Page 5 of Reclaim (Deadly Hearts 3)

ChapterThree

Ruby

Grateful to find that this room has an en-suite bathroom, I freshen up before opening the closet the next morning.

Scowling at my apparent choices, there is no way I can conceal any weapons with the teeny skirts and mini-dresses, or my other alternative is Juicy Couture sweats in a variety of bright colors. Basically, I’m fucked.

Rooting thoroughly through the entire collection, of admittedly mostly designer gear, I happen upon a black dress that might fit the bill. It’s tight and low cut, but Tiff must’ve taken someone’s advice about not showing off both your ass and your tits at the same time because this one comes down to about my lower thigh.

I can work with that.

Stuffed at the top of the closet, I find an ankle-length, black, fake fur coat which will protect against the chill and hide my assets.

Allof them.

But it’s better than day old TAC gear, which will send up red flags before I’ve even stepped into the place. I will fit in much better with this attire.

Pawing through her dresser, I find a hair band and bunch my hair up into a messy bun before I seriously consider pinching a pair of her underwear before I gross myself out and continue to go commando in spite of the obvious risks.

I get dressed quickly, arm up with my knives and slip my own boots back on to give the outfit a badass edge to it. Then I bang loudly on the door continuously until one of Vinnie’s thugs opens it with a fierce frown.

I return it and shove past him, heading down the hallway and the stairs to find the kitchen.

Vinnie is waiting and with a critical eye, not to mention a fucking smirk, he says, “Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee,” I practically pant, and accept the mug of steaming hot wake-up juice that he hands me.

I take a savoring sip and then cradle it in my hands. Not offered anything to eat, I don’t ask. My stomach is still twisted into a knot. Not out of nerves, per se, more like anxiety to get going.

“I had a rethink,” Vinnie says, breaking the silence.

“Oh?”

“The picture you painted last night was…vivid,” he adds, pressing his lips together in an effort not to laugh. “Had I realized you were involved with Declan Gannon, I perhaps might’ve gone about this a different way. Regardless, you are here, you owe me, so we get this done, yeah?”

I nod even though I’m ninety-nine percent certain that was a rhetorical question. “So what’s your rethink?” I ask.

“I’m not sending any of my men in with you. Adam knows them and you will get precisely nowhere except killed. But I will track you.” He nods to his goon, standing silently in the corner. Not Frank, I notice with an inward chuckle.

The enormous, heavyset man approaches me with more than a stroke of caution and raises a device which looks suspiciously like an injection. I hold my hand up and back away.

“No!” I shout out, panic rearing up inside me like a wildfire out of control. “No, no, no, no, no…” I shake my head, continuing to back away until I hit the counters behind me.

“It’s just a little prick,” Vinnie says. “We won’t turn it on until an hour after you’ve landed. That’s more than enough time for you to find Adam and be scanned by his guys.”

“Not a fucking chance is he coming near me with that!” I shriek, sounding like a banshee, but not giving an actual fuck right now. I rub the top of my arm, shaking my head, pushing away the terrifying, crippling fear that has suddenly swamped me.

Vinnie gives me a curious look, but waves at his man to put the microchipper down on the kitchen island.

“This is for your protection,” he says carefully, recognizing trauma when he sees it.

It sort of helps. He isn’t insisting or wrestling me to the floor to stab me in the neck with the chipper. He has a point. It’s not even an injection. My gaze is transfixed to it, lying there all innocent on the black granite worktop. But it’s close enough to trigger me.

“And mine,” he adds with a slightly more insistent tone, which causes me to cut my gaze up to him on the other side of the kitchen. “You can do it yourself. But that microchip is going into the back of your neck like a good little kitten, one way or the other.”

He has pretty much left me no choice and it’s my own fucking fault for threatening him. I should’ve known there would be repercussions to such a dumb move. This is his turf; he is surrounded by his men. It would be different if I had the muscle to back up my attitude, but currently it’s just me.

That’s when it hits me.

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