Page 26 of Brutal Truths

“Boss wants to see you.”

“Fuck him. Who are you?”

I retreat, angling toward the bathroom, hoping I can make it before they close the distance. If I can lock myself in, even for a few seconds, it might be enough to come up with a plan.

He smiles. “You don’t recognize me?”

It’s nothing like Marty’s. The light that should be there is missing. It’s replaced by a creepy darkness—one that chills me to the bone.

“You’re not Marty.” I take another step back. “So, who the fuck are you?”

“Name’s Marvin, Marty’s evil twin.”

His words, the tone of them, causes a lump to form in my throat.

“Are you scared, princess?” he asks quietly. “You should be.”

We stare each other down. Neither of us willing to blink first.

I hold his gaze, refusing to look away first. Fear is a weapon for men like him. He’ll use it to rattle me. And I’m not about to let him.

The first lesson in how to deal with an arsehole is simple. Don’t flinch first.

And I don’t.

Not until he opens his mouth and sics his Russian dogs on me.

“Maybe it’s time to show her who’s in charge, boys.”

He never breaks eye contact—but he doesn’t have to. The moment the two fuckers behind him zero in on me, I’m forced to shift my focus.

I have no choice. I can’t fight them off if I’m focused on him and not them.

They’re fast and strong.

Hands clamp around each arm, hoisting me into the air. The floor drops away beneath me as I’m being dragged back to the bed.

I scream as loud as I can.

Not that I expect it to do me any good.

This constant jostling makes my head swim. The water I just drank churns in my stomach. I try to hold it down but lose the battle when they toss me on the bed and grab me again to do things I refuse to ponder on.

The acrid taste of bile floods my mouth, burning its way up my throat before I violently vomit all over them.

Their reaction is instantaneous. The tossers drop me too quickly, and my head snaps with the movement, pain flaring as I’m jostled around even more.

Both men yell in Russian, probably about how disgusting it is to be covered in vomit.

Serves them right.

In the doorway, Marvin chuckles as the man who punched me in the garage seizes my throat and yanks me toward him. His arm draws back, and I know exactly what’s coming, but I’m powerless to stop it.

The air crackles with animosity as he clenches his fist, ready to unleash his anger.

A sharp, startling pop cut through the air.

The sound echoes around the room, leaving a profound, heavy silence in its wake as the bullet rips through him, snapping his body sideways. The force spins him off balance before he crashes onto the bed next to me with a sickening thud.