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“No, please, don’t do this. Don’t make me leave you,” I begged. I sounded weak, even to my own ears, but I was all out of fucks to give.
“Jade. Go.” His jaw was clenched, his tone final and unforgiving. This wasn’t Cole. This was Slaughterhouse Savage. I knew not to argue, but I wasn’t scared of him. I knew my beast would always protect me. I reached up on my tippy toes and pressed my lips to his scruffy neck. I had the overwhelming urge to tell him I loved him, and the thought shocked me more than anything that went down that night, and that said a lot, considering I’d been fucked by a bottle and kidnapped by my ex in the very same night.
At the sight of me kissing Cole, Stefano somehow found the strength to run toward us with a roar. Cole pushed me behind his back, and that was enough to send me bolting in the opposite direction, my bare feet slapping against the hard floor, Cole’s shirt the only thing on my body. Once I turned down the hall, I heard yet another shot. I skidded to a stop and went to run back in, but I was yanked backwards by my hair, and something hard pressed against my temple.
“Careful, Bambina. Wouldn’t want my finger to slip and pull the trigger. Your boyfriends over there wouldn’t be too happy about that, would they?”
I didn’t answer, just gritted my teeth and tried to stay perfectly still. I was getting real sick of being threatened. I didn’t even know who the fuck this guy was, hadn’t even gotten a look at him, but I had a sneaky suspicion that he was the head honcho.
He led me back into the room, one hand over my mouth, and the other still holding a gun to my head. Cole was standing over Stefano with his foot on his chest and had a gun pointed at his head. If I never saw another gun in my life, it would be too soon. Mystery Man jammed his weapon further into my skull, causing me to cry out, earning Cole’s attention.
“Let. Her. Fucking. Go.” Cole didn’t look afraid, but I could see his pulse jumping wildly in his neck.
“You first, friend. Why shouldn’t I kill her right here and now? You and your men killed mine. Every single one of them, save for that sorry bastard on the ground.”
“Everyone knows you don’t go after women and children, Lucky. That’s punk shit.”
Lucky. As in the Lucky Luciano. Awesome. I felt him shrug behind me. “I do what I need to do to get the results I want. No one is off-limits, including this pretty little thing.”
I could tell Cole was trying hard to keep his temper under control by the way he inhaled through his nose and squeezed his eyes shut tight before responding. “Let her go right now, and you and I can settle this. Just let her leave.”
“Sorry. No can do. Release him first, and I’ll think about letting her live.”
“Now, now, gentlemen. There’s no reason we can’t come to some sort of agreement, now, is there?” Graham’s voice echoed throughout the building, but I couldn’t see him.
“You steal my containers, you kill my men, and you think you’re in any position to negotiate?!” His harsh laughter in my ear made me jump.
“I have a proposition for you that I think you’ll be very interested in.” Graham’s voice sounded aloof, almost bored even. This motherfucker was made of ice. He moved into my line of sight, successfully shielding Cole from his view.
“I’m listening.”
“Let the girl go, and we’ll discuss. This is the men’s business. Women have no place in such dealings.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, but realized that it was his way of getting me out of there, and now was not the time to start burning my bra.
Not that I even had one to burn at the moment.
Lucky’s gun moved from my head to Graham’s, and he released me.
“So help me God, if you even so much as sneeze in my direction, I won’t hesitate to blow your fucking head off. But I won’t stop there. I’ll kill your little wife, too. Now, start talking.”
Graham jerked his head, motioning for me to get the fuck out of Dodge. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I flew out of there like a bat out of hell with Cole’s white V-neck swishing around my thighs. I busted out the back door, straight into another pair of arms.
Not again.
“You Cole’s bird? Easy now, luv. I got you.” He had an Irish accent, even thicker than Carter’s, and I was thanking my lucky stars that it wasn’t an Italian one. I looked up into the scariest pair of ice blue eyes I had ever seen. He was tall, pale, hair the color of obsidian. His features were harsh, but beautiful. He seemed elegant, regal almost, but also cold and lethal. This man was a walking contradiction.
“Who the fuck are you?” I snapped, ready for the night to be over already.
He took a step back and released my shoulders.
“Name’s Sinclair. You can call me Sin. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Hell no.”
His lip twitched in response.
There was a group of young men behind him, and holy fuck, I was pretty sure there were strict rules to being a part of their little club. Rule number one: Must be drop-dead gorgeous. Rule number two: Must be above six feet tall. Rule number three: Must be a badass.
