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“Now why would I do that? Let you go?”
“There’s no reason to keep us here. How much and I’ll pay.”
“One hundred grand.”
The blood drains, and my head spins a little. I don’t have that kind of money.
“So, we’ll go and get it.”
“You haven’t got it.” The man spits. “It’s all over your face. Besides, why would I let a fuckin’ tasty thing like you go?”
“The goodness of your heart?”
He looks at the others, and they all laugh. While I try and keep it together.
The man approaches, hooks a finger in my PJ top, and pulls it open, taking a good look. “Nice set of tits on you. Drink your drink. You’re gonna be our entertainment, and your nephew’s gonna learn a few fuckin’ things. So, drink, it’ll be more pleasant that way.”
Everything in me is shock-cold and numb.
He’s put something in my drink. And they’re . . . they’re . . .
I glance at Jay and then I throw the drink in the man’s face.
“Run!” I grab Jay and make a run for it.
The music stops. Someone grabs me, and I fall. I’m pulled up by my hair and a gun is shoved in my face.
ChapterNine
DIEGO
“I wouldn’t,” I say to the skinny, balding guy who’s holding the gun. “Not if you want to fuckin’live.”
My voice is cool, almost bored, and my weapon in easy reach, but I need to get a lay of the land here first. The ass at the door wasn’t going to let me in, but a conversation with his teeth and my fist changed his mind.
At least, I think it changed his mind. He wasn’t exactly speaking when I came in or conscious.
There are one too many people in here, and two of those are the ones I need to get the fuck out of here.
Jay’s being held in place by a woman whose clothes are about five sizes too small, and the one I’ve pegged as the ringleader, standing behind Nadia, is I think, the one who’ll be the most trouble. I can take him but there are five other guys who are ready to step in and defend.
Then, of course, there’s baldy with the gun in Nadia’s face.
He’s going to die for that fucking move.
She’s shaking and trying not to, and I’m betting her biggest fear is for her little shithead of a nephew.
Who is just a fucking kid. Too skinny, closer to a boy than a man still. But fuck me, he sure knows how to cause trouble.
Gun guy isn’t too versed in guns. It’s in how he’s standing, holding it, the whiteness setting in around his fingers from the too-tight grip.
Of course, that means fuck all if he pulls the trigger, but . . .
I swing my gaze to the ringleader, who’s spitting mad and dripping wet.
He’s not going to order her death.
She’s pretty.
