2. Kennedy
“Y-you?”I stammer, recognizing the man. Same greasy, disheveled gray hair. Same unlit cigarette behind one ear, which is just disgusting.
I”d managed to wrestle my hands free from the thick, knotted ropes, only to find myself trapped in a trunk, surrounded by the deafening sound of my own pulse and a riptide of fear and hopelessness.
Shivering, I tightened Enzo’s blazer around me. In the darkness, it was easy to breathe him in—his cologne and expensive cigars—and somehow draw strength from him.
I’d almost convinced myself I was ready for anything, steeling myself for what was to come.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared me for this.
Clive Weston. Owner of Weston’s Dance Academy. Or, former owner, according to his soon-to-be ex-wife.
He leers at my half-naked body as I scramble to get Enzo’s blazer over every exposed inch of my skin.
“Shy?” He chuckles, reaching out to touch my hair as I whip away. “No need to be, sweetheart. I’ve seen all of that whore body of yours.”
This time, he grabs me by the hair as I recoil, cowering further into the cramped space—trapped. I’d rather die than let this man lay a hand on me.
I cry out. “What do you want?”
“Me?” Clive asks, yanking me up and licking his disgusting lips. “I don’t want a thing.”
Out of nowhere, footsteps crunch from just out of sight. My pulse freezes.
“She’s all yours, Mr. Rocco.”
Dread tightens my chest as a man emerges from the trees. I know him too, and prayed I’d never see him again.
It’s him—the thug from the bar. The man who was seconds away from raping me and nearly shattered my hand.
I escaped him once. But Truffles isn’t here this time.
“Surprised to see me, cunt?”
His dark, bottomless eyes are strained red, and by the looks in them, he’s high, pissed, and about to pick up where he left off.
Frantic for an escape, I dart a glance around. Shit. We’re alone. In the woods. Presumably miles from where anyone will hear my screams.
The only thing that would make this any worse is creepy music, duct tape, and a sacrificial altar.
“Where’d you find her?” he asks Clive.
“D’Angelo’s club. Dante’s Inferno. She was spreading her legs real good for Enzo.”
The fact that Clive Weston watched Enzo lick me to heaven shoves bile up my throat. I have to fight the urge to gag, and swallow hard.
Panic claws at me as Rocco undoes his belt, and tears burn my eyes. He can’t do this. Please, God, don’t let him do this.
He’s three times my size and strong—so goddamned strong. I learned that from our encounter in the alley. Fuck, what do I do?
“You can go,” he snarls to Clive, but he’s so close to me, the stench of rotting eggs and booze nearly knocks me out.
Before he unzips, Clive steps between us, shoving him back with a fierce glare. I almost mistake his move for sanity until he says, “My money first, Rocco. Then you fuck the girl.”
Rocco laughs. “What are you, her pimp?”
Clive lunges forward, throwing his weight at him. “Give me my money.”
But with a single hand, Rocco shoves him to the ground. “You got this car.”
“It’s broke,” he complains, pointing out the busted taillight. “And that wasn’t the deal. You promised me twenty grand,” Clive argues, his voice trembling, outraged.
“Be smart, Clive. Just walk away.”
Clive is many things, but smart isn’t one of them. Despite the fact he’s a foot shorter than Rocco and has the physique of a janitor, he attacks, arms flailing.
Rocco smashes the bottle of Jack on the car, shards flying everywhere. In one swift move, he slices Clive’s cheek, the broken end now a lethal weapon at his neck. “D’Angelo may have beaten you up over this girl, but you fuck with me, and I’ll kill you.”
My mind scrambles to process what I just heard. Enzo had Clive beaten up?
For me?
As much as I’d like to luxuriate in that visual a little longer, I can’t. Hands up in surrender, Clive retreats, which I’m not sure is a good thing or a bad thing.
It leaves just me with the deranged man licking his lips. Which is a very bad thing.
High on drugs and rage, Rocco seizes my arm. I screech, terror shooting through every part of me as he drags me against his body. “That’s it. Scream for me.” Tears burn down my face as he slides a hand through my legs.
Then, I hear a sharp crack.
Rocco stops. Staggering backward, his eyes slam shut as he clutches his head. A trail of fresh blood seeps down his face, but his grip tightens like a vise on my leg.
Fueled by adrenaline, I kick his jaw so hard, he’s on the ground.
My relief is short-lived when I see Clive panting, a boulder the size of a bowling ball in his hands. His breaths are labored as he clutches his ribs and struggles for air.
I’m not sure if he has asthma or what, but outrunning him might be an option...as soon as I’m out of this trunk.
Huffing, he fixes me with a cold stare and cages me in. “Fine. If Rocco won’t pay, I’ll sell you to Andre. You should fetch a pretty penny, considering you’re Enzo’s girl.”
Enzo’s girl?
Images of Enzo flash through my mind like fireworks—his dark features and golden eyes etched against the backdrop of scotch and cigar smoke.
The only man who’s ever made me feel alive.
But then, that image fades, replaced by the twinkling eyes and undying spirit of my father. His voice sweeps through my thoughts, blustering with full-throttle Scottish strength.
“When your back’s to the wall, darlin’, ya fight.”
I fight.
I don’t think. I act.
A cry erupts from my throat as I unleash a barrage of swift kicks. I aim for Clive’s face, but I take what I can get—his gut, his chest, his jaw—until finally, he crumples to the ground like wet paper.
I leap from the trunk and scramble to the driver’s seat. Shit. No keys.
Desperation and panic grip me as I frantically search the car, then rush back to Clive, scouring his jacket and jeans pockets.
Nothing.
The angry moan of Rocco pierces the air as he starts to stir, groaning. His hand reaches into his pocket, and my heart races as I realize he’s going for a gun.
And I run.
Fear sets my direction. Without knowing where I am or which way to go, I bolt through the dark, blind.
Pain slices through every step, my bare feet pounding against sharp pebbles and twigs.
I need to hide. Now. Ignoring that unsettled feeling of running in circles and getting nowhere, my feet don’t stop.
Then the earth slides out from under me as my body crashes down a hill, slipping against wet moss and twigs. I plunge into the darkness until I plow, full force, into a log.
“Argh!” I smother my mouth, my breaths coming out in loud, ragged gasps.
A sharp crack hits the air—a gunshot. And in that moment, reality crashes down on me like a ton of bricks. If I make the wrong move, if I make even the slightest sound, I’m dead.
“Don’t make me chase you!” Rocco’s shouts. His voice is close. Too close. Footsteps crunch as if they’re all around, and I stay painfully still as something slithers against my leg.
“You’re only making it worse on yourself,” he growls.
He’s practically on top of me now. I clamp down on my whimpers, sinking my teeth into my cheek until I taste blood. Any movement, any sound, and I’m dead. Or worse.
And if I don’t?
The footsteps move on, then circle back. Once. Twice. Numb with adrenaline before, I didn’t feel the pain, but now it crashes over me like a tidal wave. Cold seeps into my bones, making my teeth chatter and my strength worthless.
A cold trail of sweat breaks out along my nape as the footsteps make another pass.
’m terrified. I just escaped the nightmare of those two bastards, and getting caught again isn’t an option. Even if they let me live, the things they’ll do to me...
They’ll make me wish I was dead. I know they will.
The chances of getting out of this and seeing Riley, my only sister, or Truffles, my newfound dog, are slim to none.
And then there’s Enzo, and whatever the hell he is to me. He’s the most hopeless of hopeless causes. So why is my stupid mind clinging to the hard features of his face?
Somehow, it gives me the strength to force my body to kneel, then crawl, making my way painfully slow up the hill.
A branch snaps under my weight, and a rush of footsteps zeroes in on my position. Tears prick the back of my eyes.
The thought that Riley will lose her father and sister and be all alone eats me alive. It’s unbearable.
“Keep your word, Enzo,” I murmur softly. “Take care of Riley.”