Page 137 of House of Lies

Angelo moves in the shadows, but before I can see what he’s doing, Ethan’s massive body eclipses my vision. I tip my head back, staring up at him as tears blur my vision.

I shake my head, yelling through the gag.

He has his back to Angelo.

Shadows hide Ethan’s face, but I don’t need to see his expression to know that he’s upset. His body practically vibrates with fury as he tugs at the tape binding my wrist to the chair.

I guess I can’t blame him for trying to free me first, but why the fuck isn’t he taking off my gag?

It doesn’t matter how hard I yell at him, he’s focused on freeing me from the chair.

There’s a gun in his hand.

But it’s useless if he doesn’t look around.

“Shh,” he whispers when I tug and yank at my bonds, trying to get him to focus on my face. But it’s as if he doesn’t want to look at me, because he abandons his attempt to tear off the duct tape, and crouches so he can untie the knots around my ankles.

Angelo is standing right behind him, grinning like a fucking maniac.

I didn’t know I still had blood left in my face until it drains away.

There’s a large, ornate, golden candlestick in Angelo’s gloved hands.

I scream through my gag, and Ethan looks up at me, frowning.

That’s when he realizes I’m staring at something behind him.

But by then, it’s too fucking late.

Chapter 56

Ethan

Angelo would never have won in a fair fight. He baited me with Cassidy. Waited in the shadows until I let my guard down. Then surprised me with a brutal blow to the back of my head.

I wake up hogtied on my side, my cheek pressed to the cool, clammy ground of Glenmont Manor’s crypt.

Cassidy is weeping softly in her chair a few feet away, but as soon as I move, she gets herself under control. I expect her to yell through the gag, but she just stares at me with big, sad eyes.

Then she squeezes her eyes closed, wincing.

A shoe slams into the small of my back, and I groan as I try to huddle away from the pain.

“Welcome back, old friend,” Angelo says cheerfully, coming to stand in front of me. “You know, it’s taken me a while to figure out how hard to hit someone. Too hard, and they could never wake up. Not hard enough, and they wake up before you’re ready.”

“You fucking let her go,” I growl out.

“Or what?” He crouches in front of me, Smith’s gun dangling from a hand gloved in blue latex.

Fuck.

He prods me with the muzzle. “You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate, Ethan.” He turns, aiming the gun at Cassidy’s head. “I could shoot her right now, and you couldn’t stop me.”

I try not to let that statement get under my skin, but there’s a physical jolt of pain through my heart when Cassidy whimpers and squeezes her eyes closed. I have to get him to concentrate on me, not her.

“So why the hell am I still alive?”

Angelo swings the gun back to me, and thank fuck for that. Relief washes hot and cold over my body.

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