Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
MARIA
I slowly make my way around the house, hardly able to believe how realistic they’ve made it look.
This place… it could pass for my home, no problem. I mean, my PhD is even on the wall! There are pictures of my father and me scattered through the house, framed, taken from my social media. Well, some of them. Some of them I know must have come from my father’s home, and I try not to let that thought linger in my mind any longer than it needs to.
I received a call from Rayo last night, giving me instructions to bring the member of the Kings I made contact with out to this address in the suburbs. I didn’t know why they were moving me from the dingy room I’d been locked up in all this time, but I didn’t much care to find out, either. Any reason that would get me out of that place, I would take it.
I left a note at the bar for the guy I’d been with last night. Malo, that’s what the bartender called him, and had to hope he was going to come looking for the cash I’d taken from him last night. I have no idea why he’s walking around with that much money on him, what exactly it might be payment for, but I get the feeling he’ll do anything he can to get it back.
Rayo’s men picked me up earlier this morning and drove me out to this beautiful house in the suburbs that’s been made to look as though it’s my actual home. And, honestly, they’ve done a good job. I wouldn’t have thought twice if I had visited a friend at a place like this. It looks totally believable, and I know that’s exactly how they want it.
It’s so scary to me to know how much time and effort they have put in to making this place pass as a real home. Scary to know how easy it’s been for them to infiltrate my life so completely, find out enough about me that they can make a place that looks as though I actually belong in it. They’ve taken so much from me, but this… this invasion of my privacy and my identity, might be the hardest one to take yet.
I don’t know how long they expect me to stay here, or what exactly they want me to get out of this Malo guy when he arrives. I’ve been trying to ask more questions, trying to get a few more answers as to what’s going on here, but nobody seems willing to talk to me, and that freaks the hell out of me. They want me in the dark about all of this, stuck and unable to do anything other than play by their rules, and they’ll do anything it takes to keep it like that.
I need to know this place like it’s my home by the time Malo gets here, and I’m not sure how much longer I have. I mean, he was pretty out of it last night, and surely he’s going to need some time to sober up first, isn’t he? But he got on that bike right after we fucked and drove off like it was nothing, so maybe it’s not exactly a concern of his. Shit, it’s so hard to navigate my new reality, I’m not even sure where to begin.
He’s going to be pissed, I’m sure of that. But how pissed? What’s he going to do to me? Last night, he seemed pretty open to the idea of being close to me, but that was when he thought he was the one calling the shots. When he realizes that he wasn’t as in-control as he’d thought he was, all of that might change, and I had to admit, I’m scared. I know the Ruthless Kings live up to their name, at least from everything I’ve heard about them, and I really don’t want to find out just how seriously they take their reputation. Not if I can help it.
I perch on the edge of the bed in the room that’s supposed to be my bedroom, staring at the closet. I can see it’s full of my clothes—my old clothes. Nothing like the ones I’ve been forced to wear while I’ve been parading around downtown, trying to get the attention of the kind of men I would have avoided at all costs in any other situation.
I put my head in my hands for a moment, trying to push down the enormity of everything going through my head. I can’t let it get to me. I’ve got to keep myself together, no matter how tempting it might be to let this panic set in.
I roll my shoulders back and rise to my feet, leafing through the clothes. If I can just keep my shit together, keep pushing forward, keep finding a way through this, I’ll make it to the other side. I’ll be back in the lab, back with my father, back doing what I’m actually passionate about, and all of this will be behind me, once and for all. It’ll be like a bad dream, so far removed from my real life I’ll hardly believe it could even have happened.
Suddenly, the sound of an engine draws me out of my thoughts, and I spring to my feet and hurry to the window. Sure enough, a man is drawing up outside the house, the same man from last night. He pulls off his helmet and shakes his curly, dark hair loose, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he scans the area around him.
Fuck, he looks pissed. Really pissed. Not that it should be a surprise to me, really. I stole from him, after all. But there’s nothing of that flirty, cocky, playful guy I’d hooked up with last night. No, this version of Malo is on a warpath, and I know I’m right in his way.
He strides toward the door and bangs on it hard, making me jump. I scramble to answer it, smoothing down my hair, trying to present at least a front that I have some idea of what I’m doing. I open the door slowly, a smile on my face, as though all of this has gone to plan.
“Hi, Malo,” I greet him, and he narrows his eyes at me.
“How do you know my name?” he demands.
“The bartender told me,” I shrug. “You got my note, then?”
“Yeah, I did,” he shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t seem as hammered as he did last night, which is a shame—that’s one of the few things that was going in my favor. Now I’m going to have to deal with him marginally clear-headed.
He barges past me and into the house, looks around, and turns back to me. “Nice place you have here,” he says, voice taut.
“Thanks,” I reply, a little awkward. If only he knew that this wasn’t my real home. If only I could tell him what was really going on here. Maybe he would help me? I know it’s a risk way too great for me to take, spilling the truth to him, but all at once, it feels as though it’s bubbling to the surface, trying to break out of me.
“Tell me… Why the fuck would you need to steal my money if you’ve got a home like this?” he demands, crowding me, pushing his face close to mine I can feel his breath on my face. I can see the fury in his eyes, and my knees start to tremble. I swallow hard, doing my best not to let him see how freaked out I am.
“I wanted to see you again,” I reply, batting my lashes at him. If I can keep up this flirty act maybe he’s not going to take it too badly.
“And that’s the best way you could think to do it?” he demands.
I shrug. “Well, it got you here, didn’t it?” I point out. He lets out a growl of irritation. He’s nothing like the man I saw last night, the man who fucked me and made me come—the man who couldn’t seem to get enough of me, who seemed to want to gorge himself on my body. I can still smell the booze on him, and I wonder if he spent the whole night partying after he left me. It’s a miracle he’s upright at this moment. If I were him, I would be flat-out with a hangover. More proof to feed into my conclusion that he’s a regular user.
“I don’t think you have any idea what kind of trouble you’re walking yourself into,” he warns me through gritted teeth. My toes curl in my shoes. I want to pull away from him, but I can’t, he’s got me backed against the wall, making sure there’s nowhere I can go.
“Maybe I like a little trouble,” I shoot back. I reach up to brush my finger over his jaw. His stubble is rough beneath my fingertips, and for a split second, as he glowers at me, I can feel something brewing between us again. Something… strong, needy. Almost overpowering. Something that’s almost enough for him to forget exactly why he came here in the first place, the trouble I might have caused him.
But then, he twists his face away from my hand, and slams his fist into the wall beside me, making me jump.
“You don’t want the kind of trouble I’m going to bring into your life, trust me,” he snarls, his voice low. I try to grab him, but he’s so angry, it’s almost impossible. I’m not used to dealing with men like this, but I’m going to have to hurry my ass up and grow accustomed to it.
“You sure about that?” I ask, lowering my gaze pointedly to his lips. I’m not sure why, but that seems to push him over the edge. He reaches down to his hip, and all at once, I feel the cold press of a gun against my head.
Everything falls away, the sheer panic getting the better of me. What the fuck? Is that… is that thing real? Of course it is. He’s glaring at me like he’s daring me to fight him on this.
“You’re going to tell me where that fucking money is,” he growls, voice slow and deliberate, as though he’s making sure I get the point he’s trying to make. As though I could miss it.
I swallow hard, and shake my head. “I don’t have it here,” I mutter back. It’s the truth, at least. I don’t have the money in hand. I didn’t think I would need to bring it out here, figuring he would lose interest in it once I switched on the charm. Doesn’t look like I’m going to get so lucky.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and he pushes the barrel against my temple. I close my eyes. This can’t be happening. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to handle this. I feel as though I am going to freak out at any second, my whole body tensing as the adrenalin begins to kick in. Is this what my father must feel when they have him at gunpoint? This terror, this fear, this… this nightmarish sensation, like everything is going to fall apart at any moment? With just one pull of that trigger, this man could end me, and the way he’s looking at me, I think he might.
I have never felt this before in my life, this sensation that’s spiraling through me in this instant. Like everything is about to be torn away from me—like I don’t have a single inch of control over this situation, and this man could take everything from me without a second thought. I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that it wouldn’t be the first time for him, and that scares me, scares me in ways I don’t know if I can put into words.
“Please,” I whisper to him. “I didn’t know how important this was to you. I’m sorry, I really am…”
He shakes his head. “Sorry isn’t going to fix this,” he warns me. “You’re coming with me.”
“What?” I gasp. “No, I-I can’t, I can’t just?—”
“Either you tell me where you stashed that money, or you’re coming with me, right now,” he tells me. His voice is almost eerily calm. A shiver runs down my spine. But there is something at the back of my mind, something that tells me to take him up on this—at least it would get me out of the grasp of the Rosas, right? Away from El Serpiente. These are his enemies, maybe the enemy of my enemy could be my friend?
I hesitate, but then, slowly, I nod. “I’ll go with you,” I breathe.
He eyes me for a moment and then drops the gun, grabbing me roughly by the arm and yanking me toward the door. Is anyone watching the house? I hope not. I just need to put as much distance between myself and this place as possible. As much distance between my captors and myself as I can.
Outside, his bike is waiting. He pushes his gun back into his pants and gestures for me to climb on. I do as I’m told. I don’t want to piss him off, not more than I already have, anyway.
“Hold on to me,” he orders, as he climbs onto the bike. “And don’t even think about trying anything. That clear?”
I nod. “That’s clear,” I reply, too terrified to argue with him. And, with that, we pull away from the house and I throw myself into the midst of whatever is about to hit me next.