyone to wear cologne or perfume and makes everyone walk around in socks so they won't make noise. Do you really think he'd have a pet?"

Troy smirks. "You're very sexy when you get angry. Remember that when you want to get my engine revving in the future."

I narrow my eyes at him, but my hateful expression only makes him smile wider.

"Locke is hiding away in his hole, but we'll find and kill him. It's only a matter of time. I know the team is working leads, and I trust they want him dead. Despite that, I still want to find something to speed up the process."

Saying nothing, I close my eyes and instantly see Locke's face as clearly as if he was standing in front of me. I open my eyes. The real view is beautiful with Troy studying me. His eyes lack the smugness of a man with power over me. His blue eyes are soft yet hint at a hunger I can't feed.

"It's been a long day for you," he nearly whispers. "You deserve a reward."

"A bag of Hershey Kisses?"

Troy smiles. "Sure, but something even more special. I'm going to let you squeeze my guns."

Troy shows me his muscled biceps, and I realize he's serious about me squeezing them. Laughing despite my bad mood, I shake my head when he nudges my foot.

"You know you want to."

"I really don't."

Troy leans forward until his lips are only inches from mine. I stare into his eyes and think about kissing him. The gesture seems so easily. Just lean forward, press my lips against his, and let him do the rest. Except I feel Locke on my skin, and his voice echoes in my head.

"Don't let that bastard keep you from enjoying all these muscles," Troy whispers.

Smiling slightly, I lift my hand. "Fine. Let me get a feel."

Troy flexes his bicep for me, and I run my fingers over the hard flesh. The heat radiating from his tanned skin surprises me.

"How long should I fondle you?" I whisper, avoiding his gaze.

"You've had a stressful day, so take your time."