I sprinted into the hallway before skidding to a halt—the tattooed man from the hospital was blocking my exit out of the south wing.
“Hey curly whirly.” He crooned, beckoning me towards him with heavily inked fingers. “Let’s take a walk.”
“Who the hell are you?” I demanded, slowly backing down the hallway, panic rising in my throat.
He lifted his hands innocently, revealing a gun at his side with the motion. “Now, now, let’s not do anything impulsive.” He murmured, following my gaze. “Just come with me. I’m not going to hurt you.” Which is exactly what people said right before they did just that.
His footsteps were heavy and fast behind me as I bolted back into the bedroom—slamming the door shut behind me before I locked it.
“Open up.” A smooth voice called in contrast with theviolently shaking door as I spun in every direction, feeling like a trapped animal. “Come on, cupcake, are you really going to make me break down this door?” He threatened all too cooly.
Bile rose in my throat as I tripped over myself, sprinting through the sitting room and into the bedroom. Terrified, I fumbled with the window, realizing it wouldn’t open—the door to the suite burst open with a thunderous crack.
I whirled, eyes desperately sweeping the room, my gaze snagged on a heavy stone bust, and I hauled it off the dresser, launching it at the window. Glass shards went flying as I wasted precious seconds looking over my shoulder and found the tattooed man giving me a psychotic grin as he strode into the bedroom.
Oh my God, was he enjoying this? Chasing me like a cat playing with a mouse—I was not about to become a chew toy, I had a goddamn wedding to plan for Christ’s sake.
I shoved the thick, heavy panel of curtains over the ledge of broken glass and out the window, hoping I wasn’t about to break my neck as I slid over the edge. I gasped, feet dangling as the man lunged, but I slid lower before he could grab me.
“Take my hand.” He barked, straining over the ledge. “Now!”
I laughed in disbelief, realizing I was hanging over a relatively sturdy-looking flower trellis. I scrambled over to it, ripping vines loose left and right as I hurried towards the ground, screaming when it gave way and I fell the last few feet. Crashing into a bush, I groaned when something hard bounced off my head, adding insult to injury.
I flailed, hauling myself out of the bush, and sitting on the manicured lawn, glinting in the sunlight, was a beautiful little metal box. I snatched it up, skin prickling as I fumbled with the latch, finding something small wrapped inside. This had to be it!
My gaze snapped up as the trellis cracked again, and I realized the man was almost to the ground. I shoved up and sprinted like my life depended on it, because once-fucking-again it did.
Crashing through the maze of gardens, I wove through thehedges and finally dove into one, forcing silent breaths in and out as I quickly unwrapped the small object. Inside several layers of plastic, no-doubt to protect it from moisture, was a USB drive. I stared at it, realizing I had it—the blackmail. What else could it possibly be? Carter’s father must have hidden it in the stone masonry outside the bedroom window, where Claire would stand and look at her favorite painting every day—her roses. We’d been halfway right about the garden.
The man’s shoes suddenly appeared next to me, as he strode through the gardens. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” He crooned, and I clamped down on each panicked breath as a tear streaked down my cheek. “Don’t you want to come out and play? I promise I don’t bite.”
The second he wandered into the next row, I shoved the USB drive into my pocket, leaving the box, and crawled towards the sound of Carter’s voice—trying not to think about all the bugs that were probably all over me as I stayed hidden between the hedges. I was surprised to hear Carter talking in conversational tones as I got closer, but as I peered through the branches, I discovered a nearly identical, tattooed man was holding Carter atgunpoint.
Oh fuck no. Over my dead body were we doing this little number again.
I eyed the shovel lying on the ground behind the man who was about to shoot my damn husband to be. Heart pounding, I steeled myself and quietly crept across the lawn—whether or not Carter saw me, he didn’t let on.
It was now or never. I inched up behind the man and grabbed the shovel, aiming for his head as I swung hard—his hand shot out, halting my swing with an iron grip that left me stunned and panicked.
I yanked, but his grip didn’t budge and neither did the shovel. “Let go.” He demanded with such quiet, powerful menace that I did.
Just then, an arm slid around my shoulders from behind, andI froze. “Damn, you run fast.” The Cheshire Cat chuckled. “Not gonna lie, wasn’t expecting that.”
“She’s a track all-star.” Carter’s head ticked to the side in a tense movement. “And Luca, if you don’t get your hands off her in the next two point five seconds, you won’t have any. I don’t give a fuck who you are.”
“What do you think, Dante?” Luca asked. “I’m thinking maybe I should keep this one for myself.” My breath caught, and the muscles in Carter’s arms rippled as his eyes went lethally dark.
“Didn’t you hear what they did to the last guy that made that mistake?” Dante droned with a lazy roll of his eyes. “Your buddy likes to play with his food just as much as you do.”
“Exactly, makes me think I want to see what all the buzz is about.” Luca smirked, releasing his broad grip—I jolted when he patted my ass. “Alright, off you go, Legs, back to your keeper.”
I glared, but quickly hurried over to Carter, who immediately pushed me behind him, and as he kept that one hand on me, I realized he was trembling—with fear or rage, I had no idea.
“You wound me.” Dante touched his heart, still aiming the gun at Carter. “That you honestly feel the need to do that.”
Carter was tense but didn’t say anything, and as I looked at the two tall tattooed men in front of us, I suddenly understood why Tag had yelled and screamed and thrown his fists at me. Because looking at these men, truly dangerous men, there was a quiet, understated arrogance there, and I knew if they wanted, we’d already be dead. Taggart had been a powerless bluffer—his father’s pawn. Just like Eric.
“So what do you say?” Dante asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier if I just made this all go away?”
