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A wave of unease washed over me. I felt dizzy and the color drain from my face as my heart fell to my feet.
"The Flask" was not just any bar.
“That’s a mobster hangout,” Davis said in his first text back to me.
“Why?” Was the second.
“You OK?” Was the third.
Were my suspicions right all along?
My mind raced, questioning the choices I had made and the risks I had stupidly taken. Why hadn’t I made damn sure before having sex with him again?
The line between desire and danger blurred at that moment. I’d been weak.
Uncertainty gripped me, mingling with a sense of betrayal. How could I have fallen into the arms of a man entangled in a web like this? Questions and doubts swirled within me, demanding answers I wasn’t sure I was ready to even face.
“I need to get going,” I said faintly, my face drained of color from shock. I did my best to play it off. “I think those gentlemen might know what transpired, and I can’t sit here and drink knowing that.”
But as soon as I went to grab my bag, I watched darkness dance over Luca’s face, and a force slammed into me from behind.
I whipped my head around to see a large, burly man. He was grabbing me forcefully from behind.
I screamed, the other patrons in the bar unfazed as he hoisted me over his shoulder. I clawed and kicked and fought as a wave of shock and alarm engulfed me. My instincts kicking in, I desperately tried to break free.
I was unarmed.
Stupidly so.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to fight to the death.
It was no use; the man held me firmly, rendering me limp in his arms.
I shot a look at Luca, as the gorilla of a man held onto me tightly. A mix of surprise and betrayal must have been etched on my face. How could this man have sex with me and then take me hostage?!
Whywas he taking me hostage?!
The tension in the air was thick as the man I’d just been intimate with stepped closer, his eyes scanning me with a cold, dominating intensity.
He patted me down, searching for concealed weapons or hidden surprises. I scoffed. “We just had sex, you asshole,” I growled. “Wouldn’t you have found it!?”
The touch was intrusive and invasive, more about power than finding anything. I knew that.
I knew his kind.
“What the hell is this?!” I screamed, playing dumb.
How did he know I was a cop?
“No gun on you at all?” he asked, his brow raised. His tone was soft and calculated.
Eerily so.
“If I find one, I’ll shoot you with it,” he warned with a harsh whisper.
I spit on him.
“Fuck you!” I growled.
