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A massive, dark shadow passes over the rough cement moments before I see the familiar face come into view. Fear drives me back a couple of steps, but he doesn’t move to enter my elevator. He just stands there with a look of arrogance etched into the creases at the edges of his mouth.
He’s dressed now. Simple black slacks, a black button-down with sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms. No tie.
“Pussy cat,” he drawls out in a smoky voice. When we were upstairs surrounded by his bed and intoxicating scent the tone sounded sexy, even if the name irritated me.
But down here, in a cold basement with nothing but the stench of blood? I think it’s a possibility I am about to find out what the inside of a rolled tarp feels like.
I guess he sees something funny on my face because the lunatic gives a rough laugh that has adrenaline chasing the blood through my veins. And the dark smirk he’s wearing says he’s ready to play a game of cat and mouse.
“I see you can’t keep out of places you have no business being.” He cants his head to the side as if mentally taking my measurements for my grave.
“Ryth.” The other two men acknowledge their friend but don’t look his way. From what I can tell they seem enthralled with the man on his knees and neither of them realizes I’m here.
“Gentlemen,” Ryth says over his shoulder.
“Tell my friend here who you’re after again and make it quick. I have plans for this evening,” one of the men says to the one bleeding.
Silence.
Metal cracks against bone when the one in jeans and a dark T-shirt punctuates his demand with the butt of his gun against his prisoner’s head.
A howl ricochets through the vast open space. Unfortunately for the man in pain no one who gives a damn can hear his agony. A sheet of hair cuts his identity off from view, but whoever he is, odds are this is his last stop.
I might not be able to see his face, but the Celtic knot on the back of his hand is something Wolfe has mentioned before.
“You’re not talking fast enough.” That’s the third man. He’s dressed similarly to Ryth in tailored slacks and a button-down. Only his sleeves are hooked at the wrists with diamond-studded cufflinks.
This whole time Ryth hasn’t moved from his spot in front of the elevator.
“A modern-day dungeon?” I quip, in a low voice. “Really?”
The cock of a gun has my legs turning to stone again. Onyx eyes hook on mine and I’m unable to look away.
“Where else would we take the trash?” He bares white teeth through a humorless smile.
Their prisoner growls and fights until someone slams something into bone again. The butt of a gun against a nose this time? The back of the head? I don’t know. My gaze is held captive by Ryth’s once more.
Why isn’t he coming toward me?
“Talk and you might make it topside again.”
Lies. Even I know that. I don’t know which one said it, but there’s no way they are letting that man or me out of here. Ryth won’t allow it.
His head falls back, and I finally get a glimpse of his face. Pale, taut with pain. High cheekbones and a hard jawline.
He starts talking, throwing his hands up to ward off another blow. “Fine. Fine. Okay! That cock sucker, Wolfe. He’s fucking with what’s mine so I’m here to do the same. I was told I could find his sister here. I’m going to kill all three of you first and then find that bitch just to make him pay for?—”
A rise of adrenaline fills me at the mention of my brother.
A flash of a muzzle and pop of a bullet leaving a chamber cracks through the open space and slams into my ear drums. It’s the only thing that keeps me from plowing through Ryth to get to the man.
“What…wha…What did you do?”
Those onyx eyes narrow on me when my hand goes back to the bank of buttons.
“Come here, pussy cat.”
The blood drains from my face. Pinpricks of fear stab at my face, eyes, and arms. I can’t breathe. Fuck that! Ryth reaches for me, but I shove his hands away.
