I’ve heard nothing but rats since I was shoved in here. But at least I’m alone.
Two sets of shoes enter the room, scuffing against the rubble and dust all over the floor. My eyes run up the bodies of the guards. They are big guys, both dressed in black joggers and tennis shoes.
I’m hauled roughly to my feet, meaty fingers curling around my arm as one of them says something to the other in a language I don’t understand. They flank me, one moving a hand to the door, about to pull me out of here to god knows where.
But if they wanted me to come quietly, they shouldn’t have left me lying here so long.
I kick out with my foot, the ball of it slamming hard into the kneecap of the guy on my right. The second his leg goes out fromunder him, I headbutt him, hearing a satisfying crack as his nose breaks.
He hollers in pain as he staggers back.
I swing around and kick my leg out to the other one. I’m struggling to balance with my hands tied, but I’ve taken them both by surprise. The other guy has no time to pull his gun before he flips backward, the force of the blow knocking the wind out of him as he lands on his back with a grunt of shock.
I’m running before the other one has gotten to his feet. I can see the blood from his nose dripping onto the floor, and I don’t want to be around when he recovers.
I charge through the doorway across the cold concrete floor, trying to take in everything around me in case I need to remember it for later.
There are windows running along the hallway in front of me that lead to a huge door that looks as if it’s bolted shut.
Hallways run off on either side as I sprint past, trying to judge which one would be best to run down. I can already hear one of the guards pursuing me, and there’s the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked.
I lurch sideways to my left, tugging at the bonds on my hands as I run past metal trollies and endless stacked-up cardboard boxes. Doors lead off on every side, but what I’m really looking for is daylight. It’s only when I pass below a high window in the wall and see a flash of the night sky that I realize I must have been unconscious for a lot longer than I thought.
My head throbs as I reach the end of the hallway, looking from right to left, only for a door to open nearby and Nick fucking Monroe to saunter through it, casual as can be.
Two massive guys follow him, holding their guns at their sides as he watches me with a little smile on his face.
“Jaax,” he says in a sing-song voice. “You’re making quite a mess of things today, aren’t you?”
I can’t speak as he approaches me. I’m breathing heavily, the tape cutting into the skin around my mouth.
Two sets of footsteps run up behind me, and I stiffen as Monroe looks over my shoulder, giving them a long, hard stare.
“Are you so fucking incompetent you can’t even handle a girl?” he asks, his voice snapping like a whip in the silence.
He turns to me, his hand coming up to caress my jaw as I jerk back from him.
“Come on, Jax, I just want to help you,” Monroe says gently, his finger and thumb pinching the corner of the tape as he peels it from my face. It snags against my skin, uncomfortable and itchy as it peels from my mouth. He tugs it off, nodding with satisfaction as he lowers his hand, folding it up and placing it into his palm in a neat little square.
“You’re shaking,” he says, with fake concern.
Yes, fucker, it’s fucking freezing in here.
“Where are my brothers?” I bark.
“You know, I had asked for you to be accommodated a little more generously than them,” he says, ignoring my question. “I really was very upset when they tried their little,” he coughs, “uh, coup.”
The guards are laughing now, and my stomach drops as I think about what they might have done to them.
“Come.” Monroe continues. “Let’s go somewhere a little more pleasant. I’m afraid this isn’t quite as luxurious as my apartment. But I’d love to show it to you someday.”
Big hands grip my upper arms from behind me, tight enough to bruise as I am shoved forward after Monroe.
He’s wearing the ridiculous cloak again. It looks absurd, and I wonder how many of his goons would have the balls to tell him so. My guess is not a one.
“Where are my brothers?” I ask again.
“This space was originally for airplanes,” Monroe says in the same melodic tone as he continues down the hall, gesturing to the room we’re approaching. “But I’ve repurposed it. This is larger than my other operation, you know, Jax. I’ve made quite a name for myself in this city.”
