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“Since when did the Crowe family hire Secret Service agents?” I asked the one next to me after the silence became unbearable.
This caused a surprise snort to leave him.
“I’m insulted, ma’am,” the one driving said. My eyes found his in the rearview mirror. “You don’t remember me?”
I took him in. He wasn’t remarkable. He was just another white man with brown hair and blue eyes. Someone I would see off the street.
His lips quirked before he lifted his hand, shaking his wrist so his sleeve would fall down just slightly.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw an all too familiar tattoo branded on his arm.
Images of the last time I saw the man played through my mind.
“Cooperate, Mrs. Crowe,” he said as he held my head in place, forcing me to look at the woman beat down in front of me.
It was a wife, not much like myself. She was lying on the floor and pleading for the others to stop. Her shaky hand reached up, the diamond on her left hand shining in the dim light.
It too was covered in her blood.
Russell was by her husband, a sick smile spreading across his face as he handed his friend the steel bar.
“Please,” I whispered to the man holding me hostage. But it was no use. They wouldn’t listen to me.
I flinched so hard when they brought down the metal pipe on her that he lost his grip. I turned to the side, trying to shield my face, but his hands were there, grabbing for me.
He grabbed my chin with one hand, his other across my forehead, pushing my head back into his chest and making it impossible for me to move.
The tattoos that were branded on all Crowe men were on his wrist, just on the border of my vision.
I locked onto it, unable to look at the slaughter that was happening in front of me.
“Take note,” Russell said, his voice echoing throughout the room. “Whoever thinks it’s a good idea to run away will receive the same punishment, understood?”
There were a few other women in the room, all of them answering right away… except me.
“Tiffany?”
“Yes,” I breathed, forcing my eyes to look back at him.
His face was bloodied, and the smile on his face told me that he would have no qualms about doing this to me as well.
I remembered him. Just like I had committed the faces of every other Crowe man into memory. He had grown up since then. He was a teenager the last time I saw him, but now he was almost unrecognizable.
These weren’t Secret Service agents. These were Crowe’s men playing dress-up.
I refused to talk for the rest of the way, not that they pushed me. They never much cared for the women tied to the family. If anything, they probably got off on my return just as much as Russell did.
* * *
It wasn’t long until we arrived at a short pier in the middle of nowhere.
They had taken an uncommonly used route and circled back a few times, my guess was to make sure no one was following.
But it also gave me another hint at what was going to happen to me that night.
They didn’t bother to try to cover my eyes or shield me from the knowledge of where we were going.
Because they knew you wouldn’t be making it back.
