Veins streak across Bane’s forehead before he charges me. My legs groan at the sprint to the other side of the island. I shriek, the tremors in my voice rising an octave. Under any other circumstance, I’d grab a chair to stand on and square up. Judging by the slow death he wants me to experience, flaring in his eyes, it’s safer to get my ass on.
“Bane, stop. You tried to tase me first!” I shout in Italian, shifting left when he moves right. “Your boss will have something to say if you put hands on me. I’m wearing his suit.”
He stills. His eyes drop to the tailored suit free-falling from my body.
“Take me to him.” I shift closer to his figure decorating the stainless steel counter in shadows. “Please.”
The cautious smile I offer defuses Bane’s glare enough for him to grunt. He nods at the door.
“After you,” I say, voice shaky. “I don’t know where to go.”
With another grunt, he moves toward the entrance, giving me his back.
“Sorry about this,” I whisper.
My hand curls around a cast-iron skillet on the stove, and I swing for a home run. The durable pan collides with the back of his shiny head. He tips forward, his temple clipping the edge of the island before he face-plants.
At least he didn’t pee himself.
I step between his outstretched arms and legs to check his pulse. He’s shooting my ass for real once he wakes up.
The times I cackled at Olivia Pope breaking free from her makeshift cell come back to haunt me. She was running for her life, looking like she’d survived a Looney Tunes blast. Now here I am, running for my damn life while on vacation.
Behind the door is a hall of stone and a spiral staircase that I take two steps at a time. The air shifts, filling the long corridor with a stale hint of musk. I frown at the metal doors with matching padlocks along the left side. At the end of the hall is a single door, padlock-free. Maybe it’s an exit…or one of those garages with twelve cars and the keys on a mounted board.
The thought of a cold dungeon with pliers and an embalming kit has me doubling back to the staircase. They probably kill people down there. If Bane is still knocked out, I’ll slip out the front door, assuming no armed guards are around and there’s no iron gate I need to scale.
I struggle to touch my toes without cramping. There’s no way in hell I’m climbing over three flights of stairs, let alone a damn fence with no help.
The door at the top of the staircase creaks.
Shit, shit, shit.
Why can’t I have a normal trip?
“I just wanted sunshine, a beach, some dick, and a few keychains,” I grumble back down the rest of the steps. “The Griswolds went through less!”
My thighs burn in a sprint to the door in the distance. Wealthy people have lots of cars. Lots of cars need somewhere to park. I’ll borrow one and drive it to the authorities. They’ll take the keys and I’ll get my life back.
I squeak at the shouts pelted at my back. “I’m staying in the house for the rest of eternity. Fuck this for real!”
My body wants to roll over and play dead. A cliff could be behind the door I’m running toward, but the unknown is safer than whoever is chasing me.
“I’m not.”Pant.“Going out.”Pant.“Like this.”
I sink low and brace my shoulder for impact.
The door tosses me on my ass.
“Ouch.” I wince at the fire spreading across my tailbone.
Plan B.
I crawl on, my hands and knees cussing at me in common sense. Cold metal glides between my fingertips as I grip the handle and turn. I flip over and meet six pairs of eyes in a room of brick and steel.
Crimson streaks cross polished concrete in thick, angry strokes. I swallow a sharp inhale of disinfectant, searing my chest under Benny’s glare. It hardens, tightening the jaw I gripped to ride each of his thrusts.
He stands in the middle of five men, his shoulders low in an all-black suit. The edges are rolled up to his forearms, inked in tattoos and the same crimson from the floor.
