“How the hell would I know?” Joe asked, looking disgusted. “I’m done with her.”

“I don’t believe you. The information was fake! I want the fucking flash drive!” Crocker slammed Joe against the wall again to emphasize his point.

Two men stood behind Crocker. I guessed they were important from the suits they wore, their stiff postures, and the bored expressions on their faces. They had to be Crocker’s business partners.

Crocker pulled a gun out of the back of his pants and held it up to Joe’s head. I had already jumped to my feet and stuffed my gun under my shirt, into the waistband of my jeans. I hoped to high heaven I didn’t shoot my toes off.

“Where is she?” Crocker growled.

“Lookin’ for me?” I shouted, walking through the door. I tried to not look nervous, like I knew what I was doing.

Crocker turned in disbelief. Joe’s eyes widened in horror. I hoped to God he didn't try anything stupid.

I walked toward them, hands at my sides instead of up in surrender, even though I was scared out of my wits. I didn’t see me surviving this.

“Lookin' for me?” I shot Joe a condescending glare. I wanted Crocker to think Joe had nothing to do with me getting away. I stopped a few feet in front of the group, their mouths all dropped open in shock. Even the men in the suits looked a bit surprised, although their Botox-injected, wrinkle-free foreheads had a hard time expressing it.

Crocker slapped me across the face. I should have seen it coming, but it caught me by surprise. I almost fell over from the force of the blow, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I rose back up, lifting my chin to face him.

“Where the hell did you go, bitch?” he shouted, turning the gun toward me.

My cheek hurt and my eyes burned, but I refused to cry. I stood up straight and stared into his menacing eyes. “I was lookin' for a real man. One who knows how to kiss better than you.”

I saw the look of pure fear in Joe’s eyes before Crocker slapped me again, harder this time. I started to fall to the floor, but Crocker grabbed my arm and jerked me back up before wrapping his hand around my throat. His eyes, wild and feral, reminded me of a rabid raccoon I had seen on Uncle Earl’s farm when I was little.

“Why’d you come back?” he growled.

Inside sanity desperately clawed for control, but on the outside I tried to look indignant. “I decided to give you another chance to impress me, although I don’t hold out much hope.”

The men behind him laughed. The fury in Crocker’s eyes turned murderous and the grip on my throat tightened, cutting off my air. I started to feel lightheaded as I gasped for air.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” he said through gritted teeth, spittle shooting through a gap in his top teeth.

“I’ll give you two,” I choked out. “One, you’ll never get the real flash drive, and two, you’ll never be able to prove you’re really a man.”

The men laughed again. Crocker growled and gave me a hard shove to the ground and pointed the gun at my head. I stared at him defiantly, waiting for him to shoot, not daring to look at Joe and give him away.

“Crocker,” one of the men said. “She’s right.”

“You mean provin' he’s a real man?” the other laughed.

Crocker leaned over and grabbed my hair in a tight grasp. I couldn’t help the yelp of pain I let out when he jerked me off the floor.

“That hurt, bitch? ‘Cause I haven’t even started yet.” He pulled me toward the stairs. I looked toward Joe. He looked torn. I shot him a look that I hoped read don’t you dare.

We stumbled up the stairs, and I was sure I would have a giant bald spot on the side of my head, not that I would care if I was dead. They could always put a hat on my head although I never looked good in hats.

I was grateful the other two men hadn’t followed us. They stood watching the trucks being loaded, glancing up the stairs, and laughing. Joe had come out of his stupor and had begun moving toward the truck. I really needed him to not come upstairs.

Crocker opened the door and shoved me into the office with such force I ran into a desk.

“Where’s the flash drive?” He stood in the doorway and I had to admit, he was terrifying. It took everything in me to go through with this.

“Why should I tell you? You’ll kill me anyway.” I leaned against the edge of the desk, facing him. My cheek throbbed and my throat still felt tight. My heart galloped fast enough to win the Kentucky Derby.

“Damn straight I will, but I’ll make it hurt a hell of a lot more if you don’t tell me.”

“Why don't you prove you’re a man first?” I taunted and put my shaking hands on my hips.

He shut the door and slunk closer, stalking his prey. Crocker stopped a foot in front of me and grabbed the hair on the back of my head, his eyes glaring into mine. I still leaned against the edge of the desk, trying not to stand flush against him. If I did, he’d feel the gun in my waistband.

“I like it rough, baby. Think you can handle that?” His breath smelled of onions again. I was beginning to believe Crocker brushed his teeth with them.

“I like it rough, too. Why don’t you put that gun down and show me what kind of man you really are.”

It was sick the way that excited him, but he slammed the gun down on the desk and pulled me up. I placed my hand between the gun in my waistband and his body. He kissed me, his technique not much better than the night before. It reminded me of a slobbery Saint Bernard.