Page 78 of The Devil's Pawn

“Hi. I’m sorry I don’t know your names, but do you mind?” I gesture toward the door with an outstretched hand. “I have a food delivery coming.”

“I’m Elliot, ma’am. We can get it for you,” says the tall one, who’s probably in his late twenties.

The other is a little older, maybe early forties. I wonder if they’re one of the ones who heard me come by the pool.

Oh, God. I can’t think about that now.

Clearing my throat, I grin. “I’m sure you can.” My eyes dart between them. “But I’ll be two seconds. You can even watch…”

My face grows hot, eyes widening.

“Me. You can watch me…uh, get the food,” I stammer, swallowing against the lump now wedged in my throat.

Holy fuck. I can’t even get it together before my damn help shows.

The younger one lets out a bit of a chuckle. “All right. Go ahead. We’ll try not watching too close.”

He winks, and it takes some willpower to keep my mouth from dropping wide as he opens the door for me. Both of them walk out, their boots stomping over the concrete before they pause on the steps leading down onto the street.

So they did hear me!Ugh! This is awful.

I groan with utter humiliation, inhaling the scent of freshly cut grass. I should be glad I’ll never see them again…but I’ll never see Dante again either.

Why should I care? What’s wrong with me that I can’t help but miss him already?

Was it really all pretend? Even after he got to know me?

It didn’t feel like that when I was wrapped in his arms. When he held me. I felt like I mattered. Like he cared.

Could he really have been doing all of that if he didn’t have any feelings for me? Is he that much of a monster?

I don’t have time to consider any of it, nor am I willing to stay to delve into the secrets he’s so good at keeping. We’re done.

Before I have time to contemplate any more, tires screech in the near distance, dragging closer until a white van lurches to a stop.

My heart pounds as the men behind me take steps forward, footfalls crunching over the gravel. I jog toward the van just as the door slides open, and a man with a black mask hops out, pistol raised at Dante’s men.

I don’t have a moment to scream or run back to safety. His hand stretches to my arm, grasping it roughly and pulling me up against him, my back to his front.

Pop.

Pop.

Bullets fly from his weapon toward Dante’s men, the suppressor on. I try to duck as one whizzes past me toward the van, and fear begins to settle heavily over me.

Dante’s guys rush toward us, continuing to shoot back, and more run from inside the house at full speed, but they’re all too late. The masked man continues to fire, dragging me into the van and closing the door behind him before someone else guns the engine. Bullets strike at the vehicle, but it does nothing to stop us.

This isn’t what I wanted! I should never have agreed to get my mother’s help.

Once I focus on my surroundings, I notice four other masked men inside, taking up the bench seating. They all look up at me silently.

My muscles freeze as panic swells within me. Something isn’t right.

The van speeds down the road at a dangerous pace. My body rattles from the force as I stand. The man who dragged me inside is still behind me, his arm curled around my front, his rough exhales swarming up my neck.

My pulse thrashes in my ears while terror like I’ve never felt causes me to break out in a sweat.

Boom.

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