Dark by Lora Ann

☆Dark

☆Author Lora Ann

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Snippet MA

Infuriated didn’t even begin to explain how he was feeling at the moment. Little viper did what he always knew she would, break his fucking heart as she ran as far and fast as she could from him. Damn, she was phenomenal at staying low and keeping just out of reach. He was impressed with Keeley’s skills even if he wanted to spank her ass for it. Girl could give some of the best known terrorists a run for their money on how to proficiently play cloak and dagger. A quick shake of his head brought him back into focus. He couldn’t let his mind wander back to those caves in Afghanistan. They held demons he’d fought hard to escape, barely surviving.

Get your head in the game, McNeil.

The night vision binoculars aided his ability to identify his target. Definitely the woman in question entered a sex club. Acknowledgement that she would let some disgusting prick have sex with her did not bode well for whoever the man was when Tar got his hands on him. Unbidden, the visual of pure violence came to him.

Yeah, this was a no go.

In his frame of mind, he would kill, at the very least, maim. Now that he found her, though, he wasn’t walking away. Decision made, he strode with purpose. Heaven help whoever had his woman in the throes of passion, or most likely pain.

With the stealth of all his training, he entered unnoticed. What met his eyes threw him for a loop momentarily. Accustomed to Even Strand’s establishments, he was by no means prepared to step back in time. Staring him head-on was the Spanish Inquisition. Unlike the dungeons he’d grown fond of hanging around at E’s clubs, this was a full-blown torture chamber. His mind instantly brought up pictures of Senator Caleb Reynolds’ “play areas” front and center. Sick fuck got exactly what he deserved. In his opinion, it was poetic justice at its finest. Regret began to fill Tar as he tamped it back. There was no way to raise the dead so Tar could kill him for the hell he’d put Keeley and the Strand women through.

Futile to even go there.

He scanned the area with hawk-like precision, quickly concluding she was not in there. “Thank God,” he spoke under his breath and continued on the mission.

Determined to ignore the shrieks and cries, reminding himself they were consenting adults choosing to be tortured for pleasure. Thought made his skin crawl, not out of judgement but concern that Keeley was slipping deeper into an addiction he wasn’t sure he could pull her out of. He’d known she was fighting it. The fact she was in a place like this, told him—she’d long lost the battle. First, he got her the hell out of there. Then, he needed to do his homework. There had to be a way to balance her. Help her find the healthy medium between pain and pleasure.

The blood-curdling scream froze him momentarily. His body went into action long before his brain connected the dots. Keeley. She didn’t sound like a woman who accepted whatever was being done to her. Confirmation came on a, “NOOO!”

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