Page 37 of Contracted

“I have a car waiting for us outside,” Jarrod said.

I nodded stiffly, my heels clicking across the mosaic floor as I hurried toward the huge sliding doors. An indoor fountain tinkled into a pool filled with koi, but I barely noticed. I was on a mission to get out of the casino as fast as possible.

“Jarrod? Miss? Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine,” Jarrod grunted. “Get back to your desk, Sally.”

“Of course, sir,” she said in a cool voice.

I wasn’t focused on the woman or her and Jarrod’s strained work dynamic, I was focused only on getting out of the casino. I stepped outside, but had to suck in a strangled breath at the tall buildings looming over me like scary sentinels.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Jarrod said as he opened the passenger door and gestured for me to get in.

I climbed into the back seat as he slid in beside me and reached out to pat my knee as I clipped on my seatbelt. “You’ll be fine.”

Nausea swirled in my stomach. I hadn’t had an anxiety attack this bad in years. Perhaps that was why I didn’t register for a minute that the driver had stayed behind the wheel, the same driver who pulled away without asking where we wanted to go.

“How far away are we from the Botanic Gardens?” I croaked.

Jarrod smiled amiably. “Thirty minutes at most.”

I fished my cell out of my clutch bag with shaky hands.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ve got a text.” Not that it was any of his business.

I opened the message and read it with a shaky inhalation.

Don’t go anywhere with Jarrod. Your instincts were right.

My cell rang and I answered the call with a shaky voice. “Serafino, I’m sorry. It’s too late, I—“

A sharp prick in my neck cut off anymore words, my voice failing and my strength non-existent as my cell fell to the car’s floor as if in slow motion. Darkness pressed down on me and I slumped forward. Then...nothing.

*

I woke with a sharp inhalation, instantly aware I was in the same car I’d been in earlier even before I cracked open my eyes. Except the ride was no longer smooth, I was getting jostled, the now one-lane road ahead rougher, the neighborhood seedier with rundown buildings and warehouses either side,

My pulse drummed louder in my ears. I remembered answering my phone after I’d read Serafino’s text, then—

Fuck.

Understanding was an arrow straight through my consciousness even before I focused my gritty stare on the man sitting loose-limbed next to me, a gun sitting on his thigh, its muzzle pointed my way.

“I was beginning to think you were never going to wake.” Jarrod smirked. “I didn’t want you to miss seeing your own demise.”

“Why would you want that?” I gritted. “What have I ever done to you?”

He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “You’ve done nothing, and that’s the crux of the problem. You fuck men like Serafino to get ahead, while hardworking soldiers like myself get overlooked. Every. Single. Time.”

I blinked. “You’re the director of the Agostino casino.”

His lips flattened. “I want more.” He patted his jacket pocket. “I want money. Prestige. Notoriety. To get that, I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago. I’m taking charge of my destiny and grabbing any opportunity with both hands.”

“Do you really think you’ll get away with kidnapping me? If Serafino doesn’t kill you, the Irish mafia will dispose of you quicker than you can put your hand out for your blood money.”

I noted the driver’s cynical smirk. He clearly agreed with my theory. A pity Jarrod hadn’t noticed. He had his eyes firmly on the prize, his tunnel vision making him blind to anything else.

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