Author's Note: I apologize for the wait. Normally I like to update at least once a week. However, this week was very social for me which is good for me, but bad for writing. Plus every time I sat down to write, I ended up working on a different chapter (or a different story). I'm still not 100% pleased with this chapter, but I do want to post something on this story.

Fair warning, this chapter has some adult language in it and some violence.


Paige swirls the glass in her hand distractedly, shaking the loan ice cubes that remain. She can hear them rattling in the empty glass, which is surprising because the music is still blasting and Pedro is talking to her, yelling is more like it, but even with his increased volume, Paige barely hears a word. She holds the glass up to the bartender as a sign he should bring her a refill and for the hundredth time scans the crowd behind Pedro, searching for a sign of Mike.

She's usually more covert than this. A better listener. But another empty glass and the scent of Mike lingering in her lungs has made it impossible to concentrate on something as insignificant as Pedro. Instead she replays in her mind the entire night, every possible detail she might have missed. She keeps coming back to, it must be impossible, because even if by some miracle Mike hadn't died in that hospital, he wouldn't have waited two months to contact her. Unless...

No.

No "unless".

Mike was dead.

There was no miracle. There had been a funeral, granted one she didn't attend, and his ashes had been sent back to his family on the east coast. No. There was no way Mike Warren could be at this club.

Paige's eyes scan the crowd again.

The bartender sets a new drink down, and Paige reaches for it, but Pedro grabs it from her first. As far as he's concerned, she will not drink, eat or breath until he tells her to. Paige's eyes narrow in annoyance but at least now he has her attention.

"Are you even listening to me?" Pedro demands.

No. Paige thinks, but instead plasters on a sweet smile and answers, "Of course."

"Then answer me!" He barks.

Paige thinks back, but has no idea what the question is. It feels like Pedro's been ranting for an hour. Her eyes begin to drift beyond his shoulder to the crowd, but she knows she needs to focus, so she forces them back to Pedro and tries to look apologetic.

"Sorry the music is loud. What did you say?" She asks.

"Who was that pretty boy you were creaming yourself for? Who? Your exboyfriend?" Pedro leans in even closer, aggressively, her drink held in his vice like grip.

What makes Paige flinch is not so much his menacing tone, but his term "exboyfriend." Was that what Mike was? The term somehow seemed too official and at the same time completely inadequate to describe their relationship. Mike had never officially been her "boyfriend" so how could he now be her ex? Yet, at the same time he had been for better or worse one of the most significant relationships she'd ever had. Not that it mattered, because the man she was dancing with was not Mike.

"I told you, I don't know. I was just dancing, baby." Paige can barely conceal the annoyance in her voice. She can't work like this. She's a little drunk and she's very shaken up. She needs to go home. Recollect herself. She shouldn't be working tonight. And damn that Mike Warren for screwing up her cases and messing with her heart even from beyond the grave.

"You didn't even know who it was fucking you from behind? Are you that big of a whore that any man who wants you can have a taste?" Pedro chastises her.

Well I just met you two nights ago and now you think you own me, asshole. What did you expect? Paige thinks silently to herself, but is wise enough to keep her mouth shut.

"And how do you think that makes me look to my men, huh? To have to sit and watch while some other man takes what's mine? To watch you panting like a bitch in heat? Are you trying to make me look like a fool?"

Paige grinds her teeth. She hates misogynistic assholes. She hates being treated like nothing more than the property of men. She's felt it every day of her life. The systematic misogyny so deeply ingrained in American culture that it was like the societal constructs had turned into an invisible cage. She felt it when she was sent home from school for wearing a tank top. When a boy she turned down for prom didn't relent in asking until she lied and told him she had a boyfriend. When she first worked at the DEA and was consistently assigned to be undercover as a stripper while the men she'd outranked got to go after big cartels. The stares. The catcalls. The gropes.

Usually she dealt with it by trying to use it to her advantage against the men who didn't see her coming. She'd allow them to think they owned her, right up until the moment she threw their asses in jail. Something had changed since Sulla's though. Something about the blatant notorious presumption that she was nothing more than her body and her body was the property of men to be sold and traded had made it harder to ignore the invisible bars she used to manipulate so well.

"If you would have danced with me, it wouldn't have happened, but you were too busy talking to your friends. I was bored. I was just dancing baby. It was innocent." Paige bats her eyelashes and tries to soothe Pedro's bruised ego.

"Don't give me that bullshit. I saw the two of you. There was nothing innocent about it." Pedro yells back. He's standing so close she can feel his spit speckle her cheek. She takes a step backwards and curses herself for it. She needs to stand her ground. Show no weakness.

Paige blushes despite herself at the memory of the heat of the strong hands on her waist. The wet satin of his lips on her neck. The pure lust he pumped into her veins with every thrust of his unmistakable desire rubbing against her ass. Once again her eyes scan the crowd… No, Paige. Focus.

"I didn't think you'd be the type of man to get jealous of some little boy. I'm obviously yours baby. Let's just forget it and go back to the table have a drink and calm down." Paige says, which is a lie, because she knew he was the jealous type.

"Oh no. Those men are far too important to associate with the likes of you. I need them to respect me! If they think I'm going to stand for letting you humiliate me like that in front of everyone then they'll never do business with me. Not with a man who can't even control his own woman."

"Look baby, you're drunk and angry and making a big deal about nothing. I'm yours, and your men clearly see that. Why don't we just go sit back down at the table. I'll stay by your side the whole night. By the end of the night no one will remember one little dance." She is rapidly losing control of this situation and about to punch Pedro in the face. If she can just calm down, she can rally. She can handle this. She just needs to focus, and bring it back to a manageable level.

"If you're going to be my girl let's get one thing straight. I do not share my toys." Pedro grabs Paige roughly by the arm and growls at her. Paige looks down at the hand on her arm with murder in her eyes. She needs to calm down. She needs to get out of here. "So if you want to make it up to me, you're going to prove it right now."

He begins to drag her away from the bar, and Paige is suddenly filled with apprehension. She is not sure what this wild man is going to do. She's already half way across the floor when she realizes her purse is still at the bar. That could be her excuse, she could go back to get it and then run like hell. "Wait my purse! I'll be right back in a second..."

Pedro pays no attention to her plea though and continues dragging her along. She suddenly realizes he is not dragging her towards the table of men, but towards a side door exit. She tries to pull away and once again looks desperately back towards her purse. Her phone and her wallet are in there. More importantly, so is her gun.

Paige struggles, and cries out for help from anyone who might be around, but Pedro shoves her out the door and the few men within earshot pretend not to hear her cries. No one wants to intervene.

Paige stumbles out into the alleyway. She tries to catch her balance, but the heel of her shoe breaks off from the awkward angle and her ankle twists. Pain shoots up her leg, but it's eclipsed by the terror of knowledge that comes with it. The injury, while not permanent, will cancel out the option of running. And every instinct deep in her gut tells her that running is exactly what she should be doing.

"You're hurting me. Let me go." Paige, finally manages to throw him off of her, limping away and trying to hide the fact her ankle is twisted. She does not want to show him any weakness. Every nerve in her body is on alert, and she knows she's in trouble. He's standing between her and the door, a terrifying grin on his face. He knows he has her cornered.

"Did I hurt you? Come over here Kaylie I'll kiss it and make it better."

"It's not funny. I want to go home." Paige says, trying to keep her voice from showing the fear she feels. She knows he has no intention of letting her go now. Regardless, she tries to walk around him to the door back to the club, but he steps in front of it aggressively, no longer keeping up any pretenses that he's a gentleman. That he's human.

"No where to run Kaylie." He taunts and Paige feels an odd satisfaction that this man still doesn't know her real name. It's a small victory considering he may kill her.

She pauses and looks towards the long alleyway. She wonders if her ankle will support her enough to at least get out into the street. She decides she has to try for it, because Pedro outweighs her by at least a hundred and forty pounds, and she does not want to attempt hand to hand combat. She kicks off her other shoe and begins to run, but barely makes it two steps before he grabs her forcefull shoving her back up against the brick wall. His body presses against hers threateningly as she struggles to get away.

"Let go of me!" She screams, struggling to unpin her arms.

"Come on, I saw you dancing like a wanton whore on the floor. Grinding back on that pretty boy. And now you want to play shy? What? I'm not pretty enough for you?" Pedro taunts her.

"Get off me! I said no!" Paige shoves him back just far enough that she can bring her free arm up and punch him in the face. The force knocks him back and Paige immediately tries to run inside, but he still has a tight grip on her arm and he uses his leg to kick her feet out from under her.

"You don't get to say no anymore. I saw you on that dance floor. Saw you shaking your ass for everyone to see. Saw you begging that pretty boy to fuck you. You want to be a worthless slut? I'll treat you like one." He snarls at her, blood seeping from his busted lip where Paige's fist had made contact. He grabs her by the throat and pushes her up the brick wall so her toes are dangling helplessly trying to touch the floor. He grinds his huge body into hers, and she struggles to breath. Struggles to get away.

He pulls Paige so close to his face she can taste his sour breath. He has he has her arm twisted and pinned uncomfortably around her back, her other hand clawing desperately at the hand that is choking her by the throat. With as much strength as she can manage, Paige pulls back her head and slams her forehead into her attacker's nose.

Pedro bellows out in pain and for a moment drops her. Paige scrambles to get away, but he grabs her by her hair, dragging her backwards. The skin on her knees tears as she's drug along the harsh gravel of the cement, struggling to find her balance and get back on her feet. She starts to scream, and his hand is shoved roughly into her mouth to stop her. She gags as the fingers invade her throat and then bites down as hard as she can. Now it is Pedro who screams for her.

"You stupid bitch!" Pedro's hand is bleeding even as he slaps her across the face. Before she can recover he uses his other hand to yank Paige's hair back roughly, using the force to drive her head forward into the corner of the building. She feels the blinding pain as her forehead splits open on the jagged brick and she crumples onto the pavement.

Everything seems to go silent except for the ringing in her ears and Pedro's muffled swearing somewhere above her.

She knows she needs to get up.

Needs to fight.

She tries to focus her blurry vision, but she can see the lights dimming as the world starts to fade to black. The last thing Paige sees is the blood trickling down into her eye and her attacker towering above her. The last thing she hears is a shot ring out. The last thing she feels is darkness wrapping around her.