Chapter 25
twenty-five
M y body froze, ice trickling down my spine. Swallowing, I stared at one of the largest men I’d ever seen. A snake tattoo corded around his thick neck, the tail disappearing under the collar of his fitted black tee. He had a few other small tattoos inked on his face…gang marks. His beefy fingers wrapped around my arms like they were thin pretzel rods. A small amount of pressure and my bones would snap. An unpleasant image, and one I wished my brain wouldn’t have shared.
He yanked me roughly close, and I got a whiff of alcohol on his breath. “What is a pretty thing like you doing lurking around in the dark?”
Keep cool. Don’t let him know you’re scared. I batted my lashes, wishing I’d at least put on a coat of massacre this morning because the only way I was getting out of this situation was by using my womanly wiles. As if I had any of those. But it was worth a shot. “You think I’m pretty?” The question came out more sarcastic than sexy, making me want to walk into a wall.
Appreciatingly hazel eyes glanced me over, lingering too long on my exposed legs beneath Tristan’s hoodie. “You got guts playing games.”
My pulse thudded in my ears as I tried to think of a way out of this situation. “I was looking for the bathroom.” The excuse tumbled in a rush out of my mouth. Yep. That’s what I came up with…a sad, pathetic excuse if I ever heard one.
He laughed, and I hoped that was a good omen, but I seriously had doubts. “Does this look like a public outhouse, darling?”
I got another puff of alcohol breath in my face. “Should you be drinking on the job? This is a job, right? Like you work here?” I rambled, unable to stop my lips from flapping nonsense.
A snap of cold seriousness entered his features. “Best to keep your questions to yourself.”
The pain in my arms from his hands changed to numbness. “Someone was following me, okay? I was running away from them. That’s the truth.”
“Who?” He peered over my head like he half expected someone lurking in the dark.
“I didn’t stop to ask his name.” This sarcasm was going to get me in trouble. The more scared I got, the sharper my tongue seemed to lash.
“You should have asked for directions because you, little minx, have come to the wrong place for help. Move it.” Without waiting for me to comply, my captor hauled me toward the side door.
Tristan, you better be fucking in there. “So, I guess using your phone to call a friend is out of the question?” The metal door clanged closed behind us feeling like a prison cell, locking me inside with a bunch of criminals.
“That’s for the boss to decide,” he said with a bone-chilling smirk.
I tripped over my feet, but the beefcake held me up. Blowing the hair out of my face, I gained my footing. “Huh. I thought for sure you ran things around here. My mistake.”
“Move it, minx.” He gave me a shove and not too gently either, sending me stumbling into the open space and nearly running into a metal pole.
I grabbed it for support, my mind whirling while my breathing came out shallow and uneven. Not an ideal situation. But I’m not dead yet. Clinging to the pole, I took in my surroundings, desperate for someone or something to help me. Tristan’s name sat on the tip of my tongue, ready to be screamed, and it should have probably been the first thing I did.
Cold concrete covered the floor, which I imagined made cleaning up blood easier. The warehouse was vast, a hollow shell of what it once had been. Moonlight filtered through the ceiling windows, casting ghostly beams of light across half a dozen cars parked inside and stacks of dusty, forgotten crates. My heart pounded in my ears, almost drowning out the subtle creak of the door behind me. This place looked like a cross between something from Fast and Furious and Breaking Bad .
“Who’s this?” a man with a gruff voice said, and I spun my head in his direction. I had no idea what to expect. Perhaps a shaved head. Scary muscles. Even scarier tattoos. Scruffy facial hair. Although he did have some tattoos, he had a pretty-boy face, except for the scar that slashed across his cheek, but it didn’t take away from his striking features. He had raven hair, but whereas Tristan’s was like a starless sky, this man’s was warmer than cooler. Looks could be deceiving, and seeing cruelty in his deep-brown eyes, I would be stupid to discard him as harmless.
“I found her,” Beefcake answered, ratting me out.
Scarface shoved off the sparkling Lamborghini he’d been perched against. “What do you mean you found her?”
“She was sneaking around outside. I thought you might have a few uses for such a pretty thing. I didn’t want her to go to waste,” Beefcake explained, his wide body blocking my escape. The only way now was forward.
Scared, angry, and bewildered, I lashed out with my best defense mechanism. Sarcasm. “Are you looking for a pat on the back from your boss? I didn’t peg you for such an ass-kisser,” I mumbled to the asshole corralling me like a damn sheep.
He grabbed my waist in a bruising grip, tearing me away from the pole. “Shut up. Your attitude is no longer cute,” he muttered into my ear, his hot breath slimy on my skin.
“But you still think I’m pretty,” I snarkily retorted even though I knew it would cost me. I braced for the pain.
Grubby fingers twined into my hair, pulling my head so the column of my neck was exposed. “Give me two minutes alone with you, and I’ll show you how pretty I think you are.”
Revulsion surged, disgust gagging the back of my throat.
“Enough!” Scarface barked, his voice echoing like a blowhorn through the warehouse. “Put her in the back room until I’m done. And make sure she doesn’t escape.” He sounded annoyed with the disruption.
Now was the time to start resisting. The back room didn’t sound like a place I wanted to be locked in. Where the fuck is Tristan?
I’d been so damn sure he would pop out and save me. It was the sole reason I hadn’t gone into full-blown panic and could keep some of my wits about me. But now…the longer time stretched with me in the clutches of the mafia, the swifter my confidence plummeted…rapidly.
I twisted away from Beefcake, trying to dislodge his hold on me. Thinking quickly, I slammed my foot atop his and managed to break free while he let a curse fly. Whirling, I searched for a place to run since the asshole blocked the entrance we entered, but my reprieve from his clutches was short-lived. I hadn’t put enough space between us to stop his sausage fingers tangling into my hair again. One second, I was moving forward, and the next, I was pitching backward, searing pain erupting at my scalp.
I yelped, making the mistake of trying to loosen his iron grip. He had me against his chest, pinned with arms like a viper, squeezing tighter the harder I struggled.
“She’s with me.” A deep, ominous voice I recognized well cut through the warehouse.
I froze, knee-trembling relief whipping through me like a hurricane.
Thank fucking god.
“Tristan,” I whispered, my eyes finding him in the corner of the warehouse, standing beside the boss.
His expression shimmered with cold violence. “I thought I told you to stay in the car, Shortcake.”
“Yeah, if I wanted to be murdered. Someone is following us.” The confession flew out of my mouth, regret making me wince. “Shit,” I mumbled under my breath, feeling muscles behind me stiffen.
Grim confusion infiltrated his blue eyes. “Following us? Who?”
In another situation, I would have rolled my eyes, but with the amount of fear swimming in my veins, I couldn’t muster the effort. “If I knew who, do you think I would look so scared?”
Now had probably not been the best time to tell him we were being followed, considering our company, but it was too late. I doubted any of these fine gentlemen…uh, street thugs would take kindly to learning someone outside the circle discovered their clubhouse or whatever this was. I no longer was sure I wanted to know the details.
The boss jerked his head at two of his henchmen who jumped silently to do his bidding without hesitation. They burst out the door I’d been dragged through.
Then those tyrannical eyes turned to me and remained zeroed on my face as he left Tristan in the corner, coming to stand before me. Beefcake released me and backed up, leaving me to his boss. Using the back of his hand, the boss ran his knuckles down the side of my face, the two rings on his fingers gliding over my cheek. I refused to flinch, looking him square in the eyes. “You look familiar, sugar. Have we met before? I can’t place your face.”
My chin lifted. “I think I would remember if we had.”
The boss angled his head to the side, glancing at Tristan. “I thought you came alone. That was our agreement.”
Murder shone in my neighbor’s eyes, fury radiating off him. “She’s no one, Angelo. Just a girl I was with when I got the text.”
Despite knowing he downplayed our relationship with calculated purpose, I hated the burn in my stomach. I made a weird agreeing sound, trying to play it cool, but it came out awkward. “I’m just his annoying neighbor.”
Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose, and I knew I fucked up.
Angelo snapped his fingers, his sinister eyes brightening. “You’re the bargaining chip. I never forget a face, especially one as stunning as yours. What are you doing with this Malone?”
“She’s mine.” Tristan’s face was hard, his eyes dark and filled with something I’d never seen in him before. Possession. “That’s all you need to know.”
A special brand of ruthlessness curled on Angelo’s lips. “Well, well, well…this night just got interesting.”
Tristan’s hands balled at his sides. “And if you touch her again, I’ll make this night un-fucking-forgettable.”
Angelo laughed. “Except you’re in no position to issue threats. Have you considered my offer?”
Tristan’s lips twitched like he was being reminded of a bad memory. “The answer’s still no.”
As if to test Tristan’s control, Angelo put his arm around me, tugging me against his chest. “You would make a great addition to my crew, Malone. We both know you would fit right in. It’s like you were born to be part of the Crows.” That explained the black bird tattoo covering Angelo’s forearm.
My insides went cold at being so close to Angelo, the seawater and sandalwood notes of his cologne choking me.
The muscles along Tristan’s neck throbbed. “You know why I’m here.”
“Right. The debt.” Angelo squeezed me, the side of his head lightly tapping mine. “Except now we have a complication.” His arms dropped away from my shoulder, and I glanced sideways at him, noticing the gun he held in his right hand.
The bitter bite of fear sank its teeth into me, making it difficult for me to breathe.
With slow steps, Tristan walked around the Lamborghini, his body taut and ready to strike. “She isn’t a problem. I’ll make sure of it. I’ve never gone back on my word.”
“No, you haven’t. The question remains…what am I going to do with you, sugar?” I thought he might touch me again, but he seemed to reconsider, Tristan’s threat lingering in the air. Angelo tapped a finger against the side of his gun. “You are turning out to be quite the valuable little treasure. I have the urge to keep you a little longer. Everly, isn’t it?”
What the fuck? “How do you know my name?”
“It’s my business to know things—especially about those who I do business with,” Angelo said.
My gaze shot to Tristan. What was he mixed up in? And how had I gotten myself involved? “I don’t know anything. I don’t even know who you are. Or what you’re doing in this…lovely establishment.”
Angelo laughed again. “You’re funny. I have plenty of clients who would eat you up, sugar.”
I was convinced he meant that literally, a scary thought.
Tristan let out a grumbling breath. “She’s not up for negotiation.”
Angelo placed the tip of the gun’s barrel on my shoulder, trailing the cool metal down my arm. “I think you, better than anyone, would know that everything has a price. Even something we value and treasure.”
My legs trembled, and I didn’t know how long I could stay upright.
Tristan didn’t show an ounce of intimidation, and I couldn’t fathom how he did it. “Maybe in your world. But she isn’t something I’ll compromise on.”
The end of Angelo’s gun poked me in the side, right on the edge of my breast. “What if I told you to choose?”
Tristan’s glower darkened. He didn’t like Angelo’s insinuation. “I would advise against it. You won’t like the outcome,” he said with an eerie calm.
“I admire a man with balls, but you’re outnumbered, my friend.” Angelo leaned close to me and murmured near my ear. “Your boyfriend owes me a debt.”
I swallowed, attempting to find my voice. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Right, that would be his brother. Doesn’t change your importance, sugar.” Angelo turned, allowing me space as he lowered his gun and gave Beefcake an order. “Tie her up. We wouldn’t want our dear Everly to get hurt.”
Tie me up? Not a chance in hell. I was claustrophobic as fuck, and the thought alone gave me hives. The struggle was on again.
But the hulk-sized man behind me didn’t seem to care about my phobias. He restrained me easy enough as if I was nothing more than a toothpick.
Tristan’s fingers moved to his back, and I captured his gaze and shook my head ever so slightly. My protective neighbor whipping out his gun would only get him killed, which would put me at Angelo’s mercy. No one knew we were here. No one would rescue us. I’d be lost in whatever world Angelo tossed me or, more likely, sold me into.
I should have known Tristan wouldn’t obey my silent plea. It took only a blink for Tristan to uncloak his gun, using it to knock the guy closest to him in the temple. He went down, and before his body thudded to the ground, Tristan had the gun pointed at the second man, the safety off, and the weapon cocked. “Let her go, or you’ll have more than spilled blood to clean up,” he demanded, his tone dropping to arctic levels.
But while Tristan had made his move, so had my captor, releasing me, only to produce a gun of his own, the barrel jabbing into my temple. “Boss?”
I went still, every muscle in my body afraid to move. Pretty sure I stopped breathing. My throat constricted as I stared at Tristan. His fingers flexed on the trigger.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Malone,” Angelo reasoned, but I couldn’t tell if he actually cared about his men or getting Tristan to obey.
My mouth dried, and my stomach twisted with adrenaline-pumping terror. I could see what it cost Tristan to ease the gun away from Angelo’s man, his hands going up in surrender. He clenched his jaw so tight I could nearly feel the pain his teeth had to be feeling. “What do you want? Name your price.”
Angelo’s victoriously smug grin sent a streak of hot anger swimming in my veins. Seeing Tristan in such a vulnerable position at someone else’s mercy when he was such a dominating force shook me. I hated seeing him like this, and that hate was solely directed at Angelo.
A Cheshire grin spread over the boss’s lips, intensifying his scar. “Let’s talk business.”
Tristan’s eyes stayed on me as he followed Angelo into what I assumed was an office. They left the door open, but I could only hear murmurings. I stood in the corner, my leg bouncing as Beefcake loomed over me. He wasn’t letting me out of his sight, but I couldn’t stop staring at the door Tristan disappeared into. My breath caught in my throat as I strained to listen.
What would Angelo have him do?
Not knowing what they were saying or what Tristan was agreeing to was driving me mad.
It felt like an hour had passed before he emerged out of the office with Angelo behind him, but it had been only ten minutes at the most. The negotiations for my life didn’t take long, leading me to believe Tristan agreed to any terms Angelo set to keep me safe.
I couldn’t read his mood, his expression indecipherable.
“Tristan.” His name came out a cross between a plea and an apology.
“It will be fine.” Hardness lined every inch of his features. He wasn’t the same man who had been with me an hour ago. This Tristan I didn’t recognize. He’d become someone else all to save me.
No one stopped me when I went to him, gripping the front of his shirt. “You can’t do this. I won’t let you.”
His hands framed my face, the pad of his thumb running so softly over my cheek that I nearly cried. Tears definitely threatened to shed. How could his hand be so steady when I was shaking from the inside out? “It’s one job. Behave,” he murmured, brushing his lips over mine as the first tear fell.
I shook my head, clinging to his shirt when he tried to step away from me. Tristan’s mask only slipped for a second, a single blink, so quick I feared I imagined it, but I could still taste him on my lips.
Unholy fury swarmed me. I needed the rage over the fear if I planned to survive this night, especially once Tristan left. “How do you know it’s only a one-time thing?” I turned to Angelo, facing the devil. “If he does this, you’ll never ask him to do anything again.” In no position to barter, I still needed to hear it from Angelo. Not that I believed a word out of his crooked mouth. Still…
Angelo grinned, flashing his teeth. “Sugar, every time you open your mouth, it makes me want to keep you.”
I wiped roughly at my eyes, sucking back the emotions consuming me. “I’m already taken.”
The boss pursed his pompous lips, his white scar flashing under a ribbon of moonlight streaming through the ceiling. “Hmm, that part is a little murky to me.”
I had very little to barter with, yet it didn’t stop me from trying. “I’ll stay willingly, but you never ask Tristan for anything again. You can even tie me up.”
“Shortcake,” Tristan growled, the muscle at his temple pulsing faster.
I ignored him. “Do we have a deal?”
Angelo nodded. “Sure, why not, sugar.”
With my head high, I walked over to the chair and sat down, crossing my legs as if every fiber of my being wasn’t screaming at me to run. I placed my wrists on the armrests and waited.
“I’ll be back tonight, Shortcake” Tristan said before locking eyes with Angelo. “I need your word no one will touch her. I mean no one.”
“Not a single hair on her pretty head will be harmed until you return.” Angelo’s choice of words wasn’t lost on me. Once Tristan returned, all bets were off, and I’d be fair game again.
Fuck that.
Fire flickered in Tristan’s eyes, but I refused to look away. Every inch of him was burned into my memory, yet I couldn’t stop from taking in every detail of his face. “Don’t say anything that will get you killed.” And with those parting words, Tristan left.
I sank into the chair a second time, fully anticipating being restrained until Tristan made good on his deal with the devil, but Angelo only pulled a chair up across from me, the legs screeching against the concrete. “You don’t seem like someone who is into brothers.”
The last thing I wanted was to banter with a criminal. What I craved was a dark corner where I could curl up and cry. The sleeve of Tristan’s hoodie fell past my fingertips, and I toyed with the hem, tugging on the material. “It’s not like that,” I insisted.
“So, you aren’t fucking them both?” Angelo bluntly said.
I coughed. “No. Just Tristan,” I snapped. Why did I feel the need to reply? It was none of his business, but then again, Angelo knew way too much information about me. But how? Tristan was our only connection. Why would Tristan give him such detail? Or did Angelo do a thorough investigation on the people with whom he did dealings with? If so, how very responsible for someone in Angelo’s…business.
“Interesting,” he mused.
“Why is that interesting?” I couldn’t believe I sat across from the guy who held me hostage, talking about my sex life. What was my life?
With his elbows propped on his knees, Angelo cradled the gun between his legs, a not-so-subtle reminder of who was in charge. “Since we have the time, how about a little proposition?” he suggested.
“Go get fucked.”
Angelo chuckled, leaning back into a relaxed position in his seat. “I can’t figure out if I should pity or congratulate Tristan. You are?—”
A disruption stirred outside the warehouse, and Angelo and I looked toward the side door. He reached for his gun at the scuffling sounds. Whoever lingered outside wasn’t alone. Had his guys found the man following Tristan and me?
On a gust of wind, the door blew open, sending the lights dangling from the ceiling, swaying and flickering light over the floor. The stale air circulating inside the warehouse hinted at elements of damp pine from the breeze. The woods weren’t the only thing the breeze brought with it.
My heart thudded in my chest as two figures appeared in the doorway, cloaked in the shadows of night. Please let it be Tristan. Please.
Even as I pleaded, my mind rationalized it was too early for him to have returned. He’d only been gone twenty minutes at most.
And still, disappointment weighed heavy in my heart when a man I didn’t recognize barreled into the warehouse, and he wasn’t alone. Hope kicked up in my chest, only to be crushed a second time. Angelo’s thug shoved the second man roughly inside, sending him sprawling onto the floor.
The hinges on the door squeaked, the wind blowing it open and closed before it slammed shut with a bang.
Although I couldn’t see his face, it was evident the second man had been beaten just shy of unconsciousness. He reeked of booze. Blood stained his white shirt, splattering the material.
He crumbled on the ground a few feet in front of me, and I inched my boots back, not wanting to risk getting blood on them. Did Angelo plan to torture him in front of me? Could I stomach that? Instinct told me intervening would be a bad idea. Would this be Tristan’s fate if he didn’t succeed on whatever errand he’d been sent to do? Would this be my fate? Angelo might have given Tristan his word. He wouldn’t hurt me, but trusting Angelo would be like putting my faith in a politician. He would backstab Tristan without blinking. I knew it. Tristan knew it. Fuck, Angelo knew it.
I’d been amusing to Angelo up to this point. That was my role, and now was not the time to deviate. I’d have to stomach what happened next like a girl who wore iron panties.
Groaning and moaning, the newcomer sloppily tried to sit up. His face was a mess of bruises and blood. One eye was swollen nearly shut, his lip split and bleeding. His clothes were torn, stained with dirt and blood, and he held his side as if he were barely keeping himself upright. He looked like he’d been through hell, and he probably had.
My stomach churned at the sight.
I took a sharp inhale, and his face angled toward me.
Holy. Fuck.
This was an unbelievable nightmare. I couldn’t fathom what I was seeing. I had to be wrong. None of it made sense. This night was like putting together a puzzle with pieces from the wrong box. But even through the swollen mess of a face, I recognized him.
Shaking my head as disbelief lanced through my chest, I whispered, “Preston?”