But before I could bring it down?—
The taller man appeared. One hand shot out. Caught the bat mid-swing. Ripped it from my grip so easily I nearly fell forward from the momentum.
"No—"
He tossed it aside. The clatter echoed like a death knell. Then he grabbed my throat, holding me there against the wall, letting me feel how strong he was. How powerless I'd just become.
"That," he whispered, voice deadly calm, "was a mistake."
The shorter man straightened, clutching his shoulder. Blood still streamed from his nose. His eyes burned with something that made my bladder threaten to let go.
"I'm gonna make you regret that."
My fingers clawed at the hand around my throat.
Useless.
Pathetic.
The taller man's grip tightened just enough to make breathing difficult.
"Should've just called your boyfriend," he murmured. "Would've saved us all some trouble."
Darkness crept at the edges of my vision.
My lungs burned. My nails dug into his wrist, drawing blood I couldn't see.
The shorter man stepped closer, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Smiling.
"Now," he said softly, "we do this the hard way."
I didn't know what "the hard way" meant, but I knew it wouldn't be good.
The hand around my throat loosened just enough for me to gasp—one ragged, desperate breath that tasted like copper and fear.
The shorter man stepped closer, blood still dripping from his ruined nose.
"You're gonna make a phone call," he said. "Tell Jones you need help. Tell him to bring cash."
My voice came out broken. "No?—"
"Or," the taller one murmured against my ear, breath hot and rancid, "we make you scream loud enough that he hears it, anyway."
His free hand moved to my hip. Squeezed.
Oh God.
My vision tunneled. Everything narrowed to that single point of contact—his hand claiming territory it had no right to touch.
"What's it gonna be, sweetheart?"
Chapter 26
Gideon
James groaned again, arm flopping off the couch like he meant to drown himself in the carpet.
Scar nudged his boot with one toe.
