Page 27 of Brutal Legacy

A muscle worked in his tight jaw.

“You’d be surprised,” he ground out and glanced over his shoulder. “If you want this to be as painless as possible, consider keeping your mouth shut from now on.”

He pulled me to him, and we were walking again. This time to the road. Cabs were lined up along the street, with some of the drivers out and watching the action.

“You’d be surprised.”

His voice worked through my mind, playing on repeat. It was so familiar, somehow, and yet different. He had no accent. His tone was clipped. And yet… I could have sworn I’d heard it before.

We got to a cab, and my captor rapped hard on the hood to get the driver’s attention.

“You working?”

The cabbie nodded and ducked back into the taxi. We got into the back, the damn gun digging into my side the entire time. Icaught the driver’s eye in the rearview mirror and tried to tell him with my eyes that I needed help.

“Where to?” the driver asked as we turned away from the hotel and police. Turned away from any sign of help.

“Boyle Heights,” the man answered confidently, then rattled off my address.

My address.

What was the point of trying to get away, when this man clearly knew where I lived? He probably knew where I worked, too.

I blinked at the taxi driver in the mirror, my eyes crying out for help.

“Nice photo on the dash. You got kids?” my captor asked the driver.

He nodded. “Four of them, if you can believe it!”

“Wow, four kids… a lot of mouths to feed.” My mystery man in black glanced at me.

The subtext of his look was clear. He’d hurt the driver if I said anything to him. I got it. I wasn’t getting anyone killed.

We drove in silence. I watched the city pass by outside the window, envying the people walking freely to and fro. Just an hour ago, I’d been one of them. I hadn’t appreciated that simple action, until now. In an hour, my life had been upended, and I couldn’t get my brain to accept it. The change was too dramatic.

A new, starkly terrifying thought hit me.

What would happen when we were alone? What did this man want? Was he here to hurt me? Was it because of my father? Was he going to kill me?

Panic threatened to close my throat, my lungs seeming to seize up. I could barely drag enough air into my chest. Spots danced in front of my eyes, and a wave of dizziness hit me. I was having a panic attack. I was no stranger to them. I’d been having them since I was nineteen years old and my world fell apart.

I closed my eyes and focused on three things. Three things I could smell. Asphalt from the slightly open window. Air freshener. My shampoo. Then three things I could feel. My jeans. The leather of the seat. A gun in my side.Nope.Not helpful. Finally, I let my eyes open and focused on three things I could see. The back of the driver’s head. The sunlight falling in the window and landing in a square on my leg. The dark glasses of the man who was holding me at gunpoint. He seemed to be watching me, but it was hard to tell. He could have been asleep for how impassive his face was.

“Have you received any international mail recently? Something from your father?” my mercenary asked.

Shit.The package that I hadn’t collected yet.

“No. Why? Should I have?” The lie left me before I could stop it. Why was I lying? The only reason I had was that this man was dangerous, and if he wanted whatever my father had sent me, it might be important. I needed a bargaining chip to protect myself. I couldn’t let him have it.

The cab pulled to a stop, and fear slammed back into me. Before I could think about trying to call out to the driver, we were back out on the street.

I lunged away when my captor turned to close the door, and he yanked me back in, hard.

“What did I say about repeating myself?” he murmured ominously. “Now, be a good girl and invite your guest upstairs.”

“You’re not my guest,” I muttered.

“Fine, how about the man who decides your fate?” he replied, just as quietly.

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