“You really shouldn’t listen to the fox who’s gotten into your henhouse,” I tell him, struggling to keep myself together. Only a fool would take Christian’s word as truth. I’ve never thought the man before me to be easily fooled, but here he is, proving me wrong.
“Give me a?—”
“You want a name?” I interrupt with a sneer. “Why don’t you take a look at some of the men under your own command,or at the fucking autopsy report, instead of relying on an untrustworthy source for information?”
“You’re saying I can’t trust my own nephew?” he asks. “My own flesh and blood? You think he’d honestly?—”
A short cry bursts from my lungs as his body slams into mine, tackling me to the ground abruptly, shielding me as distant screams and gunfire erupt around us. Instinctively, I bury my face in his chest as he covers me, barking orders at his men.
“Set up a fucking perimeter!” Dante yells, struggling to be heard over the gunfire and chaos. There’s a flurry of motion around us, his grip on my head tight as he fights to ensure I’m not harmed. “Get moving!”
Slowly, the panic subsides. The chaos dulls. Dante eases his grip and stands, his head swiveling as his men rush to surround him. I take his offered hand, brushing dirt from my skirt before looking around.
The graveyard is in shambles. Christian’s and Dante’s men are running back and forth, guns drawn, hustling the women toward their cars. I’m mildly shocked I haven’t heard Christian screaming my name yet. Then again, I doubt he cares if I’m shot or not. He’s probably too busy cowering behind a headstone and peeing his pants to really give me much thought.
“Avaleigh!” Christian hollers, his face red and thunderous as he storms toward us.
Damn. I was kinda hoping he’d gotten shot.
He’s like fucking Beetlejuice, but worse. Just think his name and he appears, like an unwanted cockroach in a Motel Six bathtub that just won’t die.
Dante shifts slightly in front of me as his nephew approaches, something that doesn’t go unnoticed if Christian’s glower is anything to go by.
“Let’s go, Avaleigh.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Dante hisses. Christian snarls at his uncle, hackles raised like a dog protecting its bone. Fuck me, I’m the damn bone. “You wanted to lead the men, then you need to be here to lead them. She goes, but you stay.”
With that, he walks away without even a backward glance, leaving me alone with an irate Christian.
I’m a dead, dead duck. This isn’t going to end well for me.
“Eduardo,” Christian calls to his second-in-command. Fuck a duck. That man is foul, like sewer-living foul. He looks like someone dressed up a warthog in an ill-fitting suit and said,‘Have fun at the banquet. Be back before midnight.’His trousers hover well above his thick ankles, his white shirt stained and straining to contain his rotund belly.
In short, he’s repulsive.
“Yeah?” Eduardo tilts his head up to his boss in recognition. Hardly respectful.
“Take the little lamb here back to her cage and make sure she behaves.” A small smirk forms on his lips. “You know what to do if she doesn’t.”
Eduardo grins, revealing a mouth full of yellowing teeth. “Got it, boss,” he says, grabbing my upper arm and dragging me toward Christian’s SUV. His pace is brutal, my heels catching in the soft grass as I stumble after him. “Move it, girlie. Stop messing around or I might have to punish you right here.” His voice drips with glee.
The thought of this man doing anything to me makes my body shiver in revulsion. My skin crawls as his beady eyes roam my body every time he glances back. Not wanting to give him a reason to try anything, I quicken my pace, nearly walking on my toes to keep up with his long strides.
Bile churns in my gut and panic swells in my chest when I glance back and find Christian watching me. A dark, twistedsmirk spreads across his lips as Eduardo all but tosses me into the back of the waiting SUV.
That look is all too familiar. Whatever he has planned isn’t going to be good. I need to come up with a way to escape, and fast, because I doubt I’ll survive whatever comes next.
six
Eduardo drags me along the empty corridor of the stables toward my cell.
It’s quiet. Almost too quiet.
There’s usually some kind of noise here, whether it’s the other women sobbing or Christian’s men walking the halls or whispered conversations.
Now, there’s nothing but the portly man’s stomping footsteps, heavy breathing, and the click of my pesky heels against the concrete floor.
I stumble into my cell, caught off guard by Eduardo’s rough shove, mumbling under my breath.
