Page 111 of Forbidden Confessions: Vol. 2
“Yo!” A tall, menacing suit barrels toward us.
He looks right past Ridge, who turns to address the threat, and focuses on my breasts.
No one is more shocked than me when Ridge steps in front of me protectively. “I got this handled.”
“You don’t,” the man says. “We’re about to have a scene. No one wants that.”
Ridge stiffens. “Give me a minute, Paulie. I’ll get her the hell out of here.”
“The boss has another idea, this weekend being busy and all. But you know that because you’ve been put in charge of the operation.”
I don’t understand those words precisely, but I understand two things: the veiled threat in Paulie’s tone and the fact that, as soon as he utters those words, fury pours off Ridge.
He shakes his head. “To your point, we’re attracting too much attention.”
“The boss has spoken.” The other guy nods toward the observation floor above the casino I noticed earlier.
I see a lone man standing, watching, hands clasped behind his back. Even from here, I feel his malice.
Shit, I don’t know what I’ve stepped in the middle of, but I’m in over my head.
“Fine,” I spit. “I’ll go.” I don’t know what I’ll tell Aunt Tammy, but the police will hopefully jump on this case in the next couple of hours. Maybe I can share everything I’ve discovered with them so they can find Sammie fast.
“Good riddance,” Ridge growls. “Get the fuck out and don’t come back.”
Paulie reaches past him to wrap a meaty fist around my arm. “Not so fast.”
My heart leaps to my throat before screeching to a stop.
“Take your fucking hand off of her before I break it,” Ridge threatens.
“Then get her to the eighth floor. Boss’s orders. You got ten minutes. And you better not make a scene.” With a sly, satisfied grin, Paulie turns away.
Ridge stiffens to something like unbendable steel when he whirls on me and grabs my hand. “Goddamn it. You just couldn’t leave when I told you to. C’mon.”
When he tugs, I shake my head. “What’s on the eighth floor?”
“I can’t explain it here. We’re being watched. Fuck.” He grabs my shoulders. “Now you have to come with me. And it’s going to get ugly.”
4
Before I can run, scream, tear off my clothes, or anything else that might attract attention, Ridge lifts me into his arms, against his chest, and carries me through the high rollers’ area.
“What are you doing? Put me down!”
He keeps walking like I didn’t speak, giving a flinty fuck-off stare to a blackjack dealer in the roped-off area, then nodding at a pair of suited hulks guarding a drape.
As we reach it, they push the brocade back to reveal an open elevator. Ridge strides inside. The doors begin to close.
I scream as if my life depends on it…because I’m starting to think it does.
He drops me to my feet, plasters me against the wall of the elevator with his body, and covers my mouth with his hand. “It’s too late for that. You’re at my mercy now.”
Those dark eyes of his—the ones so full of warmth and desire nine short weeks ago—are like black ice now.
“Don’t hurt me.” The plea slips out.
If anything, his eyes turn colder. “Where’s your phone?”
