Page 109 of A Forbidden Arrangement
“Hello? Xander?” Her laugh is so fucking sweet. “Is this some kind of butt dial?”
I cover the mic, trying to catch my breath and get my shit together. The last thing she needs me to do is terrify her unnecessarily.
“My meeting’s over. Meet me at home.” I try to sound calm. The elevator opens to the basement, and I break into a run toward my car.
“You’ll have to wait for me. I still have another store to check out,” she says, playful and stubborn.
I put her on speaker, pull up her location, and text Marco while starting the engine.
Me:
Get the fuck home now.
Marco:
On it, boss.
“Why are we turning here?” Dahlia asks Marco, then turns an accusatory tone to me. “This is because of you, isn’t it?”
“Just get home. I’ll meet you there.”
This time, my voice slips, tight with strain.
“Is something wrong, Xander? Are you okay?”
I huff. Of course she’d ask me that and not worry about herself.
“Can’t I just want to be with you?” I lie, the words uneven.
“You better not have left that meeting early just to?—”
Her voice cuts off with a scream.
The sound of metal crushing metal, glass shattering, tires screeching. Then nothing.
“Dahlia. Dahlia! Dahlia,answer me.” My voice shakes, each word breaking apart as I choke them out.
The silence on the other end is deafening.
“Please.Please,Dahlia.”
Chapter 45
Dahlia
My ears ring,and my head feels like it’s been split open. The world swirls and tips on its axis each time I try to open my eyes. My stomach flips like I’ve been on a roller coaster too many times. I keep my lids closed. Reality’s too loud. The closer I come to it, the more it hurts. I fight to stay asleep, but a loud, constant banging right beside me keeps pulling me out of it.
Bang, bang, bang.
Each pounding noise sends pain piercing through my skull.
“Stop!” I peel my eyes open, ready to lose it on whoever is making that noise, and freeze when everything comes into focus. The guard who was sitting beside me a moment ago is halfway out his window. I can’t even see the one who should be behind me. Fear licks up my spine as I ignore the pain and turn my head just enough to peer into the front seats. The front passenger is bent over the dash. My inhale cracks on a sob when my gaze clears enough to see the blood surrounding Marco’s head, which is resting on the splintered window.
The insistent banging hasn’t stopped, but it’s changed from a dull thud to a rippling, cracking noise. Cube-like shards of glass shatter around me, cutting the right side of my face, warm liquidstinging my eye. I’m sluggish to process any of it when arms grab me and try to yank me through the window.
My instincts flash to life and take control as a voice screams inside me that I can’t let them pull me out of this car. If I do, I won’t survive it.
I grip my seat belt and scream desperately, hoping the men in the car will regain consciousness.
