Page 14 of Peyton's Price

“The company went belly up last year,” Dylan said. “I got another coding job, but they cut me loose. After that, I couldn’t get another job.”

“But good programmers are in demand,” she protested with an anxious glance at the man behind her. He didn’t have a gun in hand, but instinct told her that he was armed.

“He made more money selling our drugs. The hours were better. He had it made,” the man said with a thin smile. “At least until he decided it was easier to rob them.”

“I told you I didn’t steal anything. The bag was stolen.” Dylan’s tone was petulant.

She still didn’t understand. “Marijuana is legal now. How lucrative can it be getting into the illegal drug trade when dispensaries are opening up all over the state?”

“You’d be surprised,” the stranger said. “People still want variety and the newest greatest high.”

Peyton measure the distance to the door longingly. “You make designer drugs,” she guessed.

“And your friend lost a backpack full of our best merchandise,” the man said, making air quotes around lost. “It was worth two hundred Gs. Luckily, he’s found a way to make amends.”

“I can make the cash back some other way. You don’t need her.”

The man laughed. It was harsh and ugly. “This was your idea. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now.”

The neurons in her brain were firing too slow. Eventually, though, enough dots connected to realize they meant her.

“What?” Peyton tried to stand, only to be forced down by the goon behind her.

Pain flared in her neck. At first, she thought his hold had pinched a nerve. But the cold feeling seeping into her skin wasn’t horror. She’d been jabbed with a needle.

The liquid in the syringe flooded her system, sapping her energy. Struggling against the restraining hand, she tried to open her mouth to scream, but the big man clapped his meaty hand over her mouth.

The suited man’s expression grew calculated. “She’s a bit too old for the auction block, but if she is as you said, we might make our money back fast. If she’s not, then it’s going to take some time. Either way, consider this a down payment only—if I were you, I’d hit the bricks and start making back our money now.”

Her vision was darkening quickly. Dylan stared at her, his eyes narrowed and tight as he blinked rapidly. She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but something quite different came out.

“Liam is going to k-kill you,” she slurred before passing out.

Chapter 8

Liam sat at his desk, fingering the charm bracelet in his pocket as his mind wandered, replaying the night he saw Peyton in front of her home. He couldn’t forget the way she stared at him, as if he were a stranger.

Or like someone she used to know but wanted nothing to do with now.

She was only tired,he told himself. He’d surprised her after a long day at work when she was exhausted and hungry. The next time, he’d call in advance and make reservations at a five-star restaurant, something near her work so she could meet him easily.

He’d find one where they could both walk over. There was less chance she’d back out that way.

“Liam, are you listening to me?”

He frowned at Caroline. “No,” he said curtly.

His beautiful fiancée scowled. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother.”

Snapping the folder on her lap shut, she stood. “It’s as if you don’t care what our wedding is going to look like.”

This was an old argument. Stifling a sigh, he picked up the book displaying vases. He’d been told they were to hold the centerpieces at each table. “I don’t see why you aren’t going over this with the Caislean’s wedding planning team. They’re exceptionally good at what they do. God knows that’s why I pay them so much.”

“I know they’re good, but I want our wedding to have a certainje ne sais quoi.” She reached over to brush lint off his shoulder. “It may be the merger of two hotel dynasties, but it also needs to include a few personal touches—things that are both meaningful and sophisticated. People will be expecting more from us. Our wedding has to be new and surprising.”

Liam groaned. He knew this was what he’d signed up for when he’d agreed to marry Caroline, but now that he was facing the minutiae of stationary and beribboned flower choices, he wanted to crawl out of his skin. “Well, if you want surprising, let’s shock them and elope.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “You know perfectly well that my father would have a heart attack if we did that. Our wedding has to be the event of the century.”

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