Page 100 of Tangled Desires

“No! I’m fine standing.”

“Feisty one, huh?” He nods to the guy behind me, who steps forward, grabbing me by the shoulders.

“Don’t fucking touch me, you pig!” I spit, struggling against him as he shoves me into the chair. He’s much stronger than I am, so my protests are useless. He yanks my arms back and securing them with a zip tie.

“She’s got a mouth on her, too.” He smirks, tightening the ties until my wrists ache.

They circle me, all eyes on me, making my skin crawl. Harrison warned me about his father’s debts, but I never thought it would come to this. The leader, I decide to call himSnake Eyes. It fits—the cold, dead look in his gaze, the way he hisses each word like he’s enjoying this sick little game. Snake Eyes crouches down in front of me, his eyes level with mine, and that thin, twisted smile of his sends a chill through every nerve in my body.

“Let’s make this easy, hmm?” He leans in close, close enough that I catch the faint scent of cigarette smoke lingering on him, something sharp and acrid. “Where’s my money, Imogen?”

“I already told you—I don’t have it. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Harrison doesn’t, either. His father… He’s been lying to everyone.”

His smile disappears. “Wrong answer.”

The back of his hand crashes against my cheek with a brutal crack. I cry out, the sharp sting spreading like fire across my face. My head snaps to the side, and for a moment, everything blurs—pain exploding behind my eyes as a metallic taste floods my mouth.

“Let’s try again,” Snake Eyes drawls. “We were told the money’s with you. Or maybe,” he leans in closer, “you’re just hiding it somewhere. So, where is it?”

My jaw throbs, each pulse sharp and unforgiving. Blood pools in my mouth, and I swallow it down, the metallic tang making me gag. Panic sets in, cold and fast—the taste, the bleeding—it’s too much.

“You’re wasting your time,” I manage, voice trembling but defiant. “We don’t have it. Harrison and I, we’re just—” He grabs my chin, yanking my head back, silencing me with a brutal grip.

“I don’t want your life story, sweetheart. I want the cash.” His grip tightens, nails biting into my skin. “Do you know what happens to people who lie to me?” I force down the panic clawing at my throat.

“I’m not lying.”

Behind him, Tattoo Face chuckles, low and menacing. “Tough one, boss. Think we should send her husband a little… message?” Snake Eyes lets go of my chin, tapping his gun thoughtfully.

“A few bruises? Or maybe a scar. Something Harrison can’t ignore. What do you reckon?” It’s past five. Shops in Wattle Creek close early. Next door shut at two, the other at three. Apart from grocery stores and pubs, this town sleeps early. Essentials only. Even if I screamed, no one would hear me. And if they did, they’d probably shoot me, anyway.

“Please, don’t... I’m p-pregnant.” A sharp pain knifes through my abdomen, doubling me over as much as my bound wrists allow. The zip tie bites into raw skin, each movement sending jolts of pain up my arms. Snake Eyes tilts his head, amusement flickering in his dead eyes.

“That supposed to make me feel bad?”

“Please, I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt my baby—”

The slap lands before I can finish. My head snaps sideways, stars bursting behind my eyes as the ache blooms sharp and deep. A cry slips out, followed by another stabbing twist in my belly, fiercer this time.

Snake Eyes grabs my face, forcing my gaze upward. “I don’t give a fuck about you or your baby. Think fast, sweetheart. Where’s my money?”

Panic tightens in my chest. Another wave of pressure builds low, clawing up my spine. The urge to go—to relieve the unbearable weight—hits hard. My voice shakes as I plead. “I need the bathroom. Please.”

Laughter rumbles behind me. Snake Eyes snaps, “Shut the fuck up.” I can’t hold it. Warmth trickles down my leg, pooling beneath me. Heat floods my cheeks, shame burning hotter than the pain.

“Pathetic,” Snake Eyes sneers, stepping back. One of the others chuckles, shaking his head. “Look at her, pissin’ herself.” Another deep, twisting cramp grips me, stealing my breath. It’s not random. It’s real. Focus. Count. Eight minutes, maybe less.

The next wave hits harder. Faster.

Eight minutes apart. God, only eight minutes.

Another round of pain crashes through me, sharp and unrelenting. Realisation slams into me—I’m having contractions. My water just broke. “Oh, God,” I gasp.

Snake Eyes turns, his cold gaze locking on me. “I don’t have time for this,” he sneers. “Maybe we’ll give Harrison a call. See if he suddenly remembers where the money is.”

“T-the baby... I’m in labor,” I whisper.

His eyes narrow. “Bullshit.”

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