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Mick kneeled, his hand latched onto her throat and squeezed like a snake around its prey. Her fingers clawed at his grasp as stars began to prick at her consciousness. She yelled for help, but the words never came out.
“Don’t fight it,” he murmured to her.
She didn’t have a lot to fight with, but she had enough. Her foot kicked against his chest with everything she had, which was enough to stagger him back after releasing his hold on her airway.
Layne rolled over with violent coughs wracking her body, pushed herself up onto her feet, and ran out of her bedroom. All the while, she was still fighting the wave of dizziness that was made worse by her movements.
Relying on basic survival instincts, she knew she had to get out of there. Get out, Layne. Escape when death is the inevitable outcome of staying - just like her dad had always told her.
The thunderous footsteps were getting closer to her or was that the pounding of the blood pumping furiously through her body?
Clutching to the railing, she descended the main staircase clumsily. When she made it to the bottom step, she felt a force plow into her from behind sending her plummeting to the floor. A cry of surprise erupted from her mouth and echoed in the acoustics of the foyer. Still summoning every ounce of stubborn fight in her, she pushed up onto her hands.
Mick’s hands yanked her up the rest of the way onto her feet by her upper arm and a fistful of her hair. The hold on her arm was so tight she swore it would take him very little to crush her bones. “Stay awhile, sweetheart, we’re going to have a little chat.” With his hand ensnared in her hair, he gave a harsh tug, causing her head to tilt back uncomfortably.
His eyes met her own, full of sinister motives and a cruel grin stretched across his mouth. Fuck.
CHAPTER THIRTY
She sat there in the dining room, ropes biting into her delicate wrists as they restrained her from moving from the chair. Her ankles were equally indisposed to the legs of the chair.
Layne glared over at Mick, the betrayal that she felt was pale in comparison to the amount of anger and seething that she had for the man. “All these years, and this was your plan? Why?” He had spent over thirty years working for her father, and now he was making a play for more power? She just couldn’t comprehend it.
“Oh, Layne, sweetheart, you never were good at seeing the bigger picture.” His hand that wasn’t holding his gun lightly patted the top of her thigh.
“Enlighten me.” She needed to keep this conversation going. Every minute he was talking to her was a minute more to try and find a way out of this seemingly hopeless situation.
He squatted down in front of her so they could look at each other on the same level. Mick shook his head, either really impressed with himself or disappointed in her.
“Because it’s not just about me. Project 227 is my big break in this industry. I have been at your father’s side for years, and the moment he knocked up your mother, he decided that instead of rewarding all my hard work and loyalty he would mindlessly pass the torch onto a clump of cells. All he could talk about was how proud he would be to hand off this business to blood. For all his touting about loyalty being the pinnacle of this business, loyalty has meant nothing but shit to him.”
Layne was in disbelief that all of this was because he was butthurt. Typical men. “Well, you know what they say about loyalty? Blood ties strengthen the roots of loyalty. I guess, you didn’t have what it took.”
Mick’s face twisted with rage as he used the pistol in his hand to strike her across the face. Her head harshly turned with the impact. A cut on her cheekbone where the cold and unforgiving metal had connected. The broken skin cried a crimson trail down the side of her face, falling from the edge of her jaw onto her jean-clad leg.
“Always with the fuckin’ mouth, Layne. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told myself that someone needed to give it a good hard smack.” He chuckled, “but, that wouldn’t have taught you a lesson though, would it? You just can’t help yourself.”
He placed the muzzle of the gun on the seat of her chair between her legs, slowly inching it to her apex so it was pushed up against the crotch of her pants. “Just like you couldn’t help yourself chasing dick all over the city.” He partially rose and leaned in, his lips harshly rubbing against her ear as he whispered into her ear. “Just like your whore of a mother.”
Layne’s arms tensed with all the anger continuing to escalate inside of her, but unable to lash out without the freedom of her arms or legs. She pulled her head to the side to strain away from his sickening breath as far as she was able. His hand promptly latched onto her face, fingers harshly dug into her cheeks as he turned her to look right at him. His fingers smeared her own blood across her face as he did so. “You’re going to learn a lot of brutal real-world lessons today, and I can’t wait.”
His grip finally relinquished its hold on her as he stepped back, licking the coppery flavor of her blood clean from his fingers. Afterwards, he retrieved a phone from his pocket dialing a number. Placing it on speaker, Layne shifted uncomfortably in her seat not getting any reprieve from the tightly bound ropes.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri?—
“Mick, what’s going on?” Her heart sank hearing her father’s familiar voice at the end of the other line. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second already foreseeing where this was going. He was on a business trip up in Boston - hours away and Mick knew that was to his advantage.
“Oh, just a little restructuring of this organization.” His eyes never left Layne even though she had no opportunity to go anywhere.
“What are you talking about?” Scott’s voice was weary and impatient with the lack of clarity of Mick’s response.
“I’m sick and fuckin’ tired of being put below your spoiled brats. There’s going to be a lot of changes around here after I’m done dealing with them.”
There was a silence so thick on the other end from her father processing the gravity of the situation from words alone. After a few seconds, her father’s cautious tone came across, “where’s your head at, Mickey?”
He smiled like he had been envisioning this moment for some time. “I have Layne here with me, why don’t you ask her?”
“Layne? Layne, tell me what’s going on.” A slight tick of panic in his voice as he asked for her.
