Page 101 of Tangled Desires

The thug beside him shifts uneasily. “Boss, she’s faking.”

Snake Eyes grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking hard. Pain explodes in my scalp as I’m forced to look up at him. “Don’t lie to me,” he growls, pressing a knife to my neck.

The blade’s cold bite is terrifyingly real.

“I’m not! My water broke—the baby’s coming!” I cry, breathless from pain and fear. The other guy glances nervously.

“Boss, maybe she’s telling the truth.” Snake Eyes curses under his breath, frustration etched in every line of his face.

“Fine. Call the truck. If she pops the kid out on the way, I don’t give a fuck.”

“No—please!” I plead, a sob choking me as another contraction tears through my body. But his face stays cold, unmoved. I’m trapped, helpless, and the clock is ticking.

37

Xavier and I are cruising through town, the scent of greasy food filling Xav’s ute, bags piled on my lap. Imogen’s been craving everything under the sun, and I can already picture her face lighting up when she sees all the options. I glance at Xavier, chuckling. “Hope you grabbed enough chips this time, mate. Last time, Imogen nearly took my fingers off.”

He snorts, keeping his eyes on the road. His phone buzzes, Isla’s name flashing on the screen. He smirks and taps speaker. “Yeah, babe, we’re on the way with food—”

“Xavier... I’m... under the sink cupboard… I can’t… They’re… Imogen’s inside—” Isla’s panicked voice comes through, cutting him off. It’s strangled, barely holding it together, her breaths hitched and frantic.

The blood drains from my face, and my heart fucking drops.

Xavier straightens in his seat. “What? Isla, slow the fuck down! What’s going on?”

“Imogen?” My voice comes out coarse, like I’ve swallowed glass. “Where is Imogen?”

“She’s inside,” Isla chokes on a sob. “They’re here—for the money. Oh God, hurry. I’m calling zero-zero-zero, but you need to get here now. Please. Just hurry. Hurry the fuck up!”

My vision blurs, chest heaving as the words sink in.They’re here.The call cuts off.

Xavier punches the steering wheel, a feral growl tearing out of him. “She fucking hung up!”

“Then drive, Xavier!” I roar, heat blazing through me, every nerve on fire. “Get us to the salon. He’s dead. I swear to God, he’s fucking dead.”

I’m already fighting the urge to rip my seatbelt off, ready to run there myself if I have to. My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out everything but the panic clawing its way up my throat.

Xavier fumbles for his phone, jabbing Bradley’s number. “Answer, man. Come on, pick the fuck up.”

Brad’s voice clicks through, and Xavier doesn’t waste a second. “Brad, listen—Isla and Midge are in trouble. Big fucking trouble. Get your team to the salon. Now.”

I can barely hear them. My focus is locked ahead, fists clenched so tight they’re trembling. Every second drags like a lifetime, my mind spinning with worst-case scenarios.

Please be okay. Please, Imogen.

“Faster, Xav. Please—fuck!” I shout, voice cracking under the weight of it all.

“I am! I’m going as fast as I can,” Xavier growls, knuckles white on the wheel. “She’s tough, Harrison. Imogen’s tough. She’s fine. They’re fine.”

“Tough won’t mean shit if they’ve hurt her,” I bite out, my voice splintering. “She’s not just tough. She’s mine.”

If anyone touched her—No. When I get there, they’re dead.

Every single one of them.

The ute barrels through intersections, engine screaming, tires screeching—but it’s still not enough. Not fast enough. It’ll never be fast enough.

Hold on, Immy.

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