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“Not that screaming will help anything,” his brother warns. “There’s nobody around for a mile in any direction. At least.”
“All it’ll do is piss us off, and you don’t want to do that.” He leans down, takes hold of the tape, and pulls it away. I can’t help whimpering in pain, but at least I can breathe better now.
“Why?” It’s the biggest question looming in my mind. “Why are you doing this? Why me?”
“You really don’t know?” They exchange a look.
“No.” There are tears in my eyes, in my voice. I can’t help it. I don’t want to be weak, to let them think it’ll be easy to do whatever they want to me, but what else am I supposed to do? My whole life is flashing in front of me.
“We’ve gotta do something with her.” Evan scrubs a hand over his black hair. “Right?”
“Obviously.”
“Don’t hurt me. Please.” I know it sounds pitiful, and it’s what people in this position probably always say, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind. “Whatever this is about, we can figure it out. I know we can.”
I try to move my legs, but they’re starting to cramp. My groan isn’t for show. “Can you get rid of the tape, please? It’s hurting me.”
They have another one of those silent conversations, staring at each other. Evan snorts like he’s not a fan of the idea, but his brother sits on the edge of the couch anyway and pulls something out of his back pocket.
“Relax.” He rolls his eyes when I gasp. “How else do you want me to get it off?” He opens the knife and works it under the tape on my ankles until he can peel it free. Only his hand rests on my ankles longer than it needs to, then starts inching up my calf.
I pull it away, and he only snickers before giving the same treatment to the tape around my wrists. My muscles ache enough to make me whimper again when the blood starts flowing, but it means I’m free. Free-ish, anyway.
Neither of them stops me when I work my way into a sitting position, then draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I’m only wearing a long T-shirt, but it covers most of me when I pull it over my legs, of all the nights to go to bed without at least shorts on.
The rest of the house is silent. It’s just the three of us. “Why did you bring me here?” I ask in a whisper. I don’t know whether I want the answer. “Who are you?”
“Who are we?” They exchange a look. “Right now, we’re the reason you’re still alive.”
3
EVAN
This is a fucking mistake.All the way around. No other way to describe it.
But the alternative is somehow worse.
I don’t know what it is about her, but Mason feels it, too. Or else the girl would be dead in her bed right now, and we’d be… well, we’d be here, probably. Without her. Without guilt or remorse or any of that shit.
So why couldn’t we go through with it?
And why do I want to touch her so badly? Goddamn, she’s tempting. Now that I’ve gotten a feel of her smooth skin—like silk—I want more.
“My name’s Evan.” I jerk my chin at my brother. “That’s Mason. And I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we were sent to your apartment to kill you.”
She gasps, flinching like I hurt her. Mason groans. “Nice. Make sure you scare the shit out of her.”
“I think it’s too late for that. What’s the point of pretending? Somebody wants her dead, and we were sent there to make it happen.”
“Why would anybody want me dead?” She sounds like a little girl, which makes sense considering the sort of bed she sleeps in. If it hadn’t been for that princess setup and the Christmas lights and all that, this might’ve turned out differently. Something about it was enough to make me think twice. To hesitate. I never hesitate if I can help it. That’s the sort of shit that can get a person killed.
But this time, there was no helping it. I couldn’t make myself pull the trigger. Then she woke up, and it only took one look at those baby blue eyes to tuck away my gun.
“We don’t know why. We just take the job. No questions asked,” Mason explains, folding his arms. “You tell us. Who did you fuck over?”
“I have no idea. I mean it.” Her eyes dart back and forth between us. Beautiful innocent eyes. The pale blue is offset by her dark hair and creamy skin, but right now, they’re huge and full of fear. “It must’ve been some kind of mistake. You had the wrong apartment.”
“So how come I know your name, Frankie Barrymore?”
