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“Aaaagh!” he screeches, grabbing at his crotch while doubling over in pain.
“Eeee!” screams the other as he grabs his face futilely, blood spurting between his hands. That leaves only one man left. I tackle him and push him to the ground, our limbs tangling in the small space. Desperately, I try to wrench the box from his hands. The box is controlling this elevator, and I need to go up and out, not down to wherever we’re headed.
“Which button gets us out of this hellhole?” I scream, my face red with fear and exertion. But I’m not waiting for an answer, because taking advantage of the situation, I knee him in the groin before reaching one hand down to grab his balls and twist. His face goes white, then purple, and he lets out a burble of pain.
“Eeeef!” is his high-pitched squeak. “Fuuuuck!”
“Out!” I scream again. “I have to get out!”
I snatch the box from his hands and begin pressing every button on the surface. One of these has to do something. But it’s too late because the elevator’s already grinding to a halt, and I scramble to my feet. My three captors are lying on the floor, howling and groaning in pain as they clutch various body parts. I’m ready to attack whoever shows their face once this door slides open.
But when the doors finally hiss open, the man standing on the other side makes me go still with shock. He’s gorgeous and huge, dressed in an immaculate black suit with a white button-down underneath. He’s got coal-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and cheekbones that could cut glass. He definitely doesn’t look like the type to mix with the men who just kidnapped me.
And evidently, the sight that greets him isn’t what he expected either. One black eyebrow raises as he takes in my curvy, panting form holding the controller as the three lowlifes grunt and moan with pain on the ground.
“Well, well, well,” the tall man remarks. “Looks like she got the best of you, huh fellas? Come on in, Gemma. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Oh my god. How does this man know my name? How does he know what happened? I stare into his amused gaze and swallow. Somehow, with this man, I know I’m in more danger than ever before.
Chapter 5
Pete
When the door slides open, I almost double over in laughter. I always knew the Whatnot Crew was lame, but I didn’t realize they’d be this incompetent. The girl they have with them can’t be more than five five, with brown curls and a shapely figure. Meanwhile, they’re a criminal gang. They couldn’t handle her? Really?
But my eyes don’t lie. Tommy, JC and Greenboy are writhing on the ground right now, moaning their agony. There’s blood spattered everywhere and to my amusement, Tommy and Greenboy look like they got kicked in the nuts. Serves them right. If a woman does this to you, you probably deserved it. Especially since it was clearly three on one in the elevator, and yet she got the best of them.
“You didn’t tie her up?” I ask my men rhetorically. “Shit, how stupid can you be?”
“Boss,” gasps JC. “We did tie her up. She must have slipped the bonds.”
Sure enough, on the floor of the elevator is a raggedy old handkerchief, twisted and gnarled.
“You tied her up with a handkerchief. Shit, my dog could have escaped from that,” I say in disgust. Clearly, the Billionaires Club can’t be doing business with the Whatnot Crew anymore. They’re just too dumb and incompetent, with not one iota of common sense. It’s crazy, I tell you. We’re not expecting people with college degrees, but we are expecting guys who know the basics about doing our dirty work. Shit. I’m going to have to terminate their contract.
“Come on,” I say shortly. “Get up. Get out of here. I don’t need to see your ugly mugs.”
By now, Tommy, JC and Greenboy have managed to struggle to their feet and are about to limp out of the elevator. But I stop them, throwing one arm across the entrance.
“Did you hear me?” I repeat roughly. “Get out of here. Your work for the Billionaires Club is over. I’ll contact you about payment for this last job even though it was completely botched.”
JC’s face goes pale.
“I swear, it wasn’t us,” he whines. “It was them. The Silver Star was better protected than we anticipated, and then Greenboy shot that fat manager, and they said we’d get Murder One if the manager died! He was bleeding so much, so we had to take him to the hospital! Oh god, it wasn’t me, Mr. Carmichael, I swear!”
I can’t believe he’s babbling, and to be honest, shit like this really gets me because I hate when people don’t take responsibility for their actions. It’s something that’s bothered me ever since I was a kid. Despite being a billionaire now, I wasn’t born to the manor. Hardly. I was raised in the hood, struggling to earn street cred, and one of the first lessons drilled into my psyche when I was twelve or so was that you have to own up to what’s happened. The buck stops with you. No one likes a whiner, especially the guys who make their living on the street.
