Read Madame X (Madame X #1) for Free Online Page B

thought. A single blow, jackhammer hard, to your liver. You drop like a sack of flour, moaning, writhing.
    “Len,” I say. One of the guards swivels his head on his thick neck, glances at me. I beckon to him, a crook of my finger.
    He moves to stand in front of me, hands clasped behind his back. “Ma’am?”
    “I overheard him speaking on the phone to a friend. I heard some . . . rather unsavory pieces of information.” I point at the ceiling. “Are your microphones powerful enough to have caught it?”
    Len’s face remains impassive. “I don’t know what you’re—”
    “Don’t insult my intelligence, Len.”
    A pause. “I’ll check the tapes, ma’am.” Len glances at you. “He’s a piece of shit.”
    “He’s a predator, Len. A sick, twisted criminal. He has a woman held captive somewhere, and he’s going to do something awful to her, if he hasn’t already.”
    “You fucking bitch!” you rasp from the floor. “You can’t prove shit.”
    One of the guards puts a large, polished-to-a-shine dress shoe on your throat. “You don’t speak to Madame X that way, boy.”
    “My father will have all of your jobs,” you threaten.
    Len laughs. “There are people in this world far more dangerous than your father, kid. Our employer makes your
daddy
look like a sad little kitten.”
    You glance at me, curious now. “X? She’s just a whore.”
    The shoe presses down, and you choke. Len strides over to you, kneels beside you. “Kid, you have no clue what you’re talking about. My friends and I? We’re just pawns on the chessboard. X? She’s the queen. And you? You’re not even on the board. Your precious papa? He might rank as high as a knight.
Maybe.
” Len reaches into his suit coat pocket, pulls out a copy of the contract. “And this? This is a legally binding document, signed by you and your daddy. There’s a whole shitload of fine print on this thing, son. You know what thatfine print says? It says that my friends and I are going to stomp the sniveling fuck out of your puny little corpse, and then you’re gonna show us your little playroom, and then we’re going to drag you to the nearest police precinct. And
then
 . . . and then our employer is going to sue your father for every dollar and every share he’s worth, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop us. Get me . . .
son
?”
    You quiver. You want to bluff, you want to bluster. You have never been bullied or threatened before. I doubt you have ever even felt pain. Lily-white little pissant. But Len’s eyes, they are a shade of steel-gray that brings to mind razor blades and gunmetal. They are not just cold eyes; ice is cold, winter is cold. Len’s eyes? They are vacuum cold. Deep space cold. Zero Kelvin cold. They are not lifeless, because they exude threat, like those of a leopard stalking prey. They hold truths of a dripping-scarlet variety.
    Len glances at me. “We can handle things from here, ma’am.”
    I take that as the cue it is and return inside. Close the door. But I can’t resist standing with my ear to the door. There are sounds that make my gut twist. Thuds, smacks, crunches. The sounds gradually become . . . wet.
    I shiver, and push away from the door.
    Eventually there’s the
ding
of the elevator, and I am alone once more. Forty-seven minutes until my next client.
    Hands shaking, I make a mug of tea. Earl Grey, a touch of milk. By the time I’m swallowing the final mouthful, the elevator
ding
s again, and my door opens.
    The figure that stalks through my door is not a client.
    •   •   •
    F ury turns dark eyes darker. Lids narrowed to slits. Chest swelling and compressing, fingers curled into fists.
    “Are you okay, X?” Voice like thunder, rumbling on the horizon.
    I shrug. “It was . . . unpleasant, but I will be fine.” My voice is steady, but raspy from being choked.
    Hands on my shoulders, gently but firmly holding me in place. Eyes sweep over my face, searching. Flick down to my