I swallow hard, fearing this version of the man I enjoyed in the living room. That man doesn’t exist right now, and I’m left with a callous, cruel asshole whose favorite hobbies include drowning the monsters inside his head, drumming over pools of blood, and probably a light Sunday afternoon decapitation.
Roman indicates toward the side entrance. “You two take the front and I’ll get the drop on him out back.”
Without another word, the feared DeAngelis brothers slide out of the car without making a damn sound, preparing themselves for a night of adrenaline-filled fun.
Not sure what I should be doing or where the hell they want me, I slip out behind them and keep close, only as my door closes behind me, three sets of obsidian eyes come back to mine. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Roman grunts, but before I get a chance to respond, Marcus is leaning back into the car and pulls out a thick, black material.
My eyes widen, recognizing the bag that they shoved over my head only a few short nights ago, and as I pull away, more than ready to make a run for it, Roman catches me in his steel grip as Marcus shoves the black bag right over my head and presses his hand over my mouth, keeping me from screaming.
“You didn’t think this was going to be fun, did you?” Marcus laughs, keeping his tone low as he wrestles me out of Roman’s tight grip and drags my ass back to the car. I bite his hand through the bag and get a sick satisfaction out of the way he curses in pain.
He must be using the hand that I stabbed a steak knife through, but the menacing laughter reminds me that it’s not just others’ pain he gets off on, it’s his own. “Mmmm,” he moans, his face right up against mine as he captures my wrists in his big hands and forces them up. “What I would give to see the fear in your eyes right now, baby girl. But you have to promise, next time, you’ll bite me harder.”
Fucking hell. What kind of sick perverted asshole have I got myself mixed up with?
I’m thrown back into my seat and I pull hard against his hold, but it’s no use, he’s too strong. “Hurry up,” I hear Levi outside the car. “She’s drawing too much attention.”
Marcus sighs, realizing that his fun is over. With one quick movement, I feel the familiar cool metal of handcuffs tightening around my wrists and hooking around the holy shit bar above my head. “NO, NO, NO,” I cry out as Marcus moves away from me. But despite my objections, the car door slams in my face, followed by the soft click of the automatic locks. “ASSHOLES!”
I tug on my wrist but get absolutely nowhere as the fear of the unknown pulses through my veins. I have to do something. I have to get out of here, or at the very least, try. There were woods surrounding the industrial area. If I can get out of this car and somehow lose myself in the thick branches, then I might have a fighting chance.
With my new resolve, hope, and fear keeping my chin up, I pull my feet up under me on the leather chair. I try to stand, shoving my ass right up into the ceiling of the Escalade and lean forward just enough to shake the black bag off my head.
My hair goes staticky and falls over my face, but I quickly adjust myself to focus on my wrists. It’s not exactly the first time I’ve been in cuffs, but I can’t say that the ones I had before were real. I tug hard, the frustration of being trapped quickly sending me into a panic.
My gaze shifts out the window and I watch as Levi and Marcus walk in through the front of the warehouse with far too much confidence, but it’s not like they haven’t done this a million times before.
Someone is going to die here tonight, and I don’t want to be anywhere near here when it happens. Though unfortunately for that guy, his fate has already been sealed. There’s no saving him now.
Getting nowhere with the tugging, I let out a heavy breath and realize that to play with fire, I’m going to have to pull out all the stops.
I twist my hands around and grip onto the holy shit bar with everything I’ve got, and after taking another quick glance out the window and checking that I’m clear, I prop my feet on either side of the bar. With my back resting against the expensive leather, I pull as hard as I can. I push off my feet, putting my whole body weight behind it while gripping onto the bar with everything I’ve got.