Page 61 of Vow of Silence

She hesitates, unsteady on her feet, and lifts both hands. “Whatever you say, blondie.”

It would take a hell of a lot for me to get up the courage to pull the trigger—the odds are slim. But she doesn’t need to know that.

“What the fuck are you even here for?” The whites of the man’s eyes show with the effort he puts into peering at Benito behind him. “I know who you are,Janitor. But who’s this whore?”

The man screams out in pain when Benito twists his arm higher between the guy’s shoulders.

“Where’s your car?” I ask, keeping my periphery active on the woman playing coy to my right.

“What do you mean?” He jerks his chin high.

“I mean exactly what I said. What did you do with the car?” Fuck knows why the detail is important, but it’s as though seeing it will alleviate my anxiety that this is all a mistake. That they’re not the men.

The held man’s gaze is black, like a shark. I can’t tell if it’s the piss-weak light in here or the dilation of his pupils, but I can’t pick if his irises are green, blue, or goddamn rainbow-colored for how little shows. “Which car are you talking about, girlie?” He lifts his eyebrows and gives me the type of goddamn condescending look that makes my blood boil.

Like when men think you’re stupid and find it adorable.

“Don’t fuck me around,” I growl through a stiff jaw. “Tell me. Do I look familiar to you?”

The left-most guy on the sofa groans and shifts position. Everyone collectively holds their breath while we wait to see if he’ll wake up.No go.

“I told you, doll face,” the man says once we’re all convinced Sleeping Beauty will stay where he lies. “I don’t know who you are.”

“Perhaps because I should be dead?” The hand on the shotgun trembles with the effort it takes to keep the one trained on the woman steady. “Where were you last Friday?”

He stays quiet, much to Benito’s frustration. My fiancé takes immense pleasure in twisting the man’s arm so high we all hear the pop of his shoulder as it dislocates. The woman to my right gasps, the man hollering with pain while he attempts to kick Benito with his heel.

Sleeping Beauty wakes up.

“Who the fuck…?” The black-haired man scrambles backward and falls over the rear of the sofa. “Imir?” From his vantage point on the threadbare carpet, he stares at the guy with the knife in his eye.

Homeboy Jerry, in Benito’s hold, appears to realize the severity of the situation. We’ve killed one—who’s to say he isn’t next? Sweat dots his brow as he pants through his pain. “The car’s gone, okay? What does it matter?”

Benito shifts the guy so that he’s restrained with one arm. He pins the man against him with a forearm curled over the guy’s chest, a knife held to the man’s throat. The captive’s arms may be free, but one move, and he’s dead.

I shrug as I answer his question. “I wanted to make sure it was really you.”

“What now?” He glances at the woman beside me, which I don’t like one goddamn bit. “You here for your payback, little girl?”

The naked woman shifts on her feet, and I make the mistake of moving my focus to her. The impact from my left knocks the wind clean out of me, and I hit the floor at her feet, Sleeping Beauty covering me from waist to toe.

Another thud sounds as the guy Benito held hits the floor—out cold.

Not a word is said—Sleeping Beauty wrenched off me and thrown against the sofa with a single rough jerk of Benito’s arm. The guy scrambles to his knees, leaning over the cushion while Benito steps over my shoulder to contain the naked woman behind me—incensed and hollering obscenities at the two of us. I frown at first, wondering how Sleeping Beauty thinks burying his head against the sofa will protect him, when it dawns on me that the guy reaches between the cushion and the seat back.

The man knows there’s a damn weapon in there.

“Ben,” I murmur, the strength of my voice lost within my disbelief. “Benito.”

He grunts behind me, and I twist my neck back to get a sideways view of the crazed woman with a fistful of his hair, clawing at his face and neck with her painted talons. It seems a lack of clothing doesn’t dampen her fighting spirit at all.

The guy on the sofa pushes up with one leg, turning as he stands.

His arm swings out.

Benito bends double to get the banshee off his back.

And I pull the trigger.

---