Page 63 of Lose Me In The Shadows

Kara inhaled, forcing herself to stop from smacking his hand away from her. This was good, this was what she needed to get him where she wanted him. They turned down the hallway, and she whispered back, “Oh, I know you will—but first can you get rid of the guards? I don’t like having an audience.”

He laughed in disbelief. “I saw you earlier, practically grinding on those random men. You love an audience.”

She was going to vomit all over his shoes.

Keep your shit together, Kara.

They reached the bathroom. She glanced casually behind her, but she didn’t see her men anywhere. Where were they? They would never have abandoned her. Had something happened? She couldn’t do this herself—not with five burly guards and a speeding up heart that signaled an oncoming panic attack.

What was she going to do?

“Please,” she begged, keeping her voice sultry. “Keep it just the two of us and I’ll make it worth your while.”

He stared her down, suspicion in his eyes.

“Who did you say you were again?”

“Maya,” she offered.

“Maya,” he said slowly, grabbing her wrist and gripping it hard in his hand as he began to drag her into the bathroom. Her men held her wrist like that when they were guiding her somewhere, and it was amazing how much she loved when they did it, in comparison to now, when she wanted to wrench it out of this pathetic dillweed’s hand and use her own hand to twist his balls off his body.

“Let me tell you how this goes,” he continued. “No one tells me no, especially not a fucking tease. I say jump, you say how high. I say ‘blow every single one of my guards while I watch,’ and you get on your knees and open that whore mouth—”

She heard thuds—one, two, three, four, five—and then a grunt as her wrist was released and Vincent was dragged off her.

Hearing a crack and then a scream, she looked up and saw Conor break Vincent’s wrist with barely any effort.

A soothing hand touched her wrist. Micah.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded, then shook her head. Then nodded it again.

“Yes, no, I don’t know. That fucking sucked,” she admitted. “He reminded me of…”

“The professor. I know. Proud of you, baby. You did great, and he’ll never touch you again.”

She glanced around. Five men lay on the floor. Two of them had their heads at odd angles.

“Are they all dead?”

Luke shook his head, clearly in pain from the tightness in his face. “Just two. It was easier for me to break their necks than it was to knock them out.”

“How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s been better. Good thing I like pain.”

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Conor said. “Someone will come investigate, and this pathetic jackass can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.”

They all glanced at Vincent, who whimpered on the floor.

“Knock him out?” Micah suggested.

Conor glared, then sighed. “I want him to feel every second of the hurt he caused Kara.”

“Don’t worry, there’s more coming his way.”

17

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