Retribution (Secrets & Lies #3)(57)
Isis shrugs, smiling thinly. “She has spirit. I can see why Nathan likes her.”
“In any case, to think she has rights,” Peter says, almost softly before he wheels, his eyes burning with rage and insanity even as his face barely moves. His facial muscles are too damaged to show even this intense of emotion. “You stupid bitch! You HAVE NOTHING! You're going to stay right here, and if you think that your hero is going to come save you, you have another thing coming. The only, and I mean only way that you're going to have a chance to even see him again before I have Isis put a bullet in your f*cking head is if you do everything I say!”
I roll my tongue around in my mouth and spit, falling short but still getting the message across. “You're pathetic. I can see why Jackson and Andrea turned on you, and I'm ashamed to be your daughter.”
“That doesn't matter,” Peter hisses, reaching for his belt and unbuckling it. “In fact, what matters is that I'm going to pull my cock out, and you're going to swallow it. You're going to suck your daddy until he blows down your throat, or else Isis is going to shoot you.”
It's enough, and somehow, even though my balance is all screwed up from my ankles being strapped to the chair, I'm on my feet, my fists clenched, my eyes burning in fury. “FUCK YOU! You sick, twisted bastard! You bring that toward my mouth, oh, it'll go in all right. Just enough for me to bite the thing off! You're scum! You do nothing but spread misery and sadness. You... YOU KILLED MY MOTHER! It was because of you and your lies, your taunting and drawing her along that she killed herself, that she stuck that syringe into her vein, you sick bastard! So go ahead, shoot me! Fuck it, shoot me!”
I jerk my foot, reaching for Peter who jumps out of my reach and I almost lose my balance, but before I do the Velcro gives way, and I have my right leg free. I lurch after him, dragging the chair behind me as he scampers like a rat away from me, fear and rage on his face. “Fine, bitch! Isis, kill her!”
“Non,” Isis says quietly, and everything stops, Peter and I both shocked by her reply. “Sit down, Melissa. I will knock you out, but I won’t shoot you.”
“What?” Peter asks, his face turning a dark brick red, I guess that part of his face wasn't hurt by the skin grafts. “What did you say to me?”
“I said no,” Isis repeats, putting herself next to me, pushing down on my shoulder. “I won’t allow your childish temper and sexual perversions to threaten my payday.”
“You arrogant bitch,” Peter says, stepping forward. Isis raises her pistol and he freezes, raising his hands. “We had an agreement. You work for me!”
“No. You hired me to kill your family and those other targets. You didn’t hire me to be your bodyguard or to sit idly by while you rape your own daughter. And your behavior is threatening the contract.”
Peter steps back and grins slyly. “What makes you think I'll pay you after this?”
Isis lowers her pistol slightly and fires, the round punching a hole in the floor directly between his feet. Peter looks down, and it's with a little bit of satisfaction that I see the front of his jeans go dark as he pisses himself. “You know what will happen if you welsh on me. I kill them, and then I kill you. If you think I’m lying, then I dare you to test me.”
“I... I won't forget this,” Peter says, backing up and fleeing the room. “Psycho bitch!”
He stomps down the hallway, slamming another door behind him somewhere in the house, and I give Isis a grateful look. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Isis says, her hand still on my shoulder. “Now sit. I wasn't joking about that either. I will knock you out again if you don’t.”
I sit down, and Isis drags the whole chair to the middle of the room. “Still, you didn't shoot me,” I say as she goes to the corner and gets a package of rope. “There is that.”
She opens the package of rope and lets it slither to the ground, doubling it up so that it is strong enough to resist any sort of fighting I might want to do. “If you stay still, I will undo your hands and use the Velcro straps to attach your hands, it’ll be more comfortable. If you struggle, I'll leave you in the handcuffs which I will bind to the chair tight enough to pull on your shoulders unless you sit forward in way that will pull on your lower back and waist.”
I obey as Isis works quickly, looping the rope around my waist before putting another loop around each knee before tying it somewhere behind me. I can bend forward, but that's about it, and when Isis brings the Velcro straps over, she undoes the handcuffs before attaching my wrists to the arms on the sides. It's tight, but not too tight, and I have about a half inch of movement in my arms, and can wiggle around some, enough that my circulation shouldn't go too numb.
“There,” Isis says, standing up and stepping back. She leaves the room and comes back in a minute with another chair and a book, taking a seat and opening it about a quarter of the way through. “If you need to use the toilet or require some water, tell me.”
I nod, leaning back. It's actually not that uncomfortable a chair, I've had worse in my life. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” Isis asks, putting her finger in her book and closing it. “Sitting here?”
“Not just that. Why did you threaten Peter when I went off on him? No offense, but according Nathan, you’re a psycho bitch. And from what you’ve done, I’d say he’s right.”