Page 105 of Beautiful Beast

“I’m waiting, Erik,” Dante says.

My head is telling me one thing while my heart is telling me another. I didn’t even know I had a heart to begin with, and now, it won’t shut up.

Power or Anya.

I shut my eyes and envision the first thing that comes to me.

Red hair. A sharp grin. Large eyes.

It’s Anya.

I throw my gun to the ground. “I’ll give myself up.”

Chapter

Sixteen

ERIK

“That’s the right answer,” Dante says. “Now, come out. No fucking funny business.”

I send a quick text to James, letting him know the situation. The cell service is low in here, and the message is loading. I have no choice but to put my phone away and hope James gets my text.

With a sigh, I step out from my hiding spot and lift my hands. “No funny business.”

Dante comes out, gun pointed at me, while Finn does the same. “Check him.”

Finn approaches me and sticks his hand in my pocket, pulling out my phone. “Looks like he sent a text. Good thing it didn’t go through.” He tosses the phone to Dante.

While that happens, I act.

I grab Finn’s arm and reach for his gun, but he has fast reflexes. He twists out of my grip and fires. The bullet lands by my foot. To my credit, I don’t even flinch.

“You’re a smart man, Erik. I’ll give you that.” Dante throws my phone to the floor and stomps on it. “But I want to have my fun with you, so you can’t leave just yet. Finn.”

Finn walks behind me and ties my eyes hands together with a zip tie. “You could’ve shot me, you bastard. I don’t appreciate that.”

“You’re coming with me.” Dante leads us out a back entrance to a car. Finn forces me to get inside. I could try to fight, but with my hands tied behind my back, it’s practically impossible.

Finn keeps a gun trained on me while Dante drives.

“I’m amazed you drive your own car,” I comment. “I would’ve thought a pretty boy like you would have your own personal driver.”

“Oh, I do.” His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “But at this moment, I want it to just be us. I want to drive you to your own death.”

“Curious question. Why did we never work together?”

Dante scoffs. “Because you’re Russian, and I’m Italian. It never mixes.”

“Right. But if we weren’t, you wouldn’t be interested at all in working together?”

He goes silent, either considering my words or trying to come up with a way to tell me to fuck off. “I would be interested,” he finally says.

“Oh?”

“Don’t so sound fucking surprised, Erik. You’re a powerful man. You own a lot of this city. But so do I. If we joined forces, we’d be unstoppable. But alas, I don’t want to join forces. I want you dead so I can take the power you have.”

“Understood. Good to know where I stand.”

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