Catching the Storm

43. One's Enough

Crystal's POV

My hair was in my face and I kept my head down. I didn't want Branson to see the pain he'd caused me. He knew, I was sure. But that didn't mean I was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing my face.

Tears rolled down my cheeks from the pain and I couldn't stop them. My breathing was harsh and ragged but no amount of effort from me was calming it. I clenched my teeth together to keep from making a sound and I continued to keep my head down.

My chin was gripped viciously and I was forced to look up at Branson once more. To look into his cold, unfeeling eyes . . . or rather, eye.

He was ridiculously put together for someone who was torturing someone else. A suit and tie. Shiny shoes. Hair combed and slicked back. The only thing out of place was where I'd spat blood out on his shirt. What a shame.

"Now, Crystal," Branson said as he forced me to look at him. "Your father wants me to get the information from you, but I have some questions of my own."

I just glared at him since I didn't trust myself to speak. My voice would either come out too shaky and scared, or I would just end up saying something stupid that would result in another beating.

"I want to know why Jackson Storm is trying to find me."

I shrugged as I looked him up and down. "Not for fashion advise, I can tell you that."

The blow that came after I opened my mouth was almost worth it.

Just before Branson opened his mouth to continue questioning me, his phone went off. He paused for a moment and pulled it from his pocket. He grimaced as he looked at whatever was on the screen. He tucked the phone back into his pocket and turned to Sarah.

"I need to go speak with Mr. Carver," He told her. "Keep watch over her." He paused just before he left the room. "Or, you know, have your fun with her."

Sarah watched him as he left and then her gaze shot over to me.

"Why do you work for him?" I couldn't help but question her.

She shrugged. "He's getting something for me." She shook her head. "You really shouldn't have gotten in the way."

I studied her for a second. "And if I could get whatever it is, for you? Would you help me?"

She smiled at me and then shook her head. "I went to Kurt because I've done business with him before." She shrugged. "Should something . . . happen to him then I might take you up on your offer."

"So much for the neutral party you claim to be."

She smiled again. "I usually am," She said. "This time I get to be one of the bad guys."

"And that doesn't bother you?" I asked her.

Her smile got wider. "I play the hand I'm dealt." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Lines have a tendency to blur when I'm involved."

She watched me for a long moment. "You know," She said finally. "If you and I had met under different circumstances, I do believe the two of us could have been friends."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

There was the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall. Angry footsteps. Someone was practically stomping down the hall.

Since I figured that someone was either my father or Branson, that didn't bode well for me.

Branson came walking back into the room. His expression was angry and he turned his gaze on me with hateful eyes. Sorry-eye.