After the other men left, the leader said, “You are lucky. For now.” Then he was gone too.
“Mat—”
My brother shushed me before I could finish. I might have continued, but he inspected the corners of the ceilings and I caught on. My last time in Chicago, I’d gotten a crash course about concealed cameras and listening equipment.
“Look, Lily,” he said, making it clear we were still pretending not to be siblings, “I plan to negotiate for your release.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I said, a knee-jerk reaction, forgetting the character I should be playing.
“Why not? You don’t give a shit about me,” he said, maintaining his cover.
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I’m a heartless bitch,” I said as I stared daggers at my brother. He had to know I’d never leave him.
“Don’t be a dumb one either. Maybe your man will make a deal.”
My man? Who was he referring to? He couldn’t possibly mean Striker. I’d told him I’d ended that relationship. Though I hadn’t told him that Striker was Connor—mostly because I hadn’t seen or talked to my brother a lot over the last few months.
He had to be talking about Griff. If anyone had a prayer’s chance in hell to find us, it would be him. He owned a security company. The more I thought about it, I wondered if Griff had put a tracker on me. Then again, I didn’t have my purse. My exodus from the wedding had been impulsive. The only things I wore, besides the flimsy bridesmaid dress, were a bra, panties, shoes, and earrings. Though I would have hated it in any other situation, I prayed Griff had defied my privacy and planted a tracker in or around the pearls at my ears.
I clicked my heels on the floor, hating they’d secured my ankles to the legs of the chair. Those heels were the only weapons at my disposal, along with nails and teeth. The latter was the only one available, and I didn’t like the idea of biting any of the sweaty, disgusting men who had brought us here.
“You hear me?” Matty said.
I came back from the faraway place I’d gone and focused on my brother. I might have said something, but the leader was back.
“We have company,” the leader said, his gaze landing on me.
I couldn’t imagine what any of this had to do with me—until the most unlikely person entered the room.
“Mr. Black,” the leader said.
Striker—Conner King—had another name, it seemed. Mr. Black. I might have shaken my head if I wasn’t so captivated by the man who looked like the best-dressed biker I’d thought him to be. From leather pants, shit-kicking boots, and that beat-all-to-hell leather jacket he never seemed to be without, he was still the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Are you sure you want her back?” The leader grinned as though his question was the funniest ever.
“She’s my wife,” Striker said, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but here.
Later, I would guess my tiny gasp and quick glance at my brother played into whatever was going on.
“That’s the man she was with,” the leader said with glee.
Striker stepped forward and decked my brother square in the jaw. Matt’s head snapped back, and I let out a strangled cry. Then Striker was in front of me and one of the leader’s henchmen freed me from my bonds. Striker wasn’t exactly gentle when he helped me to my feet.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to punish her for you?” the leader asked.
“No,” Striker answered.
The leader gave a full belly laugh. “I guess for the money you paid, you earned the right.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I sneered.
The men who had filled the room laughed, along with the leader.
Striker leaned down and whispered, “For once, do what you’re told.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Even quieter, he said, “If you want to live, you will.”
If the room hadn’t erupted in laughter, they might have heard me slip up and say, “I’m not leaving my brother.”
“Just this once, trust me,” Striker said as he practically dragged me from the room.
If I hadn’t spotted the men with guns in strategic places in the open-air main area of the warehouse, I would have dug in my heels. Instead, I waited to speak until we were alone and close to his bike.
“If something happens to him, I’ll kill you myself,” I said. When he held out a helmet to me, I refused to take it. “I’m not leaving.”
“If you don’t, we’ll all die.” I held firm, and he sighed before checking his watch. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Like you punching my brother? Oh, what a big man you are, hitting a man who can’t defend himself.”
“I used that distraction to slip him something to use to free himself. But if you don’t get your pretty ass on my bike, they are going to know something's up.”