Page 91 of Playing Hard to Hate
Then a sickening pause.
“Found something.”
“No!” Tate’s scream split the air, and another vicious slap landed, her instant cry of pain searing through me like fire.
I moved without thinking, stepping inside her bedroom, my eyes landing on the scene. All I could think about was the violence I was about to unleash.
Tate stood in the middle of her bedroom, terror in her wide eyes, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
And behind her,Damian Voss. The kid I had gone to school with my entire life.
He was the same bastard from the robbery. The samecrystal blue eyes filled with violence.The same scar just under his right eye, a slash through his face. He moved quickly when I entered the room, flying across the space between him and Tate.
Suddenly one arm was locked around her, yanking her against his chest. She squirmed and clawed at his arm to no avail. He was far too strong for her.
His other hand raised,holding a knife to her throat.
The air thickened.My vision tunneled. My whole body went rigid, heart pounding with rage, with fear, with an instinct so primal it nearly blacked me out.
Then, the smallest whimper of fear escaped Tate’s lips, fragile, broken, like she was trying to hold it in but couldn’t.Her bottom lip was split, a thin line of blood staining its fullness from the force of his slap. Her cheeks were flushed, streaked with tears, her breath coming in quick, panicked gasps.
Her wide, desperate eyes flickered to mine, searching, pleading.
And I snapped.
“Let her go,” I growled, voice like gravel. “You want money? She doesn’t have any, but I have plenty of it.”
Damian grinned. It made my skin crawl when he dragged the tip of the blade across her pale skin, taunting me.
“Would you look at that? Prince Charming in the flesh.”
I wanted to kill him.
I wanted to wrap my fingers around his neck and squeeze while he begged me for his life, but I had to remind myself I couldn’t do that. I had a future, and if I killed him, my future would be snuffed out right before my goddamn eyes.
The police were on their way. I just had to buy us time.Keep him talking. Keep him distracted.
“Let her go,” I said again, forcing my voice to stay steady, ignoring the cruel smirk tugging at his chapped lips.
“Fifty grand,” he countered, tightening his grip on Tate. “Cash.”
I shook my head.No chance in hell.
“I’ll write you a check,” I offered, inching closer. “You walk out of this apartment and never come back.”
His laughter rang out, sharp, unhinged, filled with sick amusement. “You don’t get to make the terms, Silver.” His grip on Tate jerked, making her whimper. “I’ve got your girl. And if you don’t give me what I want…” He pressed the blade against her throat, the cold steel biting into her skin. A spot of blood rolled down her skin, sinking into the fabric of her shirt. “I’ll slit her pretty little throat and watch her bleed out right in front of you.”
Tate whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut, but I saw the way her body trembled, the way she was fighting to stay still, to not make a sudden move that could set him off.
I clenched my fists, every muscle in my body coiled tightly, my vision darkening at the edges. I wanted to lunge, to rip her from his grasp and end him, but I couldn’t risk it. Not yet.
“You kill her, you get nothing, Damian.” My voice was low, deadly. “No money. No escape. Just a life sentence, if you’re lucky.” I saw a hint of fear flash in his eyes.
His nostrils flared, his fingers twitching against the knife. I had his attention now.
The knife trembled in his grip, his breath turning ragged, uneven. The manic energy in his eyes flickered, fear creeping in, cracking through the rage.
“No, no, no,” he muttered, shaking his head like he could somehow erase what I just said. “You don’t get it, Silver. I don’t have a choice.”
