Page 50 of Devious
Panic seizes in my lungs. He doesn’t even look like he’s part of a mob. My heart hammers in my chest, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight on my flesh. I take a step back.
He takes a step forward, snatching me by the arm, and I try to yank away.
“Help! Devious! Devious! Ma—”
He covers my mouth, and I bite his hand and take off running toward the door.
Another guy dressed in all black stands in my way, and I try to zigzag past him, but he removes his gun from his holster, nudging it against my forehead.
“You will shut your damn mouth and leave here with us. If you trigger anyone while we escort you out of here, I’ll make your life a living hell.”
The other guy strips down from his clothes, removes Max’s suit, and puts it on. We head outside into a black SUV. I try to kick the door open, and the guy in the back seat backhands me hard, and I cry out.
“Behave and I won’t hurt you.”
Where the hell is Devious? Has he noticed I’m gone? Maybe he’ll come for me. No, I doubt it. I’ve been a pain in his ass for so long he’s probably happy to get rid of me. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get out of this alive. Oh my God, what if someone is kidnapping me for sex trafficking? How the hell did he know my name and who I was? Tears trickle down my cheeks, and I bite my bottom lip so hard it draws blood.
An hour or so later, we arrive at a run-down warehouse that appears abandoned. Weeds surround the building, and the yellow grass is as tall as my hips.
“Who are you?” I ask, trying to keep the fear out of my tone.
The guy that took me from the bathroom stares at me. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What do you want from me?” I plead.
“Someone paid my boss to kidnap you, and they are going to sell you to a wealthy man. You go for a lot because of your last name. Devious has a lot of enemies,” he states.
What kind of enemies does Devious have? This is why he needs to tell me what goes on in the mafia. How the hell am I supposed to protect myself if he keeps me in the dark about things? I hope I survive this.
I gulp loudly.
The driver comes back and opens the door.
“Get out,” he tells me. I do, and I assess the fields of trees. The sun is starting to set, making the sky bleed orange.
“If you’re thinking about running, it’s stupid. You won’t be able to outrun us—there isn’t a house for the next sixty miles. Now move.” He pushes me forward.
The other guy pushes the door open, and three sets of eyes land on me as I shrink under their stares. They are dressed in expensive suits. I glance around the warehouse. It looks like they use this place a lot. Hardwood floors, a wet bar, a few couches, and a poker table decorate the place. It reeks of booze and sex and illegal shit.
“She’s a lot younger than I thought,” one guy says.
He has rings on each finger, and his eyes are the same color as my mama’s, black as midnight. He’s muscular and thin but has a smile that’s deadly. He’s good-looking, so why does he have to buy a woman?
“Do you not want her?” the other guy asks. He’s more on the large side, and he’s ugly. His face looks like a rat’s. His teeth are the color of gold.
“Yes,” Mr. Good-Looking says. Then he holds out a suitcase full of money. “I can train her. Young women are easy to train.”
What does he mean by train? As if I’m going to be his sex slave. My heart drops in the pit of my stomach.
Mr. Good-Looking strolls up to me and grips my chin, rubbing his fingers on my lips, and a shudder rushes through me. I feel a sense of safety with him, he doesn’t strike me as a person who would hurt women. But warning bells are going off in my head.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Terrance. Someone put a bounty on your head.”
“Who?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you.”
