She Lies Here

SHE LIES HERE BLAKE LARSEN BOOK 3 JACK SLATER CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Epilogue For All the Latest News Also by Jack Slater 1 “Rise and shine, sweetie.” The dumb bitch’s ordinarily pampered, perfect blond locks were now limp and matted. Once they had been her pride and joy. But no longer. Above her left temple, a clump of hair and blood had clotted into a dense tangle. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit, like a prisoner. He knew there was nothing underneath. He knew because he was the one who had dressed her. Nothing happened. She did not move. She didn’t groan. Not even her breathing changed. In fact, she made no sign to indicate she was even aware he existed at all. They never did. “Wake up!” he yelled, slamming his open palm against side of the shipping container. A dull metallic thud rattled from the impact. She still didn’t move. Was she really unconscious? Or was she just playing with him? Making him distrust the evidence of his own senses, his own superior mind? A surge of pure, violent hatred rose from deep inside him. He leapt several feet across the narrow space until he was standing right over her, close enough to thrust his fingers through her filthy, oily hair. Finally, she reacted. Just a squeak, a whimper of pain. Enough to confirm that she’d been faking after all. “Don’t make me wait again,” he hissed, making a fist with his hand and pulling her hair roots away from her tender scalp. She made a low, guttural groan, her eyes flickering underneath their lids. “What—?” she whimpered, her voice raw from her long rest. “Where am I?” Her eyes opened slowly, still heavy from the effects of the drug he’d dosed her with. He loved this part. There would be several seconds during which she still thought she was dreaming. Where she thought she was under the influence of some horrible nightmare. That she might wake. “That’s the wrong question,” he said proudly, an evil smile turning up the corners of his lips but not meeting his eyes. “You should be asking why you’re here.” Her breath became heavy, uneven, ragged. Her eyelids flickered shut, but he felt her entire body tense underneath him. That was the fear working. Right now, her body was dumping adrenaline into her system. Three. Two… Right on schedule, the woman’s back arched, and she pushed away from the ground violently with her arms and legs as she attempted to propel herself upright. She only made it halfway before the manacles around her wrists and ankles bit deeply into her flesh, the chains they were attached to rattling against the metal eyelet on the floor. “There’s no escape,” he said in a conversational tone, his fist still clenched in her hair. He squeezed tighter to remind her who was in charge and was rewarded a heartbeat later with a stifled gasp of pain. It sent a thrill through his body, starting at his loins and radiating outward. He couldn’t resist doing it again, squeezing hard enough to tear the scab on her scalp and to tease free a fresh trickle of blood. It glistened on her pale, porcelain skin. “Please,” she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Tell me what happ—” He reacted instantly, slamming her head against the wall of the container. As with his palm earlier, a sound reverberated through the cramped space, this time heavy and final. She didn’t make a sound. Her entire body went limp. For a moment he worried that he’d gone too far. That he’d killed her. But not for long. Leaning forward, he turned his right ear to her lips and listened for the sound of breath. It was there—faint but there. She was still alive. For now. “It’s difficult for you to understand, but now you see: There are consequences. There have to be consequences for your actions,” he said, carefully enunciating every word so that she understood. “When I speak, you listen. That is the way of the world. Do you understand?” She was still dazed, he saw. Her eyes were glassy, empty of life. He waited. After all, he wasn’t a monster. He was a… teacher. No, that didn’t sound right. A leader. The roles bore certain similarities, he reasoned, which must have been why the word came to his mind. But there was also a distinct difference. A leader was a teacher, yes. His job was partly to ensure that his flock was prepared to confront all of life’s many dangers. But it was also such much more. Sometimes that required more than a calm word. Sometimes it merely required control. When his captive’s breathing steadied, he bent his lips to her ear. He knew she was paying attention. She was too taut, too tense, too terrified to be doing anything else. “I told you once before,” he whispered. “When I talk, you listen. I don’t like to repeat myself. Do you understand?” She nodded, the movements of her neck weak and jerky. “Speak!” he snapped, furious at her wanton show of disrespect. She knows exactly what she’s doing! Blood rushed in his ears, making it difficult for him to hear. “Yes,” she croaked. “I understand. I’m sorry.” Rage still contorted his features. He felt it gripping his chest, squeezing his heart. He wanted nothing more than to slam her head against the crate again and again and again to make her understand. But slowly, methodically, he pulled himself back from the brink. She had