Page 121 of Love Him Like Water

Because, lord knew, this was not going to be the worst of it.

I blinked back the tears, trying to focus on my surroundings.

It wasn’t some dark, windowless space with no chance for escape. In fact, the entire back wall was lined with old, warehouse-style windows.

The floors—cement—and the walls—brick—weren’t an option.

But there was a door all the way in the back corner.

Maybe it only led to a bathroom or an office.

It was a door, though. To a different room.

One that maybe had a lock.

Or furniture that could be used as a barricade.

Nothing would last forever, of course. I didn’t need forever, though. Just until Renzo could come to find me.

“What now?” the driver asked.

“You gotten in touch with Coal yet?” Michael asked.

“Can’t get him,” the driver said.

“He’s got to have him then,” Michael said.

And suddenly, I was thinking of rushing down the street toward Renzo, who was about to follow several of his men into the building. The building where there’d been crashing noises.

Was that what Renzo had been protecting me from?

Had he picked up one of Michael’s men?

Could he already be onto him?

Maybe even on his way?

Hope was a small, delicate flicker in my chest, but I cupped my hands around it, protected it from blowing out.

Even as Michael barked an order at the driver who reached for me again, this time by the ankles, dragging me across the room. And, yes, closer to that door.

“Pretty thing, ain’t ya?” the driver asked, a dark look in his eyes making a shiver course down my spine. Every woman knew that look. That evil, animal glance. A predator hoping to sink their teeth into their prey.

Michael moved past us, paying no attention as he disappeared into that small room, flicking on a light, and letting me see the corner of what seemed like a desk sitting there.

An office then.

Lots of things could be used as weapons in an office. Pens, scissors, a paper weight.

And with a room that small, I figured if I could turn the desk, it might actually wedge against the door, making it impossible to open.

“Been wondering what Renzo got a taste of to make him lock this down,” the driver said.

Then he was reaching for me, grabbing at me, fingers sliding across skin, yanking at my pants, dragging them down.

I reeled back, kicking out, striking, then sucking in a big breath to scream.

“Hey,” Michael snapped, making the driver release me, his hand still holding my pants, leaving me on the cold floor in my bare feet and panties. But it wasn’t the cold that had a chill moving through me. “Knock that off,” Michael said, and that little flicker of hope inside of me grew a bit as I scooted back until I hit the wall, pulling my knees in, and wrapping my arms around myself. “You can have all the fun you want when Renzo is here to watch,” he added, making my belly bottom out.

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