Page 28 of Because You're Mine

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Tell me you’re just daydreaming and not plotting your next escape attempt.”

Startled, Allie glanced over her shoulder at Greg who had entered through the patio door and was walking toward her. He stopped next to her island perch to look her over with amusement. She was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen island wearing a flowing rose-coloured summer dress over black calf leggings. Her hair was thrown up in a messy top knot to keep it off her neck while she baked cheese biscuits for the guards. She’d decided it wasn’t their fault Jay hired them to babysit her and the house.

She had been deep in thought over an actual course on social activism she wanted to take. That and blow jobs. She had little to no experience on that subject and she thought maybe she could use a refresher and wondered how she could go about asking Jay without horribly embarrassing herself.

Allie glanced over at Greg and wondered which thought she should tell him about. She decided against blow jobs, since he seemed like the fatherly type. Actually, more like a badass uncle that liked to blow shit up. Instead, she decided to ask him something that’d been bothering her since her escape attempt earlier in the week.

“Since you brought it up… can you tell me what happened to the guys that were guarding me when I got away from the book store? I haven’t seen them or Hershel in a week and I’ve been wondering.”

Greg quirked a bushy brow at her. “Been feeling a little guilty?”

“If anyone should feel guilty it’s Jay!” Allie pointed out vehemently.

Greg chuckled. “Well they aren't sleeping with the fishes if that’s what you were worried about. In fact, Hershel’s due to start back at the house shortly here. Most of them were put on dock duty, loading and unloading incoming freighters. It’s hard, dirty work that most in the organization work their asses off to get away from. Jay’s a tough, but fair man. You screw up once and you usually end up on the docks.”

“What happens if you screw up twice?” Allie asked curiously.

Greg looked at her steadily, his hazel eyes eloquent.

“Oh.”

“Something sure smells good,” Greg said appreciatively, sniffing the air.

Allie smiled and wiggled toward the edge of the counter just as the oven buzzer went off. Greg reached out to take her arm and help her down. She put on oven mitts and pulled two pans out of the oven, pleased to see the fluffy golden colour of the baked pastries. She would set a few aside for Jay to enjoy later with his supper. She closed the oven and set one of the pans down. With the other pan still in her hand, she turned to ask Greg how many he wanted for himself. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened in terror.

“Greg!” she screamed.

He didn’t have time to react. Hershel shot him twice in the back. Greg crashed forward against the island counter and then staggered forward into the stove before collapsing. Allie let go of the hot biscuit pan, pulled off the oven mitts and dropped down onto her knees beside him. One hand went to his neck while she placed the other one tentatively on his back. Strong, steady pulse. She had First Aid training certification every two years which included training in gunshot wounds because of her work with vulnerable populations. She realized almost immediately that Greg was wearing a bulletproof vest. But he was out cold. Likely the close range impact of the bullets had broken some ribs. Hopefully they hadn’t punctured any vital organs.

Allie looked up at Hershel who was standing over her, the gun levelled at her face. She shivered. It seemed odd to her that she was in another life threatening situation less than two months after her last one, yet somehow she’d managed to go her entire adult life in serene safety. Jay was going to put her in bubble wrap and never let her out of his sight after this.

“Jay’s going to kill you for this.” She said the first thing that came to mind.

Hershel looked particularly stupid today in a tailored Gucci suit with a persimmon-coloured shirt. He was wearing his signature sunglasses indoors. She decided her initial impression of his looking like a dog walker assassin was accurate. She would just picture him with a poodle and poopy bags along with the gun. It would help stave off the panic threatening to bubble up inside her.

“Le Croix can’t touch me, baby,” Hershel waved at her to stand up. “Time to go.”

Allie arched her eyebrow at the ‘baby,’ which sounded a little bizarre coming from a guy several years her junior. Just… ew. And what the heck was up with Hershel? Why was he shooting the place up? She’d thought he was a little off, but this? Apparently they’d all misjudged the jackass big time.

"Is this about the bookstore?" Allie asked, frowning. "Greg said you were sent to the docks. I'm... I'm sorry that happened. I didn't know Jay would do that."

Was it possible his time on the docks had unhinged the normally impeccable Hershel? She knew from discussions she'd had with him prior to the bookstore incident that Hershel had been raised in the foster system, similar to Jay. She thought maybe that was one of the reasons Jay had hired him. But Allie felt the two men shared very little else. A conclusion she had come to even before Hershel shot Greg. Despite the inborn toughness the street had bred in Jay, there was a deep-seated integrity that Hershel lacked.

Hershel laughed coldly, leering at Allie. "I've been on the Triad's payroll for a while now. My being assigned to you just happens to be real fucking convenient for them right now."

He took her arm in a hard grip and dragged her roughly over Greg's unconscious body. Allie held her breath, but Greg didn't utter a sound. Hershel held her close against him, breathing into her hair as he spoke. "Be a good girl and maybe you'll get out of this alive, baby. We need to walk down to the dock nice and calm, like we're going to see the yacht. Understand?"

He looked her over and with quick, ruthless movements, jerked her hair down from it’s knot on top of her head and fluffed it around her shoulders so it partially obscured her face. He then slid the gun into his suit jacket and pressed it hard against her side. His grip on her arm tightened until she was sure there would be bruises on her arm. Allie shuddered and bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain.

“I said, do you understand?”

She jerked her head in a nod and he loosened his fingers. He adjusted his hand so his arm was linked around her elbow. It was definitely more touching than Jay would normally allow his men to have with Allie, but they would probably make it down to the docks without security getting too concerned. He guided her toward the back door and out into the blinding sunlight. Allie blinked several times and stumbled as he pulled her several steps away from the house.

"Shade your damn eyes with your other hand so they can't see your face, you're too fucking expressive," Hershel snapped at her.

Allie did as he said, jerking her arm up and covering her eyes, hoping the move looked more natural than it felt. The barrel of the gun jabbed into her side so hard she gasped and tried automatically to move away, but he held her tightly by the arm. She glanced up at his face from between her fingers and shivered at the near manic grin plastered on his face. It was the same smile he'd flashed her dozens of times while hanging out and chatting with her over the past weeks, only now it wasn't benign. Now he looked like a shark. A killer.

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