Chapter Ten

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Detective Yates ripped the bag off Eden's head and slammed his knee into her lower back, making her collapse onto the concrete floor on her hands and knees. She gasped, trying to force breath back into her lungs. Each breath seemed to drain her, rather than relieve her.

"Get up," he barked.

"Fuck you." She knew being defiant would only further his rage, but she didn't care. Anger, betrayal, and fear were filling her chest, though she wasn't sure which one would win out.

How had she not seen this coming? How had she given her trust away so easily?

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her up to her feet; a piercing scream erupted from her throat. He jerked her hair down so she was forced to look up into his brown eyes. He smiled. "Oh, I intend to." His other hand trailed up her neck. She trembled.

"Stop touching me," she whispered.

"Or what?"

Eden jerked her head forward and head-butted him in the neck at the same time she raised her knee to his groin. She may as well have done nothing. His hand tightened around her hair and pulled even harder. She screamed.

"Am I going to have to gag you?" he asked in an amused voice that sent fear flooding her body like nothing else had; he was enjoying her terror. Yates finally released her hair and pulled her into a tight headlock. He kicked at the back of her knees and urged her forward towards a metal table.

She was trying to think of a way out of this, the masked man had taught her, but none of their training lessons were boiling to the surface of her mind, the only thing she could think about was Yates and how stupid she'd been to trust him.

She sucked in a deep breath and eyed the table he was guiding her towards. There was a bucket, a roll of duct tape, a weirdly shaped fire poker, and a ball of cloth. She stopped dead. Yates walked into her back and his hold tightened around her neck. The only thought now filing her head was that Parker Yates was going to torture her. Parker Yates, the man she though was trying to protect her, was about to do the opposite.

And suddenly, she remembered. All in one movement she threw her head, elbows, and hips back into Yates's firm body. He stumbled back a few feet, completely taken off guard. As she sprinted towards the metal table, he lurched forward, tackling her to the floor. Her chin hit the concrete and his fingers dug into her thighs, trying to pull her back to him. She trashed, arms and feet lashing at him in every direction.

"Stop!" he yelled. "Enough."

But she kicked. She kicked with everything she had in her, kicking at his attacking figure, her foot connected hard with his jaw causing him to let out a pained grunt. She kicked again; she heard a loud cracking sound, but still she kicked. She kicked until she was a good foot away, then scrambled to her unsteady feet. She took a step backwards, her eyes locked onto Yates's bloody face. His hand shot out and latched itself around her ankle; he yanked her back to the floor with him. Her spine hit the concert floor, along with the back of her head, and she felt the air leave her lungs. Her mouth opened but no sound followed. She blinked. Blinked harder. Yates was looming over her, his nose dripping blood. She saw concern shadow the features of his handsome face for a mere second, and then he was flipping her onto her stomach and pinning her to the ground with his knee as he held both her hands twisted behind her trembling back with one of his own.

"Well aren't you full of surprises?" Yates whispered. "Who taught you that? Your masked friend? You're little puppet?"

"What do you want from me?" she begged.

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