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“Nate is going to be out in a minute,” I babble. “And he’s armed. Armed and really fucking angry already.”
“Ah.” I feel Lucky nod above my head. “The Baltimore warehouse.”
The door opens, sounds of the party flooding out, and Nate is there.
He pauses, analyzing the situation for a split second before his hand shoots inside his jacket.
“Lucky, you fuckin b—”
But her gun is already back against my head. “Nate, come on,” she chuckles. “Let’s not hurt your pretty wife.”
“Get your fucking hands off her,” he growls.
He’s already striding toward her, but Emma holds him back. “Stop,” she orders him. “She’ll fucking shoot her. You know she will.”
And when I hear the click of the safety, I’m starting to think she doesn’t give a shit about taking me with her, as long as Nate learns to not mess with the Luciano family.
With that knowledge in mind, when she presses her gun harder against my temple, a whimper escapes me.
It’s one of the rare times in my life I believe I might die.
“Let her take me,” I rasp, my voice trembling.
His jaw is so tight, his teeth are bound to break.
“Kayla.” His tone is stern, but there’s nothing I can do to obey him.
“Just let her.”
His nostrils flare as he takes a shaky breath, and I can safely say I’ve never seen him like this. For a man who is always ten moves ahead, in control, seeing him so helpless is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to witness.
“I’ll find you.” His words are barely formed, teeth grating.
“I know,” I whisper, as my throat tightens.
“Cute. Let’s go.” Lucky drags me by the hair as she goes down the stairs, her gun still trained on me.
She takes me to a blacked-out SUV waiting at the bottom of the stairs and forces me inside, following right after me.
I can finally see her properly. She’s wearing a dark gray suit, long red hair falling all the way to her waist. When her green eyes snap to me, I startle back.
There is nothing but death raging in them, and my heart races. She’s got a scar almost shaped like a tear at the corner of her right eye, and it somehow makes her look even more terrifying.
I thought I was a tough girl, but I don’t think I ever imposed this much terror on anyone.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she says as she taps the front seat. The car starts and she turns to me again, her smile chilling. “New York City is a five-hour drive.”
35
NATHAN
Rain - grandson, Jessie Reyez
“I don’t give a shit about your warning, Sam. I’m almost there anyway.”
“We’re going to fucking die,” Emma grunts next to me.
I’m not sure if she’s talking about the speed at which I’m driving, or the fact that she knows we’re about to enter New York City and go straight to the Luciano’s compound.
