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Silver turns back to me and sighs, rolling his eyes in awhat can you doway that I’m clearly supposed to sympathize with. “Two seconds, Mr. Lindman. Don’t worry, I won’t forget about you.” He looks to his two companions. “Keep ‘em company, fellas,” he orders, then follows the newcomer out of the room and slams the door behind him.
Somehow, the second Silver is gone, the temperature in the room drops. The taller goon takes a step closer, looks me over slowly. Then, for the first time since any of them came in, his eyes flick to Raleigh, still pressed into the corner. My blood goes cold.
Silver had been purposely ignoring her, perhaps uninterested in a hostage who didn’t directly relate to his goals. But his henchmen have clearly always been aware of her presence.
The goon looks back to me.
“Maybe we need to sweeten the deal for you, huh Sheriff?” he asks. He’s affecting the same rasp as Silver, but it’s deeper, more like a growl. “We did interrupt your good time, after all. Seems only fair, right?”
Whatever he’s about to say is going to make this situation ten times worse. I know it, even before his raspy voice goes on:
“What if we let you finish what you and your pretty friend started last night? That’s pretty fucking generous, right?”
We’re both quiet at first, trying to absorb the implications of this offer. The goon lets the moment stretch, then pulls a gun out of his own coat. His cohort follows suit. The two men raise their guns and cock them.
I can’t believe I’m even thinking this, but I wish Silver would come back. At least his threats were straightforward.
The goon says, “I’m waiting.”
Raleigh chokes, realizing what he means. “You’resick,” she hisses.
I have no better words myself. Two guns instead of one are pointed directly at my face, and I’m under no illusions that they won’t go off if I refuse this ‘generous’ deal. And if I try to bluff, tell these fuckers that Raleigh isn’t important enough to me to be used as a hostage, they could kill her outright. Or do what they want to her themselves. Then I might as well kill myself anyway before Thomas can get his hands on me.
From a mile away, I hear my own voice say calmly, “You’re right. That is very generous.”
The goon nods, accepting this gratitude magnanimously. He still hasn’t lowered the gun.
He’s waiting for us to get started.
Gritting my teeth, I ignore every instinct and turn my eyes away from the guns. I look at Raleigh, pressed as far into the corner of the room as she can get. She’s already staring at me, her hazel eyes so wide I can see the whites of them.
I’m not going to ask her to come to me, closer to the guns and the men threatening our lives. Instead, I brace myself against the pain in my ribs and knee, and push out of the bed.
My knee holds, and I limp around the end of the naked mattress toward Raleigh. She tries to shrink away, but there’s nowhere else for her to go. I hate that she’s looking at me like I’m the one about to hurt her, but worse than that, I feel sick that I have no choice.
I was wrong about tonight. I was wrong to suspect her.
Raleigh Warwick was just looking for a good time, and fate led her to me instead.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and reach for her.
CHAPTER 4
Raleigh
My first timeis going to happen in a room with a bare mattress and asbestos in the walls, with a man who’s an enemy of my family, in front of two masked voyeurs holding us at gunpoint.
This is worse than any nightmare I could conjure.
Derrick stops a foot away from me. He’s limping, and standing like his side hurts him. There’s dried blood caked to the right side of his face, and on the left side of his jaw, a bruise is blooming. His grown and gray hair is sticking up at odd angles, and his nice clothes are rumpled and torn.
He looks nothing like the cocky, put-together gentleman I met hours ago. Over his shoulder, the goon who proposed this horrifying idea sits himself on the bare mattress. He leans back, getting comfortable. The gun is still in his hand, but it’s no longer pointed toward us.
I can’t breathe, and I’m too horrified to move. Even if I had anywhere to go, my adrenaline has abandoned me, turning my limbs to liquid. Derrick’s body mostly hides me from sight, but that’s hardly a comfort.
“I’m sorry,” Derrick whispers. He raises his hand. I flinch when his fingers touch my cheek, but he grips my chin firmly, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Look at me,” he says, quiet but firm. “Don’t look anywhere else. Just at me. Do you understand?”
