Faster, faster.
My feet pound against the cement. There’s a road with cars driving down it. If I reach it, I can try to flag one of them down. Maybe someone will stop. I’ll throw myself into the middle of traffic if I have to. I’ll—
Something collides against my back.
I land on my elbows, my long-sleeved sweater ripping against the rough concrete.
Rough hands turn me over, a weight lands on my belly, and then there’s a hard slap against my cheek.
I start crying. It’s instinctive.
“You stupid girl,” Uncle Lyle seethes, his spittle landing on my face. “Didn’t I tell you to behave?”
“Why are you doing this?” I plead through my tears.
He hauls me up, his palm wrapped around my arm like an iron coil. “Shut up.”
“What do you want with Rowan?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he mutters. “You fucking know who he is.”
One of the other Iron Raptors comes over, looking at me with contempt while he hands Uncle Lyle a key. The thought of being locked inside a room with Uncle Lyle weakens my knees, but he just drags me along and pushes me inside one of the units.
The door slams shut behind us.
Another sharp slap lands against my stinging cheek. “Don’t ever do that again.”
I cradle my burning flesh, blinking at him through my tears. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Whoever you think Rowan is, you’re wrong.”
Uncle Lyle rears his hand back again.
I raise my arms to protect myself. “No, please!”
He stops, hand in the air. Realization flashes in his eyes. “You really don’t know who Rowan is?”
I shake my head.
He stares at me for a long moment, and then he starts to laugh. It’s cruel and ugly, and it makes me so fucking scared.
Dread fills my stomach, thick and heavy. I take deep breaths, trying to calm down. I won’t get anywhere if I keep acting out of panic.
“You stupid girl,” he says through his laughter. “He pulled one on you.” His eyes darken. “This is exactly why you’re going to stay with me from now on. You can’t take care of yourself, can you? You’ve been sleeping with a New York gangster for the last few weeks, and you had no idea?”
A New York gangster?
Brett’s office. Those photos. I’d forgotten about them in all the chaos, but they come back to me now. “What?”
“He was high up. And he’s got quite the reputation.” Uncle Lyle’s sick smile disappears. For a split second, I think I see a hint of fear in his eyes. “They call him the Angel of Death.”
I blink at him. “You’re lying.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you see us hand him over to the people who are going to pay us a lot of money for finding him. He’s got a big bounty on him.”
“Who wants him?”
“The Ferraro family. You ever heard of 'em?”
I shake my head.
