Page 50 of Sold on Them

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Damon yells, obviously struggling in his seat. “Leave her the fuck alone.”

Carlos chuckles, the sound malevolent against my skin. He’s closer than he was, his breath ghosting across the bare skin of my stomach. “The two of you still think you’re going to get away, don’t you? We’re the fucking Santiago Cartel—no one gets away from us. If Hilton had been in my hands, he never would’ve escaped us either. None of you will be leaving here today. You might as well accept it now. Or don’t. It doesn’t make a difference to me either way.”

I flinch when a finger trails down my neck before a hand gropes my tit entirely too hard. All I want to do is vomit. I wonder how Carlos would respond to me throwing up all over him. It might be interesting to find out.

My eyes pop open at the sound of gunshots—or at least I think they’re gunshots. I’ve only ever heard them on television shows and movies, so I can’t be sure. Carlos snarls, releasing my breast as he pushes to his feet.

“They’re in the goddamn building. Why wasn’t I notified before? Go find out what the hell is going on.” Carlos shakes his head as the four men who are still in the room hurry toward thedoor. “It seems like Hilton has decided to finally show his face. Maybe if I get the two of you screaming, he’ll come running a little faster.”

“I don’t recommend that.”

My head jerks to the doorway at the sound of Parker’s voice, finding him, Cormac, and Royce standing there. They’re all in black tactical gear with guns in their hands—all trained on Carlos.

Before I get a chance to relax, Carlos is behind me with the machete at my throat. I hold still, afraid that any move on my part could spell my end.

“It’s over, Alvarez. Your men are dead—you’re the only one still standing. There’s no way out of this for you, but if you hurt another hair on her head, I can promise you’ll regret it,” Cormac growls. “Unless you want a slow and torturous death, then I’m happy to deliver it.”

I glare at him. Is he taunting the man with a knife at my throat? I might not have any experience in these types of situations, but something tells me that’s not the way we should go about it.

“Step away from her,” Royce adds as he takes a step closer.

Carlos growls. “I have a better idea. Why don’t I get her out of her restraints, then the two of us can leave. You won’t kill me when I have a knife to her neck.”

“Oh, we have no intention of killing you,” Parker says casually. “At least not anytime soon. The length of time between now and when we kill you will only get longer if you hurt her in any way.”

“He’s already hurt her, assholes. Unless you think she asked to be stripped in front of strangers,” Damon barks out, eyes remaining on me. “Will you get me the fuck out of the goddamn chair, please?”

Royce snickers, his gun still fixed on Carlos as he unsheathes a knife and cuts through Damon’s ties. “Get behind us.”

“Like hell I’m hiding behind the three—“

“Get the fuck behind us, so he can’t use you as a shield as well.” Cormac’s bark is harsher than Damon’s, and he begins moving immediately—probably without thinking about it. I know it’s what I would’ve done.

Carlos sighs. “It seems we’re at a standstill. I have no intention of moving from behind this woman that you seem so keen on saving, and you’re not planning to let me go.”

“He knows you were framed, Parker,” Damon calls from behind the three of them. “I’ll bet he’s the one behind it.”

“I’m sure he is,” Parker grumbles.

Carlos laughs, the machete moving slightly, and I’m not able to bite back my whimper as I feel it press into my skin. Something warm trickles down my neck—blood. It has to be blood. I’m going to die here, aren’t I?

Tears spill down my cheeks as my eyes fall shut.

I’m not ready to die. Ijustgot Parker and Damon back. Life can’t be this cruel, can it?

“I’d say I’m sorry for framing you, but it’s nothing personal.” Carlos snorts. “An associate of mine had your fingerprint and some of your blood—though I’m still not sure how they got that. It’s what I needed to pin Rosalie’s death on someone else. I certainly couldn’t allow Santos to know I was the one who killed his wife. After all, he’d just have killed me, and that would’ve defeated the purpose.”

“Defeated what purpose?” one of the men asks, though I can’t place who it is. I’m just too fucking terrified to focus on silly things like who’s speaking when one slip of this asshole’s hand means I’m going to die.

“I wanted Rosalie out of the way, so that things could go back to the way they were.” Carlos’s laughter doesn’t sound so amused anymore. “When this is said and done either all of youwill be dead or I will be, so why not just share the story with you?”

Royce scoffs. “As much as I love a good storytime, you’ve already cut Mackenzie’s throat. Why don’t you step back just a bit, so you don’t do it again? Or, even better, why don’t you let her go?”

“And risk my one chance at freedom? I think not.” He steps closer, his front pressing into my back. “Now, do you want to hear that story or not?”

I have no desire to hear the story, but I don’t think I’m going to get much choice in the matter.

How much longer until the machete cuts even deeper now that I’ve begun trembling? I can’t seem to make it stop, much too terrified at the thought of dying right here in front of two men I love and two men that I could love one day.

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