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“Get his damn mask off. End this.”
The rubber protection is torn from my face, and I can’t breathe, even if I do try it for a bit.
The gas seeps into my lungs, and I quickly start losing consciousness.
I’m still scrambling when the guy kneels by my face and lifts up my head with the muzzle of his gun.
“Yeah, you’re some tough guy, huh? Well, you ain’t shit without backup.” The pistol smacks across my cheek, and I fall to the floor.
Warehouse Dickhead steps even closer, whispering into my ear as the blackness claims me.
“We got your bitch, too.”
Chapter 35
Clara
My head throbs like I have a wicked hangover. That terrible faux-sweet taste is still clinging to my nostrils and tongue.
I know I’m awake. I know I’m not at home or Luke’s or that shitty hotel where I was hiding from the very people who now have me.
I am aware of all this, and still, I can’t fucking believe it.
There are several voices around me as well, off in the distance, but not too far I can’t tell what they’re saying.
“We got ’em. So what now?” The first voice I hear is low and raspy like they have a cold.
“What now? Now, we get the location of those other fuckers who tried to end us in the other warehouse. No one makes a fool of the Crimson Cobras and gets away with it. We end every fucking one of their damn family.”
My heart skips, stumbling over an even rhythm, as I try to pretend I’m still out.
Regina and Beth. They can’t hurt them. Shit, no. No, no, no.
There’s more grumbling between the thugs, and then the voices grow fainter and fainter. They’ve left the immediate area.
Taking a peek by cracking one eyelid, I look around for any sign of them. Nothing.
When I open both eyes, I get a better look at the building around me. It’s large and clearly abandoned.
There are taupe cement block walls, the thick layers of paint on them chipping. There are rows of windows along either side of the building and support beams that run from the back to the front, evenly spaced.
That’s what I’m secured to—a bit of zip tie holding my arms to a cold, scratchy beam.
Pain continues to hum through my skull, and as I sit there, I can pinpoint more areas that ache more and more with each minute.
Like my ass bones where they’re resting uncomfortably on the concrete floor, my wrists where the plastic digs into my skin, and a low rumble in my belly because I’m tired and nauseated.
The baby.
At once, my heart rate accelerates, and I can practically feel the adrenaline and cortisol flooding my system.
Fuck, this can’t be good for it. No, shit. Wait. It’s early. There isn’t even an umbilical cord yet. Okay, okay.
But it’s still odd. I know I can’t have a baby with everything going on in my life, and still…
I’m worried. Maybe…
A noise off to the side snags my attention, and my muscles clamp down. I don’t want the Cobras to know I’m awake.
