“What’s going on?” I scream, kicking my legs as a firm hand grips my thigh.
“Shhh,” someone whispers just inches from my face.
As my eyes adjust to the light, I stare at the palm pressed against my nose.
He slowly draws his hand away until I’m staring at my own bloody initials carved into his skin.
“Surprise,” Bryan Stanfield laughs, bowing from the waist. “Bet you never thought you’d see me again, huh?”
I cough hard, and the guy behind me laughs.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I yell as his eyes rake over my legs.
“Nothing’s wrong with me, Harps. Except my hand…”
“Is it money you want?” I ask. “Because my dad has loads. You can have whatever you want. Just please let me go and we’ll forget this even happened.”
Bryan smirks and raises his voice. “What do you think, boys? Shall I just ask her daddy for a few grand and let her go?”
More laughter echoes in the cold warehouse, and I can’t shield my eyes when someone shines the spotlight onto me.
“You ain’t going nowhere, Harps,” Bryan scowls.
Trying to appeal to the grain of humanity inside him, I lower my voice.
“Please, Bryan. Why are you doing this to me? Can’t you just?-“
“Quit the little princess routine,” he hisses. “You had your chance at that shitty alumni gala. But you chosehim instead. Didn’t you?”
I shake my head.
“No, Bryan. We broke up.”
“He broke us up!” he screams. “Chris fucking Collins broke us up. And he humiliated me.”
“Me too!” someone in the corner yells, and I turn to spot a guy on crutches holding my phone. “That psycho fucker broke my leg!”
“And he gave me this,” the tall bald guy says, pointing at the gash on his head.
“What are you doing?” I ask the guy on crutches as I feel a sharp blade digging into the side of my neck.
Bryan shuffles beside me and licks my ear.
“He’s taking a photo,” he whispers as the flash blinds my eyes. “Then he’s going to send it to that crazy old man you’re fucking. He’s also sending your location, and I’m guessing he’ll be here within thirty minutes.”
“T-then what?” I stammer.
Bryan smirks. “Payback, Harps. Chris Collins won’t be leaving here tonight.”
While Bryan pulls out a chair, I waggle my wrist to free the phone that Chris gave me.
Rubbing my thumb over the tiny buttons, I decide against calling Chris. He’s crazy enough to drive here alone, and he’s outnumbered by these tooled-up psychos.
So I suck in a deep breath and hold down number two.
Pick up, Dad. Pick up, pick up…
“What’s that noise?” Bryan asks as I cough hard to drown out the dial tone. “Someone’s phone ringing?”
Hearing my father’s voicemail, I clear my throat.
“Chris Collins won’t just show up to a trap alone!” I shout. “He’s an ex-soldier, so he’ll know you all have weapons and?-“
“Sneaky fucking bitch!” the bald guy snarls, kicking the phone from my hand. “Why did no one check her?”
Bryan drags his chair across the floor, slamming it down in front of me.
He then sits down and tilts his head, grabbing my face in his hands.
Oh God. This is it. They won’t get here in time.
The cold blade of a knife runs up the inside of my thigh.
“You just made this a whole lot worse for yourself, Harper…”
THIRTY
Chris
Grabbing the pack of loose rose petals from the shelf, I toss them into my basket and make my way to the counter.
“Someone’s getting lucky,” the middle-aged shop clerk says, winking at me.
Like you wouldn’t believe.
As she’s scanning the scented candles, my phone rings and I pull it from my pocket.
Fuck.
Mark Reeves flashes on my screen and the store clerk chuckles.
“If it’s work, I’d ignore it,” she says. “Don’t want to be spoiling your evening, do you?”
“Nope,” I say, switching my phone on silent.
As soon as the call ends, it flashes with a voicemail notification.
I can’t talk to Mark tonight.
Especially with what I’m planning to do with his only daughter.
Mark Reeves has never been early or late for any appointment we’ve ever had. If he says he’s going to be there at nine, he’s there bang on nine and not a minute before.
He’s already told me he’s due back at midday tomorrow, so I’ll discuss whatever he wants to talk about when he comes home.
The next few hours are mine and Harper’s.
Sliding my phone into my pocket, I pull out a twenty-dollar bill and hand it to her.
“Keep the change,” I say.
“Oh how kind,” she beams. “Are you su?-“
“Don’t make any sudden movements,” some guy says behind me. “No one gets hurt if you just do what I say.”
For fuck’s sake, not tonight…
“Don’t reach for nothing!” the guy yells as I slowly turn to him.
Jeez. He hasn’t even covered his face.
The pistol shakes in his hand as he points it at my head.
“Just put the fucking gun down,” I tell him.
“No!” he snaps, angry spittle congealing on his lips. “Empty the till, lady.”
“Did you not even bring a bag?” I ask him.
“What for?”
I sigh. “The money you’re about to steal.”
“I need a bag as well!” he yells to the store clerk.
The clean-shaven, sun-tanned guy looks somewhere in his early thirties, and the only thing that troubles me is how nervous he is. Panic and guns are never a good combination.
“Relax,” I tell him, lifting one hand.
If the shop clerk weren’t here, he’d already be unconscious by now, but I don’t want to put her in any danger.
“Do what he says,” I tell her, staring at the young man.
I hear the till ping and the rustle of cash behind me.
“Here,” she says, and I reach behind me to grab the bag before tossing it to him.
Testing his resolve, I pull back my cuff and check the time.
“How much is in here?” he yells, not taking his eyes off me.
“Three hundred and twelve dollars,” the clerk tells him. “It’s all we have. The till is empty.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.