Page 61 of Underground Prince

I didn’t want to know. But I’d left my tote on the table and had no choice but to come closer to him.

My knees wobbled at the flash of silver that he lifted, as he weighted it between his hands.

“This is a revolver. Gorgeous, isn’t she?” His lashes shaded his eyes as he handled the gun.

Any weapon was best left in the hands of anyone but me. Strausen was so marveled by what he held that he was close to kissing it, but if I snatched my bag like I was shaking to do, it would rip him out of his wonder and smack his attention right where I didn’t want it.

“I do not like to lose, you know,” Strausen said.

I backed up, thinking of a million entreaties—please, don’t, let me go—but really, when a weapon was pointed at your face, everything becomes thick and slow, including the ability to speak.

“Saxon takes my money, and with that withdrawal comes a promise. I should be collecting winnings from you, my dear. You should not be asking for my pennies.”

I held my hands up. “Messenger. That’s what I am. Don’t…”

“Shoot?” He cocked the gun. “Oh darling, I at least have to maim you.”

“Sax put you up to this. This—” This had to end. “Brodie!” I screamed.

Nothing. No crashing sound of a door flying open. No plaster raining to the floor as my supposed bodyguard blasted through the walls. Silence.

“Oh dear,” Strausen said. “Soundproofing’s such a bother to those whose sound requires hearing.”

Screw the laptop. Fuck Theo. I hate Brodie. I ran for the door, pounding when I realized it was locked.

“I am not a loser!” Strausen cried behind me.

“Someone!” I called, but didn’t stand around for the door to be unlocked. It was open season where I stood. If Strausen aimed right now he could fell me with one shot.

I crouched down, running around furniture, falling to my knees and crawling behind a couch.

“Stand up and face me!” Strausen yelled, his words thick with saliva. “Coward! You’re worse than I am!”

His shoes appeared in the space between the floor and the bottom of the couch. I sprinted forward, keeping low but leaping for the coffee table with my bag. I was fast. Strausen was still yelling in the direction of the couch, so I came up behind him, whipping the laptop at his head and sending him to the ground. I soared over his moaning body, sprinting for the door just as it opened and Brodie stood there, dumbfounded as I screeched at him to get out of the line of fire.

Laughter sounded behind me. Strausen was on all fours, pushing up to stand, gun dangling but his trigger finger primed to pull.

I pushed at Brodie. “Go!”

“Do stay a while,” Strausen said. He rubbed at the side of his head. “You’re much more entertaining than the last girl.”

If Brodie wasn’t going to move I was going to have to tear through his torso to get to the other side. And I damn well would.

“Wait,” Strausen said.

No way in hell. My knee lifted up.

“If you insist on your exit, here you are.” Strausen appeared at my side and I recoiled, burrowing into Brodie. But he held a plain package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, about the size of a thick paperback.

“My pennies,” Strausen said.

I ignored it.

He shook the package. “Take it, darling, and I’ll let you go.”

I glared at Brodie, who I now suspected was a turncoat, snatching the package and shoving it into my bag with such force that it had to hide my terror. I turned to the door. Expectant.

“You must know, Scarlet, that if I ever laid more than a finger on you, Saxon would have me drawn and quartered.”

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