Page 58 of Forbidden Cravings

“Nope. These two will fetch a pretty price. Then we turn to Tides.”

“Tides?” There was a distinct shake in his voice. Almost as strong as the one going through my body. I expected them to stop talking, but the idiots kept going. The more they said, the more I wondered how they could be Bad Omen.

“What’s wrong, fucker?” asked his partner. “You afraid of Greyson Tides? Fuck Tides. He doesn’t scare me.”

Coffee shop guy didn’t appear to agree, his skin looked a little paler. Maybe he was new to the Omens, or maybe he was a mark. But that made no sense considering the spit eater gave me thevibe of someone who fit the description of an Omen, other than his loose mouth. “He’s a heavy hitter. You sure we’re going after him next?”

“This will force his hand. You remember who his girl is? If Randall hadn’t fucked it up, we would have had him already and the bitch would be on her knees obeying some big roller’s kinks. But Randall deviated from the plan.”

“Well, he fucked it up the first time by not following the plan and bringing her home.”

They just wouldn’t stop, and my doubts about the Omens increased. These guys were off their game and spilling too much information. Information that I took and stored. I’d be happy to report every word of this back to Ty and Mason while they slowly dismembered these guys, starting with their loose tongues. And as much as I avoided the violence of the families, I would get my bucket of popcorn and watch with delight.

“Yeah, he wasn’t the smartest. He had a second chance. Fuck, both Tides and Brinks would have chased her to our turf and both would be dead by now. But he wanted to play around first. Was supposed to bring her back so we could sell her, then bring Tides and Brinks to their knees.”

“Good thing Tides killed him, or the boss would have skinned him alive.”

“If he was lucky,” the other one muttered.

Angie had gone silent, and I peered over at her. She looked exhausted, and I wondered how long she’d been yelling at them. She was a bitch and a brat who never stopped to consider her words or the insults she threw around, but she was a spit-fire and no matter how docile she looked, I pitied anyone who got on her bad side.

The spit eater’s phone rang, taking my attention from Angie.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He hung up, saying to his buddy, “Let’s go. No need to worry about Donelli’s son. They took him down, and the old man has himself locked up in his safe-house. It won’t be long before he falls.” Angie’s strength broke, and she let out a muffled cry. “Brinks is on his way. Let’s give him a warm welcome when he steps off his plane.”

Shit, how many men did they have, and why hadn’t Donelli flushed them out? If they were here, they could be anywhere. Bad Omen were the ghosts of the families, hiding in the shadows, waiting to take down a family. They’d been dormant for years, but ever since the attack on Mason, they were ramping up their efforts. But after everything I’d just witnessed, these guys didn’t strike me as that calculating, otherwise their mouths would have stayed shut in our presence. They were sloppy, and that was something Bad Omen weren’t.

“What about these two?” coffee shop guy asked.

Spit eater looked at us and laughed. “They’re harmless women. That’s the problem with these families today. They keep their women submissive. Weak, controlled women who couldn’t fight back if they wanted to because they’d break a nail.”

“Some of us like them like that,” the other guy said, licking his lips at Angie.

“Don’t let your woman hear that. She’d smack you upside your head and feed you to the dogs.”

The two laughed as they left the room, taking a flight of stairs across from them and never looking back. Let them think I was submissive. Sometimes I was, especially when Mason pulled that dominating shit on me that made me soaked. But I was anything but submissive, and Tyson had taught me well.

I searched the room, looking for something I could reach with my feet. Angie was yelling something at me, but I ignored her. She probably had to pee, or maybe she did really break a nail.

There was nothing close by and no matter how I worked my wrists, the binds didn’t loosen. I pushed my feet out, giving myself leverage and cursing myself for wearing such a short skirt as my skin shredded under the abrasion of the cement floor. Once I had solid footing, I scooted my back up the pole one inch at a time until my footing was secure enough to move faster. I was halfway up when something sharp tore into my back. I yelped into my gag, swearing at the pain that flared through me. Dropping back to my butt, I looked up, seeing the sharp piece of metal jutting from the pole. It blended in so that no one would see it unless they were looking from that angle. My back was throbbing and there was a streak of blood down the pole.

Angie was quiet, and I glanced over at her. Her eyes were wide as she looked back down from the sharp piece. There was hope in them and it gave me the urge to move again. I manipulated my body, scooting around the pole until I had the metal aligned with my wrists, then I began my ascent again. It was painstakingly slow, and I worried I might not make it in time. Not that I had a plan beyond freeing myself. All I knew was that Mason’s plane was landing soon. Since I didn’t know how long I’d been unconscious, I had no idea how close his plane was to landing. He would bring his men, and I knew no matter what had gone down, Tyson would be with him. And if these men got to the hangar first, I stood to lose them both.

My arm hit the metal, sending a searing ache through it. I cursed again and shifted until it hit the rope. I was at an odd angle, my legs not completely standing, my weight on my back, increasing the pain from my wound, but I gritted my teeth around my gag and worked the rope against the metal. The more my thighs burned from the mini squats I was doing, the more I vowed to hit the gym more when this was over. The pain was so intense, my thighs were quivering uncontrollably. Sweat beaded down my face and I wondered if my work was getting meanywhere or if I just looked like a fool until I felt the give in the rope. My heart thudded with excitement and with a few more lifts, my wrists freed, the rope snapping. The motion sent me sliding around the pole, and my ass landed hard on the cement floor.

Angie was yelling with an enthusiasm I’d never witnessed from her usual prissy demeanor. Untying my legs and then my gag, I stood, my legs still trembling from my workout. I was bruised and bleeding, but I was free. I considered leaving Angie for a fleeting moment as punishment for all the nasty things she’d ever said in her nonchalant way, but decided now wasn’t the time to reprimand her. Instead, I freed her, waiting for her thanks but getting none as she complained about the men who’d manhandled her and vowing to kill them all if they’d really hurt her brother.

I highly doubted she could physically kill anyone, but she could annoy them to death.

She marched to the stairs, but I stopped her, yanking her back. “Are you mad? We don’t know who’s out there or even where we are,” I scolded.

“And what do you propose we do?” She snatched her arms away before crossing them and staring me down.

Ignoring how badly I wanted to smack her, I grabbed a brick that was lying next to the pile of cement blocks and a hammer I found after rummaging through the wheelbarrow.

“Here,” I said, handing her the brick instead of hitting her with it.

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