“Fuck you,” I choke out against his hand. Then I squeeze my eyes shut and lift up the two hands that he’s no longer trapping to my sides to shield my face, convinced either he or Coltello will hit me again.
But nothing happens. I’m startled when I open my eyesagain and notice a pained expression on his face.
Then he stops stroking me, and his body stiffens around me as he leans toward Moretti’s underboss. “Alright, Coltello. Drink your coffee, and get the fuck out of here.”
“I’ll get the fuck out of here with the girl, that’s what I’ll do,” drawls Coltello. “And don’t even think of threatening me with that thing. You’ll both be dead in a second.”
My eyes widening, I look down at the hand that was stroking me just moments before, and realize with a gasp it’s now squeezing a gun.
“Logan…” I whimper.
“Go ahead, try it,” taunts Coltello, sinking back in his seat. “Just see what happens next.”
“I’m not going to shoot you,” says Logan steadily, and for the first time, there’s no humor in his voice. “But Iamgoing to tell you to pay up.”
The confusion in Coltello’s eyes echoes my own. “Pay up?”
“For the girl. If you want her, you’re gonna need to pay for her.”
I tense all over.What the fuck?
Just then, Debbie walks back out, carrying two cups and a plate laden with bacon and eggs. She’s tied the sheet around her like a toga, and she sets down the food and drinks with a sullen expression.
Coltello studies his coffee with a disgusted expression. “Think I’ll stick to the whiskey. Want another glass, Colt?”
“Nah, thanks, bro.”
I stare at them both, getting whiplash from the way they seem to be switching from enemy to friend-mode in the space of an instant.
What game are they playing?
“Hold on!” calls out Logan just as Debbie turns around hurriedly, probably looking forward to hiding in the relativesafety of the kitchen. “Stick around, will you?”
Sticking around seems like the last thing Debbie wants to do, but she stays in place, her eyes darting suspiciously between the three of us.
“I was wondering—is this black juice shit supposed to becoffee?—why my girl had you at knifepoint.”
I don’t know whythosewords are the ones that anger me, forcing me out of the grief and anxiety that have had me spiraling. “What the fuck? I’m not your girl!”
SMACK.
This time, it’s not Coltello’s hand on my face that has me reeling, but Logan’s on my ass, as he tilts me toward him and cracks his palm down hard.
“Logan!”
Everything else is momentarily forgotten as humiliation surges through me. I try desperately to wriggle out of his hold and stand up, but my struggle only seems to amuse him. His arms clamp around me, and he holds me to him, the stiffness pressing under my ass telling me just how much he’s enjoying himself.
My face flames with utter mortification when I realize I’m not entirely unbothered myself.
I can’t believe I’m getting turned on by the guy who was sent here to kidnap me. To bring me back by force to my husband. To watch me get torn apart by dogs.
And the worst part is he’s not just going to hand me over. He’s going tosellme.
Yet another tear spills from my eye, and I can’t tell if I want to collapse or stab the asshole when I hear him chuckle softly at the sight of me crying.
“Well?” prompts Logan, turning once more to Debbie. “What did you do to get onmy girl’sbad side?”
“Nothing,” mutters Debbie. “She’s loony, that’s all.”
