72. Cohen

72

COHEN

T he negative result stared back at me from the test window of the rapid serum HCG test I'd set on the counter five minutes ago. I swiped a hand out and sent the cassette flying across the room. Not bothering to see where it landed.

I didn't like losing. More than that, I didn't like when shit didn't go my fucking way. And this was both. Now I had to wait another four weeks before doubling my efforts.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind the act itself. Fucking Emily was up there on the list of my favorite pastimes. Right next to fucking with her, of course. And I had a full five years of both to make up for. But I also had to get back to work before the cash dried up. I had a feeling Adrian didn't believe in IOUs. Unless he was the one asking for ?em.

I pivoted on the heel of my boot, keeping my expression neutral as I approached the metal table. Where I had Emily strapped down and waiting for me. I'd shoved a gag into her mouth and was a hair trigger away from sewing the damn thing shut as I pulled up my stool and rolled it closer to her head. Three quick sutures should do the trick.

On her cheek, not her lips. I hadn't made a decision on the last part yet.

She was watching me with wide eyes as I adjusted my headlamp and lifted the needle to her face. If I were nicer, I'd numb her up a bit first. But my pet needed to understand there were consequences for her actions. Especially actions that resulted in me being covered in human waste.

Truth was, she was fucking lucky all she got was a superficial kiss from my fifteen blade. Shit wouldn't even scar unless I wanted it to. I could make a damn paper cut scar if I wanted it to. She was also lucky I didn't make good on my threat to take her eye.

It'd be hard for her to look at me with disgust when she saw the same goddamn thing in the mirror, now wouldn't it? But that was an idea for another day.

Today, I needed to work on fattening her up a bit. Clearly her body was unfit to carry my child or she'd already be well on her way.

I released her legs before moving on to her ankles, then offered her a palm to help lower her back down to her feet. She scowled at me the entire time but didn't dare say a word.

Someone was learning.

It took two steps down the hall for me to realize I was giving my pet far more credit than she was due. She dug her feet into the ground, forcing me to look over a shoulder to glare at her.

I take that back. Emily hadn't learned shit.

"Where are you taking me now, Cohen?" She liked to use my name a lot. I think she thought it humanized me. It didn't. It just turned me the fuck on. Something she claimed she didn't want. Yet she kept doing it anyway.

"To my bedroom, Emily."

"For what?"

"For whatever I damn well please," I grunted before tugging her behind me again. She had to know I only paused in my steps because I chose to. Otherwise we'd still have been moving.

I didn't have to look back again to know she was trying to take in her surroundings. Count doors. Memorize landmarks. There was no point. The tunnels beneath Briarwood were a maze of connecting rooms and dead ends. It took me years to figure them all out for myself. Longer than that to add the additions. Like my bedroom and her little cell. But I'd let her think she had a chance of finding a way out. Because it would be so much more amusing when I finally got to see the expression on her face when she realized she couldn't.

A few minutes later, we were pushing through the metal door of my underground bunker. The room where I spent most of my time when I wasn't out there looking for Emily. It wasn't much to write home about, especially compared to my former life, but it sure as shit beat pissing in a bucket and sleeping on a concrete floor.

I dragged Emily inside and pressed the button on the panel that had everything locking from both sides. One of the little bonuses that came with making nice with Bugs. I helped him with medical shit and he helped me with the techy shit. Everything with the Renegades was about a fair trade—or at least it needed to appear that way. No one really sat down and made sure.

And, yeah, I still thought the name was fucking stupid. But I'd given up on trying to change Casper's mind while Adrian like to appease the fucker wherever he could. His way of keeping the kid out of trouble. A feat that was almost as fruitless as whatever plan my pet was concocting in her head as she shot me what I could only assume was supposed to be a scathing glare.

I pulled the chair away from the little dining set I'd positioned in one corner of the room and motioned for Emily to sit down. She complied begrudgingly as I took my seat opposite her, lifting the dome of the plate I'd had Donnie deliver about thirty minutes ago.

It seemed my pet decided to sacrifice a hot meal for acting bratty, so now we both had to suffer and eat our food cold.

I handed her a dulled-edge fork—I wasn't stupid—and began cutting up her steak into bite-sized pieces. Placing the utensil out of her reach but well within mine as soon as I was done. Then I stabbed a soggy piece of broccoli with my own fork, setting it into my mouth and forcing it down before landing my reluctant dinner guest with a smirk.

"Eat up, Emily. We have so much to discuss."