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Tattoo Neck stepped forward and jerked on my chains. My body slid, the rug rubbing the sensitive skin along the left side of my stomach. Boris smiled down at me before moving over to make room for Tattoo Neck to pull me from the van.
Damn. Why didn’t he stick with the deadened stare? Even a deranged clown with his face painted into a wide grin while holding a bloody ax would have been preferable to his smile.
“I can get out on my own, thank you,” I hissed at Tattoo Neck as I struggled to sit up.
He looked over at Boris, and when Boris nodded, Tattoo Neck let go of my chains and stalked off. I wish I could say I felt relieved to find myself with one less asshole to contend with, but I’d take him over the giant in front of me any day.
Shielding my eyes from the glaring light coming from the roofline above, I surveyed my newest prison. Mostly, so I wouldn’t have to look at Boris because every time I did, it became harder to breathe.
Men with machine guns walked the perimeter of the massive gray metal building in front of me. Empty wooden pallets were stacked up next to a forklift on my left, and to my right sat a red semi-truck hitched up to a white trailer. Two Dobermans paced nervously in front of a plain black metal door, the sound of their chains grinding against the pavement making goose bumps break out along my flesh.
Boris spun on his heel and headed for the door. He expected me to follow him, but I stood there. Frozen. My earlier bravado was gone. All thoughts of needing to keep my family safe, gone. The only thing I could focus on was the feeling of dread that had invaded my system like a sickness.
Nobody needed to tell me terrible things happened here. You could feel the inky black cloud of evil clinging to the building like a vine.
Misery had held my previous hellhole in its tight grip, but it was nothing like this. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that bad things hadn’t happened there too. Even though I’d spent half my time drugged, I’d heard enough to give most people nightmares. But the difference between the two places was like trying to compare Chucky and Michael Myers. They were both filled with horror, but one was child’s play compared to the other.
Up ahead, Boris coughed, his hand on the door. He looked over his shoulder, his soulless eyes settling on mine. The effect was akin to walking over a grave.
“You’ve already failed my first test. If I were you, I’d hurry. You won’t like what happens if you fail me again.”
His voice carried on the still night air, and all the surrounding men paused. I could feel them staring at me, waiting for me to move. My mind screamed at me to fight. To do something, anything. But I simply stood there, staring back at a monster.
For his size, Boris was amazingly fast and light on his feet. The sight of him barreling toward me, cold fury contorting his face, would be forever etched in my mind. My body stiffened even as it shook, preparing for the blow, only to have him halt a few feet away.
We stood there for the space of a few heartbeats, just staring at one another before he finally spoke. “I’m forbidden from marring your body, but keep in mind that still leaves a lot of torture techniques for me to work with. Until you’re sold, little girl, you belong to me. And it doesn’t matter how much you fight, scream, or beg, you will obey. They all do in the end.”
CHAPTER 12
SWITCH
What kind ofLittle House On The Prairiebullshit was Hunter trying to pull, ’cause this for damn sure wasn’t a warehouse. There was nothing here but grassy fields, a stand of trees, a white picket fence, and a dirt road. Yet, according to the pin he’d dropped to my phone, I had arrived.
If that fucker double crossed me, and I ended up losing Stel, I was going to kill him. Slowly and painfully. Everyone knew I was lethal with a dart, and by the time I was done with him his balls would look like pincushions.
Without her, I had nothing. No home, no family, and no heart. I’d left it all with her when I walked out the door. If she ceased to exist, then so would I. Right after I took care of Hunter.
The rumble of a bike coming up the road behind me gave me pause. Maybe I wouldn’t have to kill Hunter after all. I still had no idea why he wanted to meet in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, but whatever. As long as I got Stel back, I didn’t really give a fuck either way.
A bike’s headlight illuminated the still night as it rounded the last bend, and I twisted around on my seat to see who was approaching. My hand automatically reached for the pistol I had tucked into the shoulder holster underneath my vest. It wouldn’t be wise to assume just because there was a biker approaching the place Hunter sent me to that they were a Devil.
In the dark, all I could only make out was the outline of two riders. Shit. All the Devil’s I knew rode alone. My hand tightened around the grip of my pistol, and I hoped this was nothing more than a couple out for a late-night ride through the countryside.
The bike slowed, and as it drew closer, the riders appeared to float above the road. There was only one person I knew with a custom paint job like that.
Ryder had a Stella special, though not intentionally. His bitchy flame of the moment had pissed her off, so she painted pink flames on the side of his gas tank. He tried to order more of the manufacturer’s basic black to cover it up, but suddenly nobody within a hundred-mile radius had it in stock. Then, the idiot thought he’d be slick and order it from a guy four counties over. Only, when he opened the can of paint, it was pink instead of black.
Could I have saved him a lot of time and trouble by telling him Stel knew most of the paint guys in Texas? Yeah. But where was the fun in that? Besides, it forced him to apologize for not having Stel’s back, which he should have, and he ended up with something way better than a manufacturer’s basic black paint job.
Honestly, I didn’t know how Stel got her hands on someVantablackpaint considering it wasn’t available commercially, but I thought it best not to go down that rabbit hole.Vantablackhad a lot of scientific applications, but in its paint form it erased all the contours from an image, making a three-dimensional object appear two-dimensional. Thus, Ryder’s bike was damn near invisible after dark.
He pulled up beside me and nodded his head at the hand I still had wrapped around my pistol. “Save that shit for when we have company later. You remember Val, don’t you?”
My eyes swung to his passenger. Valentina Castillo. The only daughter of Miguel Castillo, the largest drug lord in Mexico. Or at least he was until Valentina’s older brother Diego killed him and took over. Not that I was complaining about the change in management. Diego was a hell of a lot more stable than his father.
“Yeah.”
Valentina’s shadow shifted, and I could feel her eyes on me, sizing me up. I wasn’t sure what she was hoping to find in the dark, but as far as I was concerned, she could fuck right off with her holier than thou attitude. Not that long ago, she’d been the one who was a threat. Hell, for all I knew she still was. But that was Ryder’s problem, not mine.
