Page 33 of Bound in Debt
What in the world is he talking about?
I need to know, but I refuse to ask because there’s a bullet inside that gun and I don’t want to meet it.
But this explains everything.
The constant push to get married. The way Liam refused to accept my answer and announced our engagement anyways. He’s after my damn trust fund.
“My boss wants to know when he can have his money.”
“I…” I have no clue how things like this work. My first thought is that Liam gambled away money he didn’t have to lose. He loves sports and goes to the bar quite often to watch them. I can just see his stupid ass getting into some shit.
“I need an answer, little girl,” the man presses on. “Because my boss has other plans for you if we’re gonna keep going round and round.”
“I don’t… How? How did this happen?”
“I wasn’t there for the deal, doll. I’m just the muscle. And this bullet is for you if I don’t get an answer.”
What the hell?
He’s going to shoot me if I don’t give him a date?
“I…uh…I don’t get married…” My gut violently twists on a wave of nausea and I swallow back the bile in my throat.
“Speak English, girl,” the man barks back. “I don’t have all night unless you’re showing me that pretty pussy.” My entire body recoils at his disgusting words, but that only makes him take a step closer. “Unless that’s what you want. A dark fuck where you can’t see my face while you’re screaming around my thick cock?”
This man is obviously delusional if he thinks I’m that desperate for dick.
“I don’t get married for a month,” I finally force from my lips. “My trust fund?—”
“You got thirty hours until my boss starts sending out men to kill either you, Liam, or his whore-ass mother.”
If he thinks I care about Marissa or Liam, he obviously wasn’t paying attention. Still, I wouldn’t wish murder on anyone.
“That’s not enough time,” I mutter. “I’m not sure how I’m going to get?—”
“Not our fuckin’ problem. If Angelo doesn’t get his funds, all hell is gonna break loose. I mean…look at what happened to Liam’s old man.”
My eyes bulge from my head because he only died six months ago.
A car accident.
But how would this man know about Liam’s dad?
“Figure it out,” he orders, taking a step back. “I know where you go to school now, darlin’. And, the next time I see ya…we’re gonna get physical.”
In a surge of desperation, I bolt forward, sprinting with everything I have. He shouts after me, and I’m terrified that he’s going to shoot me in the back, but I take my chances and keep running.
My heart is threatening to slam out of my chest, and I can’t breathe, but I have to make it to my dorm. Somewhere I can put a locked door between me and this absolute shitshow. I don’t know what just happened, what I’ve somehow gotten involved in, but I know I have to keep moving.
The slap of my shoes on pavement is reassuring, just a bit further now?—
Rounding a corner into a courtyard, I slam into a hard body, knocking the last bit of air from my lungs as I bounce back.
I desperately try to suck in oxygen as the dark silhouette comes toward me. Rearing up, I slam my fist forward in a quick jab.
“What the hell?” My hand is stopped by a wall of muscle and it only takes a millisecond to recognize that voice as I blink. My fear is immediately replaced with dread.
I just assaulted a Thronewood professor. The only one that can’t stand me, no less.
