Chapter 43 Sloane #2
A cop? No fucking way. It can only be that fucking DEA woman, Lowell.
That’s probably why my burner’s been ringing off the hook the whole afternoon.
Rick must have been trying to tell me she was coming.
For a second, I hope these idiots pull the trigger.
But then the figure in front of the car shifts, a slim body falling into silhouette, and I see that I was wrong.
It isn’t Lowell, or any other cop. It’s a doctor.
It’s fucking Sloane.
I rage past the gunmen, shoving them out of the way as I charge toward the gate.
All I can see is her petrified expression, as she freezes, hands outstretched, as if to ward off the bullets with the palms of her fucking hands.
I have to stop when I get to the gate. It’s locked.
I smash my fist into the reinforced steel, roaring so hard I taste blood.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” I can’t even fucking think.
My hand feels like someone just laid into it with a hammer, but the pain doesn’t register.
She shouldn’t be here. I made a plan. Made sure she wouldn’t find herself caught up in all this.
Wouldn’t be in any danger. She. Should. Not.
Be. Here. “What the fuck?” I ask again, this time growling under my breath, trying to get a handle on myself.
Sloane starts shaking, too, her hands falling to her sides.
“They could have shot you,” she whimpers.
Distractedly, I register the row of M16s over my shoulder. Jacob’s dark bulk wades forward through the sea of muzzles and magazines, one eyebrow raised so high it almost hits his receding hairline.
“Someone you know, Zee?”
Oh, fuck, he is pissed. “Yeah.” Think! “This is—this is Naomi. She’s—my plus one.” I face Sloane again, trying to light her on fire with the depths of my anger. “And she should not be here.”
“You’ve never been more correct,” he replies. His voice is free of the alcohol now, just like mine. I’m angry with Sloane. Jacob is furious with me. Funny how intense anger can have that effect “You gave a whore directions to this place?”
Bile churns in my stomach at the title he just gave Sloane. I want to smash my fist into his face, but instead I say, “Sorry, Jake. My mistake. I was supposed to pick her up, remember. She must have come looking for me.”
Jacob shakes his head at me, mouth hanging open. “That was very ill-advised.”
“I know. Apologies, brother. I didn’t think.
” No way he’s buying this. He knows I’m not this completely, utterly, astonishingly stupid.
You don’t give this address to anyone. Especially not some girl you wanna fuck.
You blindfold them and lead them here in the trunk of a fucking car, after driving them in circles to confuse the hell out of them first.
Anton appears over Jacob’s shoulder, nostrils flaring. But Jacob looks like he’s come to some sort of decision. “Get her inside,” he says flatly, staring straight through me. “Bring her to the study, Zeth. It’s only polite that you introduce me to your friend.”
“Jake!”
Jacob preempts Anton’s objection and spins, stabbing his finger into the other man’s chest. “Open the fucking gate, Anton.”
Anton looks like he’s been sucker punched. He does as he’s told, though. As soon as the gate’s open, I shove through and grab Sloane by the arm, pulling her back toward the dusty beast of a car she’s rolled up in.
“I’ll drive her in,” I snap over my shoulder. And then to her, more quietly, “Get in the goddamn car.” She’s white as a sheet, but she opens the door and gets in. I climb in the driver’s side, allowing myself the luxury of slamming my fist against the wheel before I start the engine.
Sloane jumps, gasping. “You need to let me expl—” she begins. I gun the engine so loud it screams. She takes the hint and shuts the hell up.
“I don’t need to let you anything, Sloane.
Listen to me. Listen fucking good. You’re here as my guest to attend a meeting in two days’ time.
You’re a stupid airhead who knows nothing about my business dealings.
You don’t know about Charlie. You don’t know about your sister.
You don’t know about Lacey. The only thing you do know is that you like fucking me.
You got that?” She opens her mouth, indignation flashing in her eyes.
Before she can breathe a word, I drive the car into the compound and slam the thing into park beside the Camaro.
The others haven’t made their way to the car yet, but they’re only a few seconds away.
“I’m fucking serious, Sloane. If you want either of us to get out of this alive, you’ll do as I tell you.”
“I’m not some hook—” she starts.
“No, you’re right. You’re not. A hooker would get paid to be here, and you’re doing it for the thrill alone. If you don’t do this, we’re both fucking dead.”
Her cheeks turn a pasty gray color. “All right.”
I barely get a chance to breathe a sigh of relief.
The doors to the car open from the outside and Jacob stands waiting for me on the driver’s side, mouth drawn into a tight line.
Anton grabs hold of Sloane, fingers digging into her arm as he drags her out of the passenger’s side.
His dirty fucking hands are all over her as she straightens up.
Legs, hips, stomach, arms. He pats her down, palms purposefully grazing her breasts.
A red light descends over my vision. Oh, hell, no, he did not just…
He did!
That.
Is.
Fucking.
It.
I charge around to the other side of the car, finally boiling over.
“You did not just fucking drag that girl out of the car!” I roar.
Anton reaches for his gun, but he doesn’t move quick enough.
My fist makes a satisfying crunch as it impacts with his cheekbone.
Shouts go up all around us as bodies crowd in.
No good, though. Anton drops like a sack of rocks, and I’m on top of him, fists raining down left, right, left, right, hitting him as hard as I can.
I have to keep hitting him. I have to. Hands tear at me, but they don’t do any good. I pummel Anton’s head into the dirt.
“Zeth!” The outraged yell finally stays my hands. Standing next to Sloane, Jacob gapes. “The woman’s fine! You’re gonna kill one of my best men over a fucking bruise?”
“I’ll kill him for daring to breathe the same air as her,” I gasp, chest heaving. “I’ll kill him for looking at her wrong.”
Jacob just shakes his head, astonished. He gestures one of his other men toward Anton. “Get him to the basement.” He turns and walks slowly back inside the villa, leaving Sloane and me alone outside with twelve armed and angry Black Talons.