Page 3 of Lord of Ruin

I tried to scream but the sound was cut off when he slammed his thick forearm against my throat, cutting off my air supply. I fought with him against the advice of experts providing tidbits on staying alive when mugged. But I wasn’t the kind of girl to play demure or nice, doing what I could to pull his arm away while kicking him in the shins.

“Stop moving, bitch, or it’ll be your last day on earth.” The guy’s deep voice was ragged, as if he’d had one too many cigarettes in his life. But it was louder than I would have thought. I started to wheeze, stars floating in front of my eyes as I was slowly being suffocated. “Just be quiet and maybe I’ll let you live.” His angry hiss was followed by the bastard placing the barrel of a weapon against my temple.

While another wave of terror skipped through me like wildfire, I refused to lose my wits. That’s how victims were killed. As he started pulling me further into the shadows, I made it as difficult as possible.

There was sudden movement near the three trees in the center of the cracked concrete courtyard, a blur that I couldn’t make out until I heard his voice.

“Tha stamatoúsa akrivós ekeí.”

The language was one I didn’t recognize entirely, although if I had to guess, I’d say it was like the Greek I’d heard at one of my favorite restaurants. As he walked under one of the decorative-style pole lights near the single bench, I was in awe of the man. It was as if I was staring at Adonis, his appearance that of a Greek god. He had to be at least six and a half feet tall with shoulder-length, thick dark hair. I couldn’t see his eyes, but in my mind, they were glowing as if he was some kind of crazed superhero.

“Fuck off.”

“I said,” the second guy hissed, “if you let her go and follow my orders, I might let you live.”

Was he really going to save my life?

My instinct told me he was just another bad guy and I’d been caught in the middle of a turf war. He was dressed in a suit as opposed to the hoodie and jeans my assailant was wearing; the moment seemed out of place even for the Big Apple. While I couldn’t make out his features, what I could see clearly was the weapon he had in both hands of his outstretched arms.

“You’re a fucking fool if you think I’m going to follow your orders and stop. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Then you die,” he said in English, his deep voice penetrating my eardrums, the sultry sound splashing over me like a protective blanket.

There was no further discussion, no ugly comments back and forth. The man standing maybe ten yards in front of me simply fired his weapon once.

But that was enough.

It took me a few seconds to realize what had actually occurred but I only fully understood when the assailant’s arm started to slip away, his body hitting the blocked concrete with a hard thud. I stumbled forward, slapping both hands across my mouth as I peered down at his dead body. If I were to give the other marksman points for accuracy, he’d top a ten given the bullet wound was centered perfectly in the asshole’s forehead.

I might be in some kind of shock, but my mama hadn’t raised a fool. I’d just witnessed a murder, which meant the guy who might have saved my life would end up needing to strip it away to keep me quiet. So, I did what any smart, red-blooded chickie would do.

I took off running.

And screaming.

As if that would matter. No one cared about a girl fighting off an attacker. Not in this city.

I hadn’t anticipated that the hulking mass of a man would be so fast, grabbing me from behind just as the other jerk had done, slapping his hand over my mouth. When he pulled me against his hard body, I shuddered from his possessive and dangerous hold as well as a sick series of tingling sensations.

“Now, if I remove my hand, you’re going to promise not to scream. Yes?” His dangerous tone was whispered in my ear, his hot breath cascading down the side of my neck. I couldn’t stop shaking as I dug my fingers into his massive, chiseled arm.

All I could do was nod slightly.

“Good girl.” He slowly lowered his hand, wrapping it around my throat instead, but his hold was more about possession, not a direct threat. Still, I had a feeling he could easily snap my neck if he so decided. “Now, who are you?”

Was he kidding me? Did he think I was somehow involved in this brutal game? When I didn’t answer him immediately, he nuzzled against my ear, laughing in a dark and dangerous way.

“We’re going to try that one more time, sweetheart, and I suggest you answer the question. Who. Are. You?”

He didn’t release me, but I was easily able to talk, even though a lump the size of a grapefruit had formed in my throat. “I’m… I’m a veterinarian leaving work. My clinic is behind us.” My voice was shakier than it had been before, my pulse racing as it should be. How was I going to get out of this? How?

“You’re a vet?”

“Yes,” I hissed.

“Take me to your clinic.” He pressed the weapon into my side as a reminder of who and what he was.

“Why?”

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