Page 27 of Vendetta
She didn’t move.
“Don’t make this difficult,” he said, lowering the glass a fraction.“We can do this the easy way.Or I can bring someone else in here to help me.”
Dylan froze on that note.No.She didn’t want that.
Slowly, she reached for the glass he held, wrapping her fingers around the glass.She didn’t drink from it or say she wasn’t going to.She just held it, keeping her gaze on the man in front of her.
“You said something about relaxing,” she said, voice suddenly softer.“Maybe… maybe we just need to reset this.”
The bastard’s smile turned smug.
Taking a tiny step back, she went for trying to act shy.He hadn’t been around her that long.Maybe she could pull it off.Glancing down at the glass, she just let the panic come on.Even embellished it a little.Acting like she tripped in her nervousness, she “accidentally” slung it straight at him.The drink and whatever it was laced with soaked his shirt and pants while ice slid across the floor around them.
“Shit,” he barked, looking around for something to use to clean himself.“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I’m sorry!”she gasped, backing away toward the far side of the room.“It slipped!”
He swore and turned toward the kitchen.“How did your clumsy ass ever make it as a fucking waitress?”he went on.
While he was doing that, Dylan moved quickly.Frantically, she looked around, looking for anything that she could use for a weapon.Anything that could buy her another minute.
With an ache in her chest, she couldn’t help but wish she’d listened to Jason.She shouldn’t have gone back.She should have known something like this would happen.
Jason would never find her, and she had no way to reach him in this hell.She just hoped she’d see him again.
* * *
Vendetta
The van fishtailed onto the gravel drive, headlights off.Vendetta killed the engine before the dust even settled, the door already swinging open.He was moving before his boots hit the ground.
The place was too quiet.The lights were on, wide open to the lake like a Goddamn catalog shoot.But there wasn’t an event here.No music or laughter.There were no signs of a fucking party.Just polished silence and darkness beyond the front windows.
Vendetta didn’t go in blind.He approached the front door quickly, moving fast because all of the fucking lights, and disabled the security system.It was the same model the Oak Grove compound used, and just as lazy on updates.Once the keypad was dark, he didn’t linger.
Next, he rounded the house, moving low.His boots were silent on the flagstone path, his fingers brushing the handle of the knife tucked inside his jacket.The side entrance was locked, but that wasn’t a problem.A few seconds and one hard shoulder check later, he pushed his way inside.
Inside, the air was warm and heavy.Keeping his eyes and ears open, he kept moving.That’s when he heard the footfalls.Two men heading down the hall toward him.They were decent-sized, dressed casually.They were talking about liquor and women, even though he wasn’t trying to hear their words.
Vendetta moved before they saw him.One guard went down fast with a sharp strike to the throat, cutting off any sound, a clean elbow to the temple putting him out cold.The second turned but he didn’t move fast enough.Vendetta caught him by the collar and slammed his head into the wall hard enough to drop him.Catching the body, he eased it down.
His pulse ticking faster, he stepped over them.Approaching the living room, he heard a voice echoing in there.“… ruined my shirt.You think that was cute, you little cunt?”
Vendetta’s blood went cold.Turning the corner, he saw Dylan.His girl was backed up to a marble counter, her hands curled into fists at her sides.
Some polished bastard stood there wiping his pants, towering over her, looking angry and entitled.Vendetta thought this might be the guy Eli had brought toNed’s -- the one who gave her the creeps.
The man made a move in her direction.Vendetta didn’t hesitate.In three steps, he crossed the room.The man turned just in time to catch the full weight of Vendetta’s fist crashing into his jaw.Bone cracked against his knuckles.He went down hard, glass and ice scattering beneath him.The fucker tried to scramble up.
Vendetta kicked him square in the ribs, sending him crashing into the leg of the coffee table.“Touch her again,” he growled, “and I’ll cut off a hand.”
The man wheezed, spit and blood painting his chin.“Who the hell are --”
Vendetta didn’t answer.He just grabbed the guy by the collar and slammed his head once into the polished floor.Then it was done.
He turned, his chest still heaving, and found Dylan frozen in place.Her eyes were wide, her hands trembling.
“I…” she started, her voice cracking.
