“You’re the one who put the hit on Bobby. You murdered Carlos. How could you? He didn’t do anything to you.”
Carlos was ruthless, but he used diplomacy rather than threats or scare tactics.
“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.” His voice is calm and lethal.
He controls his emotions well. I swallow down the fear coating the inside of my throat and stare back at him, my gaze unwavering. With his attitude and male ego, this man is like the guys I eat with every other Sunday. Give them an inch, show weakness, and they will own my soul. I will not give this man that kind of power. I am my father’s child, and he is in prison for murder.
“Bobby will come for me. My father’s men will finish what he started. If you want to live, let me go.”
“What’d I say about keeping your mouth shut?”
“Let me go!” My head throbs. My throat is hoarse. Nausea hits me out of nowhere, and I lose my lunch on the floor.
He shoves off the chair. Grabbing my hair, he forces my head upward with a hard yank. Sharp pains scatter across my scalp. Tears sting the corners of my eyes. I can’t keep my food down. I throw up. Saliva clings to my lip. I lose more of my food.
“Stop barfing!”
“I . . . I can’t. I hit my head hard on the window.” I shake my head. He tightens his hold on my hair. My head spins. “Please, take me to the hospital.” Breathing hurts. I have a concussion and probably broken ribs.
“Stop or I’ll stop it for you.” He holds a roll of electric tape in front of me.
I’ll aspirate my vomit if he tapes up my mouth. I won’t die like that. I’d rather he knock me out.
I spit on his face. “Go to hell.”
He sneers. “You first.”
Quicker than I can take my next breath, I’m clocked on the side of the head with the butt of his shotgun. My head snaps back. I blink and see it’s not a shotgun in his hand.
Fuck.
It’s a sniper rifle.
For the second time tonight, my world darkens.
38
BOBBY
“Where the fuck is she?” I lurch up and fight off the medics trying to strap me the fuck down on the gurney. I ain’t going anywhere without my woman. “Where’s Ever?” I sweep my gaze around the wreck.
There are blue and red flashing lights everywhere. I hit my head hard on the side window and blacked out. My last memory, before we were T-boned, was headlights coming at us fast and furious when I glanced over to look at my beautiful Ever.
Slate slams me back onto the gurney. “Stop flopping around like a limp dick. You’re gonna roll off the fucking gurney, man.”
“Ever, where the fuck is she?” I demand through clenched teeth. “Tell me she’s at the hospital already. Tell me they have the son of a bitch who rammed us.” I fist his shirt in my hands and yank him to me. “Give me something, Slate.” I’m begging. I’m desperate.
My heart is a sledgehammer against my rib cage. Bile coats my throat. My stomach is in a knot. My body is warring with itself. I’m pissed. I’m ready to hurl. The anger wins out. I knock away the hands trying to keep me down and swing at the officers coming at me. Ever isn’t here. She’s not at the hospital. A sense of loss grips my very being and won’t let the fuck go.
I drop to my knees. A ringing cuts through the noise. My cell. Is Ever calling me? Did she walk away from the scene and is lying somewhere, hurt and bleeding?
Fuck. Fuck. I scramble to my feet and run to my truck. Thank fuck I didn’t put the phone on vibrate when with Ever. I answer. “Ever. Where are you, babe? Are you okay?” I’m out of breath and dizzy. I couldn’t give two fucks.
“Thank God you finally answered. I’ve been trying to call you for the past thirty minutes.”
I’ve been out for half an hour?
“Ever’s missing,” I tell Zach. “Someone rammed us the fuck off the road.”
