What the hell was wrong with this guy? Trust him? Like hell. “Trust you?” I panted. “Sure, to kidnap me—“
“You hopped in the car yourself.”
“To bring me to some god forsaken place—“ My voice rose in anger.
“You did seem to be enjoying the role of my girlfriend.”
Ignore that smile and those dimples. Stay pissed off.
“Which was probably going to get me killed,” I shot back, glaring at him.
"Oh, babe," he said and reached out to touch my arm. "I'm not gonna let you get hurt."
I forced myself not look at him, but, dammit, his fingers were full of electricity, and then, I couldn’t help it, but my voice cracked. Just a little. And in spite of myself I felt my eyes water. Oh, double damn, I was turning into a complete girl.
My cat, I thought. My elderly, diabetic, half-blind cat would now die a slow, painful death and nobody would even go looking for me until her body was stinking up the hallway outside of my apartment. That’s how my life would end, my neighbors standing around the hallway, shaking their heads at what a pathetic life I had.
“Beth,” Jack’s voice was soft. Almost as soft as the hand he held up to my cheek and the finger that whisked away the tear that had just started to fall.
Sure, I thought, I trust you. What the hell, I thought; and nodded at him.
“Okay, follow my lead,” he said and opened the door. “C’mon.”
He walked out into the hallway where Madame Asia stood sentry and I wondered how much she’d heard. “I hope you have a plan,” she hissed at Jack.
He nodded, checked his grin, and ducked his head before I heard him say, loudly enough for everyone else to hear, “Forget it, Beth, no, I won’t stand for that!”
Huh? I’d missed a memo.
He glanced back at me where I stood in the doorway and winked. “C’mon,” he whispered.
“Please, Jack.” I figured that line worked no matter what he was talking about.
“I said ‘No!’”
I hurried to catch up to him. The panic in my eyes that Vito and Mario or whoever the VIPs were saw was real. If he left me here . . . I stole a look behind me at Madame Asia who rolled her eyes.
“You’ll pay for this!” Jack’s voice thundered back at me and for the first time today I felt fear. Real honest to god down to my toes terror. How had I let myself get into this? I didn’t know him at all or where I was or--
He grabbed my waist roughly and put his mouth up close to my ear. “Don’t screw this up.”
I swallowed hard and nodded at him.
The room was silent, none of the men said a word, and the women who worked there were backing away towards the bar or the hallway.
“Hey, buddy, cool down.” It was Spooner offering a joint to Jack.
“Who wants her?” He shoved me roughly in front of him and I felt the men’s eyes on me. His hand was hard in the small of my back. “Nobody?” At some point he’d taken his gun out of the holster and was pointing it at possible takers.
“She’s got your bun in her oven,” Spooner muttered.
“Not so sure it’s mine.”
Oh, great, this non-baby baby’s parentage was now in question. If only I’d had all the recent sex this implied. “Oh, baby,” I half-turned and murmured to him. He’d told me to play along. So I was. “I don’t want anybody but you.” Sadly, that was true.
“I don’t believe that, you bitch!”
Oh, holy crap. This wasn’t good. He looked really angry. Furious. Just my luck—hot guy is mentally ill—and from the look on his face he seemed to really believe that the baby, the baby that I wasn’t carrying, wasn’t his.
“No fighting here,” Spooner said, after taking a long drag on the joint. I felt an urge to ask for a hit. “You gotta scram. Now.”
“Fine!” Jack yelled. From his tone I was sure he was thinking of a different word starting with “f”. I knew I was.
I nearly tripped as he pushed me through the door. The bright sun blinded me and I was startled to realize it was still daytime. The door slammed shut behind us and he propelled me forward, his hand in the small of my back.
"Wait just a second," I said, straightening myself up and trying to dig in my heels all at the same time. "What's with changing your story? Again."
“You did perfect back there, baby,” Jack said, his voice soft and his arm gently guiding me away from the house and completely ignoring my anger. “They’re all terrified of my--”
“Shitstorm in the making?” I said, echoing Madame Asia. I tried to glare at him but it didn't take.
“Yeah,” he laughed.
“I can see why.” I was still shaky, but I was relieved to see his gun was back in the holster. And that his dimples were back when he grinned.
“It’s all an act, Beth. But I knew it was our only way to get out of there.”
“Okay,” I nodded, glad to be out of the dark and gloom, away from the smoke and bedbugs.
“Let’s get to the van and get the hell outta—Oh, shit!”
“What?” I looked up.
My van was gone.
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