Sneak Peek - The Boss
Men of Hidden Justice
I raced along the street, tears streaming down my cheeks. The salt stung the abrasions, but I didn’t stop to wipe them away. I had to get away—as far away as possible. My head ached from the blow I had taken earlier, and my legs were tired from running, but I kept going.
I stuck to the shadows, pulling my jacket around me, burying my face into my scarf. My pocket contained the only thing I had grabbed before I fled. My small wallet and the five hundred dollars I had snuck from his jacket. I had nothing else with me.
A busy intersection was coming up ahead of me.
I didn’t want to take the chance of being seen under the bright lights.
Having no other choice, I cut down a dark alley.
The exact kind of alley a girl was warned to avoid all her life.
But, at that point, it didn’t matter anymore.
If someone grabbed me, they couldn’t do any worse than he had.
If I stayed, I was dead, and I had decided I would rather die running than stay and let him finish me off.
I heard shouts, and my chest tightened. I started to run faster, not caring where I was headed. I ran until I was breathless, from alley to alley, until there were no sounds except my muffled heartbeats.
Leaning against a crumbling brick wall, I tried to catch my breath and let my heart slow down.
My vision was clouded, and I had to blink several times to clear it.
I tucked my trembling hands under my arms, unsure if I was shaking from the cold or fear.
I looked around, no clue where I had ended up.
I peeked around the corner at the deserted streets.
The neighborhood was industrial, the buildings a mixture of run-down businesses and closed, boarded-up warehouses.
I inhaled a shaky breath, pushing my hair off my face.
I winced when my fingers met my forehead, and drawing them back, I saw they were wet with blood.
More tears ran down my face. Unsure what to do, I began to walk, trying to gather my thoughts.
I couldn’t go to a hotel since a credit card would be required.
He would trace it. I needed a cheap motel that would take cash and ask no questions.
I glanced around—it was the sort of area I might find one, but it had to be soon.
My legs began to shake, and the pain in my head increased.
I didn’t want to risk being out in the open any longer than I had to be.
A car drove by slowly, and my panic returned.
It wasn’t him, but the sight of it unnerved me, the speed making me wary.
I slowed my footsteps, and when the car stopped a few blocks ahead and sat with the engine running, my heart stuttered.
There was a narrow break between the buildings, and taking advantage of the sudden escape route, I slipped between them.
It was dark, and I used my hand to trace along the wall.
I encountered a door handle, and when it turned, I was shocked that it worked.
The door creaked in the small passage. I could hear the car that had frightened me coming back, and quickly, I slipped through the door, shutting it behind me.
The air was damp and musty, with mildew and dust tickling my nose.
I was shrouded in darkness and eerie silence.
I could hear voices outside. Fumbling, I found the lock on the door and pressed it.
I held my breath, my panic ramping higher as the voices came closer.
The handle jiggled, the lock preventing it from opening.
I prayed it would hold, my gaze locked on the dull metal.
“Are you sure she came down here?”
“I thought so. Fuck, who cares, man. We can find another piece of tail.”
The voices drifted away, and the car drove off, the sound of the engine fading away.
I shuddered, holding my throbbing head. They weren’t looking for me, specifically, but I was still grateful for the door I had found.
Relief made me even weaker, and for a moment, I had to lean on the damp wall, trying to summon my waning strength.
A few moments passed, and I knew I had to decide what to do now. Leave the way I came in and keep walking aimlessly, or explore what might be a place I could sit and rest for a while and figure out my next move—as limited as my choices were.
Cautiously, I walked forward, coming to another closed door.
The shaking in my legs was getting worse, and I hoped to find a place to sit aside from the floor.
I wasn’t sure I would be able to get up if that was where I ended up.
I pushed the door open, peeking around the edge, then entered a large room.
From what I could see from the partially boarded-up windows, I was in a deserted warehouse.
The dim light helped, and I investigated until I found a glassed-in office that contained some old furniture.
Some of the panes were still intact, and they were thick with grime.
The rest of the panels lay in shards on the floor.
I carefully skirted the glass and sat down behind a timeworn desk.
The chair was hard, cold, and damp, but it was big enough for me to curl up in.
I drew up my shaking legs, wrapped my arms around my knees, and rested my head on them.
I drew in a quivering breath, the feeling of gratefulness for a deserted building and a rickety old chair overwhelming me.
The damp, musty smell invaded my senses, the lingering decay reminding me of the basement closet Blaine liked to lock me in on occasion.
The tears restarted, and I let them flow. My sobs were choked and deep, and the ache in my head intensified. My body was a mass of quivering limbs as the last of the adrenaline rush I had been experiencing evaporated, leaving me spent.
How had my life come to this?
The blackness began to gather, and I fought it. I had a feeling if I succumbed, I wouldn’t wake up. But it was useless, and gradually, the world dimmed.
I swam to consciousness, my head spinning.
I was nauseated and cold, my limbs stiff and painful.
I didn’t move but stared through the dirty glass, confused.
The large room I had wandered through before was lit up, and a group of men stood with their backs toward me, arguing.
They flung their arms around, gestured with their hands, and their voices were angry.
Carefully, I eased the chair back as far as I could into the shadows.
The little office I was in was still dark, and I didn’t think they could see me, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
One of the missing glass panes was at eye level, and from this angle, I had a clear view of them.
Alarm ran along my nerves, telling me I needed to stay silent.
Whatever they were doing here was not something I should be seeing.
There were four tall men, all in black coats. One of them towered over the rest. They moved, and I saw another two people. They were sitting on the floor, beaten and bleeding, tied with their backs pressed together.
I shrank back, my terror taking on new proportions.
My teeth began to chatter, and I slapped my hand over my mouth to silence the noise.
I had to bite down on my lip as well, and I wrapped my free arm around my knees to try to stop the tremors.
I heard the loud slam of a door, and another man strode into the room.
He was tall, slender, with broad shoulders, his black overcoat long and swaying around him as he walked.
He moved with intent, his shoulders taut, his stride fast. His deep brown hair was long, brushing his collar and slicked off his forehead.
His face was sharp angles, a tight beard hugging the curves of his face, framing his mouth.
His gaze was intense and furious. He commanded the notice of all the men in the room.
They stood taller, their shoulders back—almost at attention.
They moved to form a wide circle around the people on the floor.
He joined them, sneering at the men who were tied up and helpless.
He was facing me, his hatred a living, breathing entity emanating from him.
A barrage of words in a language I didn’t understand came from his mouth.
He raged, his voice echoing in the empty room.
More than once, he slapped the helpless prisoners, screaming in their faces.
His leather gloves shone in the dim light, blood-red against black, wet and dripping.
My stomach lurched at the sight of it, and I pressed my hand harder to my lips.
He stepped back, his face dark, evil, and twisted. He was like an avenging angel—straight from hell. He held out his hand, and one of the men placed a gun in it.
He stared, cold and ruthless, then he nodded. The group of men drew their guns and aimed.
I pressed my hand over my mouth so hard, I felt my lip split trying to hold in my scream, knowing what I was about to witness and unable to look away.
“Burn in hell,” he spat.
Gunshots rang out.
The men on the floor jerked, their bodies arched and flailed, then slumped. Blood ran, crimson and thick.
I couldn’t control myself. I twitched so hard, the chair moved, hitting the wall with a low thump.
I lurched forward, emptying the meager contents of my stomach onto the floor, panting and gasping for air.
I grasped the arms of the chair so hard, my knuckles protested.
My head swam from the sudden movement. I heard more cursing and rushed footsteps in my direction, but I knew I was trapped.
“What the fuck?” a low voice growled as rough hands gripped my arms, forcing me upright.
I looked up, meeting a pair of brown eyes. They widened then narrowed, brimming with fury. Up close, his face was beautiful—the sort of beauty that easily distorted into fierce malevolence. A devil in disguise.
“Who the fuck are you?”
His face wavered in my gaze. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. It tilted, becoming dim and distorted.
“No one,” I whispered, before the world went dark.
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