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She screams, and the sound cuts right through me. I twist out of the tight hold the dark-haired man has on me and lunge toward Chloe.
But before I can reach her, the man who’s holding her draws his gun in a smooth motion. He points it at my head, and the sound of the safety clicking off makes my footsteps stutter, freezing me in place.
I stare down into the little round hole at the end of the barrel, my pulse jacking up so fast that I’m dizzy with it.
“R-Riley?” Chloe whispers, her voice shaking as bad as my knees are.
I swallow hard, my gaze shifting slowly from the gun to the man holding it. He’s got a jagged scar on the back of his hand, but what catches my eye more than that is the fact that he’s wearing three gold rings spread across his pointer, middle, and ring finger.
Shit.
Those rings scare me almost as much as the weapon in his hand does. Because I know what they mean.
West Point.
“Let her go.” I force the words out, my voice hoarse. “Please. Whatever this is about, we… we’ve got nothing to do with it.”
The dark-haired bastard who grabbed me near the door saunters over, casually pushing the man’s gun down and out of the way.
“Chill, Brett,” he drawls. “No value in damaged merchandise.”
I gasp, air rushing into my lungs like a million tiny daggers. My bones feel like they’ve liquified from a mixture of relief and lingering terror. I’m no longer staring down the barrel of a gun, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe.
“Whatever Frank’s done, it has nothing to do with Chloe and me,” I repeat, turning my attention to the dark-haired one, since he’s obviously in charge. “Let her go.”
He laughs, stepping forward and running a single finger down the neckline of my robe.
“You’re right about one thing,” he says with a hard smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. His finger travels all the way to my navel, and he tugs at the belt holding my robe closed. “Youdon’t have anything to do with this.”
The belt comes undone, and I stiffen, my whole body going tense. I’ve got more on under the robe than I wear when I strip, and he doesn’t even look as it falls open, but I still feel violated.
The man leans in, lowering his voice almost conspiratorially as he adds, “At least, you won’t have anything to do with it if your dear old dad is telling the truth.”
“I am,” Frank blurts, nodding so hard that sweat droplets spray off his chin. “Yeah, Austin, ’course I am. Would I lie to you? I wouldn’t do that. Nuh-uh. Never.”
I belt my robe closed again as soon as this Austin asshole’s attention shifts back to Frank, my hands shaking a little as I do it.
“You sure about that?” Austin asks, his eyes narrowing at Frank. “Because that hasn’t been my experience so far. You’d better not be thinking about going back on our deal now.”
When Frank wipes the handkerchief over his face again, his hand is shaking too.
“I-I’m not, I’m not,” Frank stutters. He points at my sister, who’s gone white as a sheet. “That’s her. That’s my little Chloe. Pretty, right? Just like I said. Just like I promised. Promised and delivered.”
“No,” I whisper, a sick feeling curdling my stomach. “What the fuck are you talking about? No one’s delivering anything.”
Austin ignores me and gives Chloe the same coldly lascivious once-over he just gave me.
“She’ll do,” he says after a minute, which makes Frank let out a sigh of relief and Chloe whimper, turning her big, pleading eyes on me.
“No!” I say louder.
I still don’t know what exactly is happening here, but I know for damn sure whose fault it is. I whirl on Frank, my hands tightening into fists.
“You fucking piece of shit,” I hiss. My nails dig into my palms, but I barely feel it. “Why have you been talking to these gang bangers about Chloe? Why did you bring them here? How could you… why… what…”
I can’t breathe. Can’t get the words out. There’s no air left in the room, and the sick feeling inside me is threatening to suck me under.
“Now, Riley…” Frank starts.
