Page 11 of These Deadly Vows

This has always been a possibility.

That someone far stronger or smarter would make their move.

All I can do is lay here and accept my fate.

There’s no escaping.

There is no cheating the stars.

I try to get into a comfortable position, but there is no comfort in being abducted.

If my mouth weren’t covered in duct tape, I’d demand he at least tell me where he’s taking me.

You’d think having committed murder and kidnapping someone, he’d be driving like a bat flying out of Hell. Not obeying every traffic law.

The murderous maniac doesn’t spare me another glance until we arrive at our destination.

Our destination is an underground parking garage.

The left back passenger door flings open, and a hand grips my ankles. “I’m going to cut these,” he gives the plastic ties a jerk, “don’t get any bright ideas,” my abductor warns.

I doubt I’d get far, presently. Pins and needles are shooting up and down my arms and legs from my awkward and cramped position. I’m not sure if I can even stand. The tight binding has cut the blood supply off to my feet.

The moment the blade of his knife slices through the plastic, instant relief floods my senses.

Sliding my ass to the edge of the seat, the asshole sits me upright as he continues to cut the ties securing my wrists.

“This will hurt,” his voice comes out softer, almost as if he cares about inflicting any pain. His rough, calloused fingers brush my cheek. There’s a gentleness as he proceeds peeling one corner of the tape. He yanks quickly. The adhesive rips from my skin loudly, breaking the skin on my lip.

I flinch and let out a hissing sound.

His thumb swipes across my lip, smearing the blood to my ear as he studies my face.

“Prettier up close,” he murmurs.

I jerk away, creeped out that he’s been spying on me. How long has he been planning this and how did he go undetected for so long? There’s no time to think about it because he slides me out of the vehicle.

“You good to walk on your own?”

I nod and immediately my knees give out. He catches me before I plant face first on the cement. I stare into his dark eyes, unable to read his mood.

He glances away first, putting an end to our staring contest. I lean against him for support, hating that I need to. He grips me at the elbow, forcing me into a nearby elevator as more blackened out vans and motorcycles roar up, pulling into their designated spots.

A sea of mean ass bikers meets my terrified gaze as I shake my limbs and wiggle my fingers as the doors close. I regain my feeling and ability to stand without support. Only now do I get a better look at my captor. Dark slicked backed hair with a square scarred jaw. He’d be a handsome devil if he wasn’t an enemy who may possibly murder me.

The elevator stops on the twentieth floor and opens to a bilevel penthouse apartment.

The first thing I notice is the view. The second is that we’re not alone. There’s armed men and three women all staring at me clad in nothing other than my bloody pajamas.

These bikers have money to afford a penthouse like this.

I know because my father owns two.

When I think about bikers, I’ve always envisioned the underbelly of the city. Not luxury.

“Take her upstairs,” my kidnapper barks, and the next thing I know, I’m being escorted to the second level of the apartment.

Knees shaking, heart beating a million miles a minute, I stare at the blood splattering my clothes and my hands. None of it belongs to me, thankfully.

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