Page 80 of How Sweet It Is

I figured that would be the answer. Still, Levi’s going to be here in a matter of seconds. Would it really hurt to wait?

“You should’ve called first,” I say, my grip on the door tightening. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“We don’t have time.” His voice hardens. “We’re trying to keep you safe.”

I know this is true, but I just don’t feel right about going with these men before Levi comes. I swallow, a hollow feeling creeping over me. “I know. I just?—”

The man with silver hair raises a hand. “Ma’am, I’m afraid we can’t wait?—”

Then I hear it, the low growl of an engine, familiar and gloriously loud. Levi’s car turns in to the lot, and relief surges in my chest. He’s here. I can explain before I go. I can promise him that after the trial…

I freeze. After the trial? What will I do? Come back here?

Levi’s door lifts, and he gets out of his extremely flashy car. The US Marshals turn and stare down at the Lamborghini. Heh. Men. They are all the same. I inwardly roll my eyes. I guess my safety isn’t as important as a flashy car.

Footsteps echo up the stairs. Levi appears on the third floor, light and easy, like he has no idea I’m about to be whisked away by US Marshals.

He takes one look at the men and stops short. “What’s going on? Who are these men?”

The silver-haired man grabs my arm as his two men go after Levi. Thai containers hit the floor, spilling noodles across the cement landing. I’m too stunned to realize what’s going on until the two men drag Levi down the stairs, Mr. Silver Hair forcing me out of my apartment, his grip tight on my upper arm.

Terror rips through me as I realize these men are not US Marshals.

They are Victor’s goons.

CHAPTER 38

LEVI BARRETT — SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 20

Istruggle against the two men gripping me, pulling me toward a black SUV. I know if they get us in the car, it’s over. We’ll never get away. So I fight with everything I have in me, kicking at their shins, jerking my arms, trying to twist out of their grip. But they’re too strong.

The short one grips my arm so tight I feel like I’m going to pass out. Claire screams behind me, and it gives me a jolt of adrenaline, and I kick some more.

“Let go of her!” I shout, thrashing harder, landing an elbow into the ribs of the man with a mustache. He grunts, loosening his hold just enough for me to slam my head back into Shorty’s nose. He swears loudly, but the first one recovers fast and yanks me backward by my shirt. Claire comes into view, shoved forward by the older one.

Cold metal presses against my temple.

“Stop or I’ll kill you both,” Mr. Mustache growls, his breath reeking of stale cigarettes.

Claire freezes midkick, her eyes wide, terrified but still burning with fire. She’s not giving up. Not even close.

I glance around, desperate to find someone who can call the police, but the parking lot is empty. Mr. Mustache forces me down, wrenching my arms behind my back. Rocks from the pavement bite into my cheek. They tie my hands with rope and gag me. My face hits the floor of the SUV as they shove me in like I weigh nothing.

Shorty tries to toss Claire onto the pavement, but she manages to wrestle with him, staying upright. She kicks out with both feet as they try to push her into the car. Mr. Mustache stumbles back, clutching his chest where her heel landed. Shorty swears and lunges for her again then grabs her by the waist.

“You’re gonna regret this!” They gag her, too, but not before she lands a knee square in the old guy’s groin.

I would laugh if I could breathe.

They can’t get her hands behind her, so they tie them in front and toss her into the SUV. She lands on top of me in a tangled heap, gasping against the gag. Our eyes meet. Hers are blazing. I nod once, and she gives the slightest nod back.

Time to stop playing nice.

The moment the doors start to shut, I twist, ignoring the pain shooting through my shoulders. I drive my legs out, catching Shorty midstep. He topples backward then hits the pavement with a curse. Mr. Mustache reaches for Claire, but she spins onto her back and kicks upward with both legs, sending him reeling.

I manage to sit up just enough to slam my shoulder into the door before it can shut fully. It bounces open. I wedge my foot into the frame and push hard.

“Move!” I grunt through the gag.

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