Go Full Circle

4

4

Living with Brash was a nightmare.

Ophelia would never lower herself to live with her minions. Instead, she leased the apartment directly below her own for her employees. Such proximity meant they could be on hand for anything she needed any minute of the day.

As if just living with the goons wasn’t bad enough, Harlow had to put up with Brash’s i***t friends too. Most of them also worked for Ophelia; they just lived elsewhere. They liked to come by unannounced on a regular basis to disrupt any modicum of peace she managed to carve out.

That night was no different. Brash and his friends were in the living room, playing cards. Well, that was the cover. As far as she could tell, they were spending more time shouting at the sports game on TV and jeering each other than they were at the table she’d set up for them at Brash’s command.

Taking orders from Brash was a kick in the teeth. Ophelia had been clear about the hierarchy and Brash was above her, so she had no choice except to obey. That didn’t prevent Harlow from resenting him. Keeping up with chores around the apartment was fine. It wasn’t like any of the guys were going to bother. If it was cook and clean or sit around playing social with Brash, she’d take chores any day.

She’d just put a new bowl of potato chips on the card table when someone touched her a*s. Touching, she didn’t tolerate that. They could leer at her chest and comment on her a*s. Neither got a reaction out of her. Looking and speaking, she let go. It gave her a sense of power to ignore and irritate them by being impervious.

Hands making contact with her was a different ballgame. For one thing, she knew how fast these situations could escalate. Especially when the men were in a group goading each other on.

Slapping the hand away, she straightened the bowl of chips and then walked away to collect some of the mess strewn around the room. There were peanut shells and empty beer bottles all over the place. It was insane that they were happy to live like pigs in this upscale apartment.

“Ah, look at her playing shy,” one of the guys said. He could be the one who’d touched her, she didn’t know or care. Harlow found it best to just roll her eyes off them, or to ignore them completely. “Thought you said she was a horny b***h, Brash.”

Brash snickered. “Maybe you don’t got the touch. Minute you guys walk out of here, she’ll be all over me.”

He wished. Harlow had noticed the way he leered at her. Almost every time they were together, he made some kind of s****l comment. She had no intention of giving him any kind of satisfaction. If it made him feel like more of a man to boast to his ridiculous buddies that he was having s*x with a woman who despised him, she wasn’t going to waste the energy protesting. Anyone who mattered to her would know in a heartbeat that it was a lie.

Penzance didn’t hang around with Brash by choice. Their only link was their employer. Harlow had seen them being civil, friendly even. But Penzance always made an excuse when it came to socializing with the asshole and Harlow didn’t blame him.

Collecting the trash and dishes, she sighed, signaling, in her own way, that she thought he was pathetic. Without saying a word, she took everything into the kitchen. Separating the trash from what needed to be washed, she didn’t look up when the door opened. Making the assumption that someone was coming in for more beer, she kept her head down.

It would be a cold day in hell before Brash would get his own drink. He’d rather holler at her, especially when his buddies were around. But some of the other guys didn’t mind snooping in the kitchen.

She leaned over the counter, past the knife block, to reach the discarded food wrappers, intending to clean up.

Someone came up behind her. Pushing his hips into her a*s, whoever he was, he liked what he saw. Her lip curled in disgust when he began to grind his proud erection against her.

“What is it you’d do for him… huh?”

Brash’s voice was low, but it wasn’t seductive. At least, if that’s what he was going for, he missed the mark. Someone as evil as him couldn’t conceal their true nature, not even in an intimate moment.

“You’ll never know,” she said.

With her hands on the counter, and her toes barely touching the floor, she wasn’t in a great position to fight.

“I heard you like it rough,” Brash said, still rubbing himself against her. He snaked both hands around, under her arms to grope her breasts. “Danger turns you on.”

She tipped her chin toward her shoulder, but was glad she couldn’t quite see him. “I can tell it gets you hot,” she said. “If you weren’t into danger, you wouldn’t have your hands on me right now.”

He snickered. “You think I’m afraid of him? That fucker is far, far away. He can’t save you now.”

It sort of amused her that everyone assumed she couldn’t take care of herself. She’d completed self-defense classes before moving to the city, and had trained with Costello who taught more than the right way to fight. He taught her to fight dirty as well.

Even without those lessons, it was a mistake to underestimate her sheer will. Despising the man who had the audacity to put his hands on her increased her determination. She would rather die fighting than give in to the man who’d put a blade in her love. Though, part of her should be grateful for that wound. If Brash hadn’t stabbed Ryske, she may never have met her crew. Still, she wasn’t going to express her gratitude in any s****l way.

“I’m not afraid of you, Brash,” she said, ignoring his hands kneading her chest and the line of his d**k on her a*s. It pulsed as he picked up his pace and pushed harder. “But you are afraid of him.”

Harlow wouldn’t go down without a fight and wasn’t going to miss a chance to taunt the man who took such pleasure in taunting her.

He spat out disgust in a burst of laughter. “I don’t f*****g think so.”

“Really?” she asked, pushing her head further around. “If you’re not afraid of him, why wouldn’t you tell him to his face that you’re f*****g me? You’re proud to boast about it in front of your Neanderthal friends. Why don’t you try this s**t in front of him?”

“I took him down once, I’ll do it again,” he said. “That knife went in real sweet last time. I won’t forget to twist it next time.”

“That’s a good tip,” she said. “Thanks for that.”

Grabbing a knife from the block, she thrust back with all her strength. Using the width of her hips to force him back, she twisted to flip around and brought the knife up in an arc, slashing Brash across his cheek.

He screamed out. “You f*****g b***h!”

He touched the blood on his cheekbone. When he saw it, he was quick to respond by smacking her across the face, sending her tumbling to the side. Harlow didn’t go down. Although her face felt like it was ready to explode, she was grateful to be free of the island he’d pinned her against. He was still between her and the door. Retreating around the island, keeping it between them was an option. Speed and agility were on her side, and she didn’t doubt her stamina. The only thing he had on her was strength, and Costello had taught her a few tricks for using that to her advantage.

Her confidence wavered when the kitchen door opened and Animal burst in. Animal was bigger and more insane than Brash. She’d reasoned with him once and had a feeling that was the only pass she’d get from him.

“What the hell?” Animal said, absorbing the scene and registering the thin slice of blood trickling down Brash’s cheek. “She f*****g did that?”

Animal didn’t ask why or even hesitate, he began to rush toward her. She turned the knife, praying that she’d have the strength to use it on him before he used it on her.

“Stop,” Brash said. His order worked on Animal, which shocked her. Altruism was what motivated the maniac. That became obvious when he turned his sneer on her. “You’re gonna be mine, little girl.”

“Never,” she spat.

He laughed again. Oh, how she’d come to despise that sound. “You don’t even get it. You think Ophelia wants you running her errands and pressing her clothes forever? She doesn’t give a damn about you. This is all about him.”

Harlow wished her adrenaline would subside enough to let her laugh in his face. The i***t was insane if he thought she didn’t know that. Though, it was her mission to gather intelligence, so it made more sense to act surprised. Questioning him could lead to more information.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked.

“She wants to break him. Soon as she’s got him to heel, you’re useless…” He smiled and touched the blood on his cheek while sauntering past Animal who was still ready to pounce. “And when you’re useless to her, you’re mine… You’ll be mine for as long as I want, in any way I want…”

He smudged his blood against her lip. Harlow was quick to swipe it off with the back of her hand, leaping away as she did.

“You can f*****g try,” she snarled. “I’d put a bullet in my head before I’d ever give you the pleasure of touching me.”

Whatever his intention, r**e, t*****e, or murder, she wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Not if she had a choice, and as far as she was concerned, there was always a choice. As long as she had the ability to take her own life, there was a choice.

Grabbing her arm, Brash thrust her against the fridge. “You’re good at that, aren’t you?” he hissed. “Putting bullets in people.”

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Brash wasn’t Ophelia’s minion at all. At least, he hadn’t started out that way. Ophelia had recruited Brash and Animal to do her dirty work after killing her brother, Jarvis Hagan, their original boss.

Brash and Animal were loyal to Jarvis Hagan and believed they were continuing their work for him by protecting Ophelia. They were ignorant to the fact that Ophelia had pulled the trigger and killed the man they cared for.

Harlow had done time in jail for the crime until the evidence in her case was lost. After that, the charges against her had been dropped. But that wasn’t enough for Brash. It wasn’t enough for most people.

Being accused of killing a man wasn’t an easy mistake to come back from. Harlow hadn’t pulled the trigger, but she’d been present when Hagan died. She hadn’t gone to the authorities with what she knew either. Both to protect the Pothos operation and her crew who could be implicated in other crimes.

“You’re some kind of fool,” she said in the back of her throat through her gritted teeth and thrust forward to push him away.

He wasn’t holding her tight; he didn’t intend to keep her in place. Brash just wanted to throw his weight around in an attempt to intimidate her. That wasn’t an easy feat these days.

“You’ll think that right up until the moment I pour Pothos down your throat and force you to come around my c**k, again and again, over and over.”

So r**e was what he had in mind. The idea that she could ever enjoy anything he would do to her was sickening. Unfortunately, she wasn’t ignorant to what Pothos did. Simply put, the elixir enhanced s****l experience. Magnifying usual sensations to meteoric levels, it wasn’t really possible to take the d**g and be impervious to the acts being performed.

She’d never taken it and never would voluntarily. Brash’s intention revealed the level of his narcissistic depravity. Most rapists would choose a sedative to subdue their victim, making them easier to manipulate. Brash, on the other hand, didn’t want her just to take what he forced upon her, he wanted her to enjoy it too.

“What would your boss say to that?” she asked. “You think he’d like you pleasuring the woman who you believe killed him?”

“Hagan was smart,” he said, his attention slithering all over her. “He knew what you were good for. Despised that you kept it for the asshole who ruined his life… Think it’s only right we ruin the asshole’s woman before we dispose of her, don’t you?”

Harlow would accept all forms of t*****e before she’d choose r**e. She supposed that was the point of it. An irrational doubt crept into her mind as she recalled something she’d once said to Ryske about accepting him into her body again if he ever gave himself to Ophelia. His decision would be voluntary while r**e wouldn’t.

Except she couldn’t help but think Ryske would never be able to touch her again if she’d allowed herself to be pleasured by Brash. With Pothos in her system, she couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t feel pleasure. That terrified her more than the notion of death.

Projecting confidence, Harlow pushed her shoulders back and smiled up at him. “The trouble is, it’s not possible… After being with Ryske, I’m complete. Take whatever you think you can, the memory of him will always put it back.”

Turning away, she sashayed past Animal, measuring each step, reminding herself to go slow. Slipping out of the room, she went to her bedroom and closed the door. Her sanctuary was little more than a bed under a fixed pane window. She had a nightstand, with nothing in it, and a vanity beside a dresser.

Sinking onto the stool in front of her vanity, she touched the redness on her face. She didn’t have anything to put on it to reduce the swelling. Not in her bedroom. She’d wait until she heard Brash and Animal go back into the living room before considering a return to the kitchen to retrieve ice.

Life was reaching terminal velocity. They’d all put up with each other for long enough; it was becoming too much. Playing it civil had never been easy, but they’d at least managed to keep their hands off each other… until now.

Two more weeks. She didn’t know for sure that she’d walk out of Ophelia’s then, but Harlow hoped to have the evidence they needed before the deed became final. After that, there wasn’t much reason to stick around.

If Ryske was willing to make good on his threat, she had even more reason to work hard. Telling him about Brash’s threat could snooker that plan. Her love might be reluctant to hand himself over to Ophelia knowing it would lead to Harlow being thrown to the wolves.

Harlow wouldn’t let Ophelia triumph. The damned woman had held the upper hand for too long. One thing was clear, Harlow needed to kick up her efforts. The countdown had just become more real.