Page 5 of Heartless Sinner

“Dad!” I break into a sprint, launching toward the kitchen. Once again not thinking about my safety.

All I can see is the brutish man pointing his gun at my father and his boot connecting with his stomach again and again and again.

I rush inside but a set of arms grabs me and hoists me into the air.

Whipping my head around, I come face to face with another man. This one has scars all over his face that look like someone went to town on him with a fish knife. One scar goes right over his left eye and runs down to his chin.

He grins back at me with a leery look in his eyes that makes my stomach churn. “I see what the boss means.” His voice sounds like gravel scraping against pavement.

“Let me go, asshole.” I try to break free of his grasp, but he whistles in my face, releasing a gust of bad breath infused with whatever the fuck he must have last eaten and old cigarette smoke.

“He said you were beautiful. He’s right. You’re also a feisty one, aren’t you? The boss didn’t mention that part.”

A shiver runs through me, twisting and twining my nerves. Who the hell is he talking about?

“Leave her out of this,” Dad croaks, coughing.

The man before him sends another two kicks to his midsection and I scream.

“Stop it! And get the hell out of here!” I sound more ballsy than I could ever feel in a situation like this and I pray these monsters can’t hear the wild, erratic stampede of my heart pounding in my chest.

“Not yet, pretty. The boss wants his money,” the man kicking Dad spits, speaking in a thick Russian accent.

The moment I hear the deep tenor, I think of Anton. He has an accent like that.

Couldhebe the boss they’re referring to? Anton had men like these. Guards, henchmen, lackeys. It’s all the same thing.

God, what if I’m right and he’s back from Russia?

“I told you I don’t have the money.” Dad’s weak voice grips me. I want to go to him, but this asshole has me so locked in place I can barely breathe.

Dad already has a bad leg and a bad back. There’s no telling what this beating will do to him.

This is about money. Some kind of debt that I wasn’t aware of.

Things have been bad for a long time, and we’ve scrimped and lived on the fringes of the breadline, but Dad never took out loans.

“How much money is owed?” I splutter, willing myself not to cry. The worst thing you could do around men like these is show weakness.

“Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Russian guy replies, glancing at me. “Your father and brother have been inarrears for the last six months. They promised to pay ten grand by today. I’m sure you can guess that didn’t happen.”

Oh my God in Heaven. Dad and Johnny took out a loan.

And they owe three hundred and fifty thousand dollars?

What the actual fuck?

I look at Dad but he drops his head, clearly in shame. A sign the money was more for Johnny than for him.

Damn it.He’s always falling for Johnny’s wild ideas and dumb shit. But this is the worst.

What the hell did they need all that money for?

I can’t believe they had so much when I’ve been working my ass off at the diner. Now I’m the one who’s here dealing with this mess. Not Johnny.

“I have ten grand,” I speak up, my voice shaking with fear and hurt and a lethal dose of rage.

Russian guy looks at me, smiling now. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

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