“What?” I asked with a small laugh. “Does it hurt your feelings when someone doesn’t want to work for you?”
He slapped me again, this time a backhand to my other cheek, but I didn’t regret provoking him, because his violence meant I was getting under his skin.
“I heard you had a mouth on you,” he said, all politeness gone. “Back when you worked with him before.”
My brain still wasn’t operating at one hundred percent, but even if it had been, I wouldn’t have had a clue who he was talking about. Keith? One of my uniformed partners?
I couldn’t imagine any of them telling anyone I was mouthy, because I’d been known for quietly observing.
“Bottom line,” I said, tasting metal in my mouth. “I don’t know where your accountant is.”
“What about my handler?” he asked, his voice tight with unrestrained anger. “And my girl?”
“That child was not your girl,” I spat. “And she’s somewhere you’ll never get to her again.”
“And my handler?”
“I have no idea,” I said truthfully. “And frankly, I don’t give a fuck.”
His palm cracked across my face, this time making my ears ring. It took me a second to push the fuzziness in my head away.
“I’ve heard you’re big on demanding respect,” he sneered. “But it’s your turn to learn some.”
Again, I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, and I had no idea why he would say that.
“Where’s Malcolm?” he demanded.
“Handing over enough evidence to put you away for life.”
He hit me again, and I struggled to keep my head upright because it was too early to start fading. I needed to stay focused. My time with Knox was just beginning.
He grabbed my face in his hand, his thumb and index finger pinching my stinging cheeks, and leaned over me, his face inches from mine. His eyes were dark with hatred. “Where’s Malcolm?”
“I have no fucking idea,” I said. “And that’s the God’s honest truth.”
He studied me a few seconds longer, then shoved my face away. My chair rocked as he took a step back. “Not to worry. We’ll find him soon enough.” He flashed me a smile. “We don’t need him for our talk.”
I remained silent, running through my options but coming up short. My hands were bound behind me, my legs tied to the chair. I wasn’t getting out of here, and the man in front of me would make sure I didn’t. My only hope was that Carter could still see my location and would send help. Because, while I’d given him Knox’s address, I doubted his home had a concrete dungeon. Of course, Carter might send his men to the wrong place. I had no idea when they’d stripped off my jacket or taken my phone.
“Where’s your mother’s file?” he asked.
“Somewhere you won’t get it,” I said with a bitter laugh.
Another slap.
“Let’s try that again,” he said. “Where is the?—”
“You’re wasting your time and breath,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m never going to tell you.”
He punched me in the stomach this time, knocking the wind out of me. I wasn’t sure why it caught me by surprise. I expected it to get a lot worse.
I wasn’t wrong. Several minutes later, I still hadn’t told him, and my left eye was swollen and my stomach ached.
Knox was getting frustrated and apparently worn out, based on his heavy breathing. He stepped away from me, beginning to pace as he rubbed his raw and swollen knuckles.
He stopped and turned to face me. “Where have you been the last few years?”
I was pretty sure I was concussed, because his question didn’t make any sense. “I was in the Little Rock Police Department,” I said, surprised to hear it come out slurred.
