“Let go of me,” I snap, trying to wrench free.
The man holding my arm tightens his grip and forces it higher behind my back until my shoulder screams.
Voss doesn’t rush.
He just walks slowly around the desk while I struggle against the two men holding me in place.
“Well,” he says calmly, “that escalated quickly.”
“Go to hell,” I shoot back.
He stops right in front of me. For a moment he just studies my face like he’s deciding something. Then he reaches out and grabs a fistful of my hair. Hard. My head jerks backward, forcing me to look up at him. “You’ve got a mouth on you,” he says quietly.
I glare at him. “And you’ve got a crowbar fetish.”
His expression changes instantly. The backhand comes so fast I barely see it. His hand cracks across my face, snapping my head sideways. The impact rings in my ears and sends a burst of white light across my vision.
For a second the room tilts. The guy behind me tightens his grip to keep me upright. Voss watches my reaction closely. Then, surprisingly, the corner of his mouth lifts. “Still standing,” he says.
I taste blood where my teeth cut the inside of my cheek. “You hit like a bitch,” I mutter.
Voss grabs my hair again and yanks my head back so I’m forced to look straight at him. “You know what I like about you?” he says conversationally before punching me in the gut.
“My charming personality?” I gasp.
“Your spirit,” he replies. “Most people in this town are already scared of me before they walk through that door.”
“Maybe they’ve got better survival instincts.”
He chuckles. “Maybe.” He releases my hair and steps back, looking me over like he’s evaluating a piece of equipment. “You’ve got guts, loyalty, and a complete lack of self-preservation,” he says. “That’s a rare combination.”
I straighten as much as the guys holding my arms will allow.
“What did you expect?”
“What I expected,” he says calmly, “was Wayne calling to negotiate.”
“That’s not happening.”
He tilts his head slightly. “Maybe not.”
Then he folds his arms. “Tell me something,” he says. “Wayne pay you well?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Humor me.”
I roll my eyes. “I make enough.”
He smiles faintly. “I’d pay you three times what he does.”
For a second I just stare at him. “You’re kidding.”
“Not even a little,” Voss says. “Come work for me. Someone with your backbone could be useful.”
I laugh. “You’re offering me a job?”
“I’m offering you an opportunity.”
