Page 88 of Corrupt Me

“I didn’t stop to ask his name.” This sarcasm was going to get me in trouble. The more scared I got, the sharper my tongue seemed to lash.

“You should have asked for directions because you, little minx, have come to the wrong place for help. Move it.” Without waiting for me to comply, my captor hauled me toward the side door.

Tristan, you better be fucking in there.“So, I guess using your phone to call a friend is out of the question?” The metal door clanged closed behind us feeling like a prison cell, locking me inside with a bunch of criminals.

“That’s for the boss to decide,” he said with a bone-chilling smirk.

I tripped over my feet, but the beefcake held me up. Blowing the hair out of my face, I gained my footing. “Huh. I thought for sure you ran things around here. My mistake.”

“Move it, minx.” He gave me a shove and not too gently either, sending me stumbling into the open space and nearly running into a metal pole.

I grabbed it for support, my mind whirling while my breathing came out shallow and uneven.Not an ideal situation. But I’m not dead yet.Clinging to the pole, I took in my surroundings, desperate for someone or something to help me. Tristan’s name sat on the tip of my tongue, ready to be screamed, and it should have probably been the first thing I did.

Cold concrete covered the floor, which I imagined made cleaning up blood easier. The warehouse was vast, a hollow shell of what it once had been. Moonlight filtered through the ceiling windows, casting ghostly beams of light across half a dozen cars parked inside and stacks of dusty, forgotten crates. My heart pounded in my ears, almost drowning out the subtle creak of the door behind me. This place looked like a cross between something fromFast and FuriousandBreaking Bad.

“Who’s this?” a man with a gruff voice said, and I spun my head in his direction. I had no idea what to expect. Perhaps a shaved head. Scary muscles. Even scarier tattoos. Scruffy facial hair. Although he did have some tattoos, he had a pretty-boy face, except for the scar that slashed across his cheek, but it didn’t take away from his striking features. He had raven hair, but whereas Tristan’s was like a starless sky, this man’s was warmer than cooler. Looks could be deceiving, and seeing cruelty in his deep-brown eyes, I would be stupid to discard him as harmless.

“I found her,” Beefcake answered, ratting me out.

Scarface shoved off the sparkling Lamborghini he’d been perched against. “What do you mean youfoundher?”

“She was sneaking around outside. I thought you might have a few uses for such a pretty thing. I didn’t want her to go to waste,” Beefcake explained, his wide body blocking my escape. The only way now was forward.

Scared, angry, and bewildered, I lashed out with my best defense mechanism. Sarcasm. “Are you looking for a pat on the back from your boss? I didn’t peg you for such an ass-kisser,” I mumbled to the asshole corralling me like a damn sheep.

He grabbed my waist in a bruising grip, tearing me away from the pole. “Shut up. Your attitude is no longer cute,” he muttered into my ear, his hot breath slimy on my skin.

“But you still think I’m pretty,” I snarkily retorted even though I knew it would cost me. I braced for the pain.

Grubby fingers twined into my hair, pulling my head so the column of my neck was exposed. “Give me two minutes alone with you, and I’ll show you how pretty I think you are.”

Revulsion surged, disgust gagging the back of my throat.

“Enough!” Scarface barked, his voice echoing like a blowhorn through the warehouse. “Put her in the back room until I’m done. And make sure she doesn’t escape.” He sounded annoyed with the disruption.

Now was the time to start resisting. The back room didn’t sound like a place I wanted to be locked in.Where the fuck is Tristan?

I’d been so damn sure he would pop out and save me. It was the sole reason I hadn’t gone into full-blown panic and could keep some of my wits about me. But now…the longer time stretched with me in the clutches of the mafia, the swifter my confidence plummeted…rapidly.

I twisted away from Beefcake, trying to dislodge his hold on me. Thinking quickly, I slammed my foot atop his and managed to break free while he let a curse fly. Whirling, I searched for a place to run since the asshole blocked the entrance we entered,but my reprieve from his clutches was short-lived. I hadn’t put enough space between us to stop his sausage fingers tangling into my hair again. One second, I was moving forward, and the next, I was pitching backward, searing pain erupting at my scalp.

I yelped, making the mistake of trying to loosen his iron grip. He had me against his chest, pinned with arms like a viper, squeezing tighter the harder I struggled.

“She’s with me.” A deep, ominous voice I recognized well cut through the warehouse.

I froze, knee-trembling relief whipping through me like a hurricane.

Thank fucking god.

“Tristan,” I whispered, my eyes finding him in the corner of the warehouse, standing beside the boss.

His expression shimmered with cold violence. “I thought I told you to stay in the car, Shortcake.”

“Yeah, if I wanted to be murdered. Someone is following us.” The confession flew out of my mouth, regret making me wince. “Shit,” I mumbled under my breath, feeling muscles behind me stiffen.

Grim confusion infiltrated his blue eyes. “Following us? Who?”

In another situation, I would have rolled my eyes, but with the amount of fear swimming in my veins, I couldn’t muster the effort. “If I knew who, do you think I would look so scared?”

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