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“We really didn’t want to do this the hard way,” he says. “Your father will probably want you alive, but does it have to be in one piece?”
I was right. They aren’t working for Daddy. If they were, they wouldn’t threaten physical harm.
I lash out again, for all the good it does, but my only other option is to make a scene. I have nothing to lose now. If I can get someone to pay attention… I try to give my head a good shake, to send the baseball cap to the ground and let my hair fall free and make it perfectly clear two men are assaulting a woman, but it doesn’t go anywhere.
There’s no crowd outside the train station, and it’s quiet.
It’s surreal, knowing that there are people who could be my saviors so close, but they’re so far away they might as well not exist at all.
And really, would anyone interfere?
I have to try.
The cuffs dig into my wrists, but I strain against them anyway, out of instinct more than anything.
“Help me!” I scream, but no one seems to hear me.
Or maybe they just don’t care.
But then I hear a third man approaching. “Hey!” His voice is sharp, and I look up to see a man in a security uniform.
Thank fuck.
I’m going to get out of this in one piece. I should’ve just tried to get help on the fucking train, but I hadn’t been willing to put anyone else in danger. This time? It’s only me and two thugs, with no one else around.
“What’s going on here?” He has something in his hands that doesn’t look like a gun. A taser, maybe?
I’m sure both of the guys on me are armed to the teeth, but will they really risk some sort of incident outside of a train station?
Thatfucking badgeglints in the light as the tall, dark-featured asshole flashes it. “Apprehending a runaway, sir.”
“No, he isn’t,” I say, still struggling against them. “That’s not real. He’s not really a cop.”
The security guard hesitates, obviously trying to figure out who to believe. My life is in his hands, and he doesn’t even know it.
Well, maybe not my life—they won’t kill me, not if they want to use me against Daddy, but my well-being. Like he said before, they didn’t need me in one piece.
Fucking mobsters. They always have to be so goddamn melodramatic.
The other guy holds up a similar badge, and I want to groan. This has to be a joke.
Besides, there’s no way the security guard will believe that a man with a ring through his nose and a bar through his eyebrow could possibly be a cop. He’d have to be utterly stupid not to see through this charade now.
“Sorry for the scene, sir,” the blond says with a smile that would be charming if it didn’t belong to someone trying to kidnap me. “We’re just taking her down to the station so her daddy can pick her up.”
I shake my head, but again, my disguise works against me. I really do look like a runaway, and without makeup and the usual grace I can’t exactly display given the situation, I don’t look like a grown woman either.
Who says looking ageless was a good thing?
The security guard hesitates, and I see it when he decides to back off. He tucks the taser back away, and he takes a step back. “Sorry for interfering, officers. But you understand.”
I want to fucking scream. “If they were officers, don’t you think they’d be wearing uniforms?” I demand. “I’m not a runaway!” Except my voice cracks a little, because in the end, I guess Iama runaway.
In a way, I’m surprised that the guys with me have only pulled fake badges instead of guns, but I guess this is more of a scene than they even wanted. My father’s people will be around here asking questions, and it’ll be far harder to figure out that I had a run-in with a security guard than it would be if there was a shoot-out.
Then I feel it.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly has managed to place the barrel of a gun against the small of my back, right against my spine, and he whispers, “Is this really how you want to play this, Ms. Bellini? With the blood of a stranger onyourhands? This is loaded, and I can shoot him before he even blinks.”
