Page 68 of Devious Roses

His grin spreads and his head slants sideways. “You think you’ve got a choice? That’s real adorable. Let me make it clear. You don’t—unless you count choosing between a bullet in the head or doing as I say a choice. Then, by all means, take your pick right now.”

I think over my options. There aren’t many.

Iamarmed. But if I so much as move my hand toward my purse, Renzo will likely open fire. The same is the case for my phone. The slightest movement that indicates I’m trying to contact someone will result in a fate similar to Sasha’s.

My only reasonable option is to go along with him. At least for now.

Fabio is outside. He’ll catch sight of me being escorted by Renzo. If he hasn’t already noticed I’m taking far too long…

“Put your hands up,” Renzo says. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day, sweetheart. You’re not scared of me, are ya? I’m harmless.”

His grin remains wide and menacing, causing a deep shiver to run through me. I do as he says, with my hands up, moving toward him.

“I told ya, we’re off to see your hubby. You don’t believe me? Whatcha think I’m about to do? Hurt you?” He grabs hold of my wrist with his free hand and yanks me toward him so aggressively, I stumble on my feet. He comes in close and whispers in my ear, “I wouldn’t dream of it. Yet.”

Renzo drags me along with him like I’m an accessory to tote around. He moves fast, his pace a brisk walk that has me staggering to keep pace at his side. His gun remains pressed into my spine, a constant reminder that I’m a pull of the trigger away from being shot.

More than once, I consider going for it anyway. Attempting to overtake him. I’ll almost certainly lose the fight.

We take the back entrance to city hall. The obscure doors that officials often use to escape members of the press and public. As elevator doors open on the ground floor and uniformed police officers appear on the opposite end of the hall, Renzo drags me off on a side detour.

I open my mouth to scream, but he digs the barrel of the gun further into my spine.

“Go ahead and try it, sweetheart,” he says. “I’d love to paralyze you for the rest of your miserable life. Your hubby would be so upset.”

“What is it exactly you want with us? Are you so fixated on the past that you’ve held an almost twenty year grudge?” I snap.

“Simply put? Yes. And I’ll tell you why—you don’t deserve what you’ve got. You didn’t earn it. Not like I have. What’s yours should be mine. What’s your hubby’s should be fucking mine. It just may be when I’m through with the two of yous. I don’t know why you’re fretting. I’ve already told you we’re headed to see him. I’m nice enough to come to him considering he’s under house arrest.”

“Something tells me there’s a catch.”

He shrugs as we reach the doors leading outside. “Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll find out when we get there. Try and fight me, I’ll knock you out. Don’t think I’ll go easy on you ’cuz you got a pussy. I’ll hit a woman, no problem. I’ll pistol whip you if you make me mad enough.”

He shoves me toward an unmarked van. The back doors spring open, and two masked men grab a hold of me.

I don’t bother fighting them. I’m outnumbered, and I’ll only piss them off. By the rough way they heave me into the back of the van, they’re not men I want to anger. My best bet is to hope Fabio’s already looking for me. That someone around the building, possibly a police officer, has noticed me being drawn into a van at the hands of sketchy men.

The van doors slam shut and make me flinch. The men are on me at once, one restraining me while the other searches me.

“Make sure she’s not armed. She might look all harmless, but this one’s got bite. She’s Psycho’s girl for a reason. She’s like one of those yappy chihuahuas. All innocent-looking ’til she’s sunk her teeth into your ankles.”

“She’s armed, Renzo. Take a look.” One of the men holds up my Glock. He dumps out the rest of my purse. “You want to check her phone?”

“Why not? The girl could’ve been a step ahead and already alerted him.”

The masked man clutching my empty purse turns to me. “What’s your passcode?”

I glare at him and say nothing.

“Bitch,” he says with a shake of rage in his voice, “tell me your passcode, or I’m about to make you see stars.”

Anxiety has begun to fill up every unsteady breath I take in. As grim as it sounds, I should be used to this by now—being held hostage or captive or being in life or death situations where my life flashes before my eyes. I should be used to dealing with horrible men, criminals willing to do anything, and yet it still pulls an adverse reaction from me.

Still strikes quiet panic. Still makes my heart race. Still feels traumatizing in some way I’ve learned to live with…

“Better yet, Jay, hold her face. We’ll try the facial recognition.”

I hold still in the grasp of the man named Jay as he clenches a hand shut on my chin and the other holds my phone up.

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