Page 51 of Pump Fake

“Fuck yeah, we are.” Kylian’s fierce glare was the same one he got on the field. There would be no talking him out of it.

“So, what’s the plan?” Liam leaned forward, his arms braced on the front seats.

“We go in wanting to make some money on our games,” I proposed. “Or to set up an illegal fight club with betting.”

“I like the game one,” Kylian said. “Sports betting and the mafia are huge.”

“Yeah, they are,” Liam agreed. “If one of the head guys is there, we need to talk to them. I doubt they’ll get us close to wherever the basement is. It could simply be the elevator.”

“It probably is. I can’t picture them using the stairs.” It was the most logical explanation. “All right, let’s go in and find one of the head assholes.”

“Also”—Liam moved to open his door—“if my sister gets wind that we’re inside, we won’t have much time before her team forces us to leave.”

“Got it. In and out.” If that was possible. I didn’t have to lookat my friends to know the same thoughts ran through their heads.

We melted into a group of guys who were close to our age. It was loud and chaotic inside, with the sounds of slot machines and people talking. Music pumped in through speakers. I wanted to spread out for a better chance at finding who we needed, but it wasn’t necessary.

Halfway through the multitude of gamblers, Liam tugged at my arm. “Over there.”

It was the same guy from the picture Liam had shown us—Anthony Canino. Two huge thugs trailed him as he reached a door near the left back corner. I couldn’t imagine we would be lucky enough that it would lead to Brielle.

“Screw it. We’re doing this another way.”

As one, we pivoted and followed. The larger of the two goons stepped forward and swiped a keycard that unlocked the door. He held it open for his boss, and we picked up the pace to grab it before it closed. Kylian sprinted ahead as they passed through, and he barely managed to slip his foot in to stop it from closing.

“I’ve got the thugs,” I whispered. “You two keep Anthony from pulling a gun on us.”

It wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. I took out guys as big as those two on the field all the time. The key was to surprise them.

I sprinted down the hall, my gym shoes muffled on the carpeted floor, but not silent. The closest thug turned as I shifted direction and leaped at him. My body slammed into his side, knocking into his partner. Thug Two’s head hit the wall with a loud crack. Liam jumped over the pile of bodies, Kylian close on his heels.

In the back of my mind, I kept waiting for more men to swarm the hallway with guns. The only reason that didn’t happen was probably because we were in such a good position.

Thug Two didn’t move, his neck at an awkward angle. Thug One shoved me off of him. We both scrambled to our feet. He reached inside his coat, and I slammed my fist into the side of his head. A gun fell to the floor, and I kicked it away as a fist connected with my gut. My stomach spasmed, and my lungs seized. Another punch caught me off guard as I struggled to inflate my lungs. I dropped to a knee, spots swirling from the last punch to the side of my head.

I lunged at his legs, taking him down.Fuck!The gun was within reach. We both stretched for it at the same time. His hand slapped against the butt of it, but I wrestled it free then cracked him on the head with the grip. The fight left him. I waited a second before getting up then dashed into the room where Liam and Kylian had wrestled Anthony.

Liam and Kylian each held one of Anthony’s arms. Blood trickled down his nose. Fury rushed through me, and I slammed my fist into the mafia guy’s face. Sports betting had been a clever tactic, but I wanted answers now that we had him. “Where the fuck is she?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

BRIELLE

The woman’s screams coming from somewhere beyond my holding cell sent terror coursing through my veins.Please let Serena be safe.I’d texted my sister earlier to make sure she and Mom had followed through and gotten out of town. I hoped they’d succeeded. I didn’t know what I would do if I found out my sister faced the same hell as me.

I couldn’t think about that. Instead, I focused on what needed to be done. As soon as they’d left me alone, I’d struggled frantically against the plastic securing my wrists behind the chair. I couldn’t get free. The only thing I could do was throw my body to the side.

I leaned my weight to one side as far as possible then jerked in the opposite direction. The chair tipped. I slammed onto the concrete floor, stifling a cry at the pain in my shoulder. I breathed through it until it was bearable.

The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to my room. I had no idea when my turn would come for their sadistic torture show or whatever else the mafia don had in mind. Whatever it was, I couldn’t let it happen. I had to get free.

On my side, I wiggled and pushed myself higher, shufflingabove the chair’s back until I was free of it. Then I contorted, squirmed, and strained until I got my bound hands under my butt and forced my legs through. I’d heard about how to break zip ties before. I only hoped I had the strength to do it.

I couldn’t spare a second to celebrate my progress. Awkwardly, I got to my feet, raised my arms over my head, and brought them down fast, pulling my hands apart on the downward swing. The plastic snapped, leaving nasty welts and cuts on my wrists. I didn’t care. I was one step closer to escaping.

Voices sounded, and I fought panic. I righted the chair. The plastic ties were on the floor. I lunged for them before flinging myself back to my seat and positioning my arms behind me like they were still tethered.

My heart raged against my ribs, and sweat beaded along my hairline and upper lip. I couldn’t catch my breath, fear getting the best of me. A key scraped in the lock, and the doorknob twisted. I waited, tremors racking my body as the door swung open, revealing Vincent Canino.

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