Page 90 of Midnight Curfew

Del slams on the brakes, and the SUV screeches to a halt. She darts her gaze out of the window. I don’t know if she knows the golf course well, but we’re at the back of the field house.

We open the doors, Del pulling her out of the cab. He spins her around and looks down at her as I tighten the band around her wrists. A smile lights up in his eyes, and I’m not sure this guy even knew she existed when he was at Marymount, but he sure knows now.

His eyes trail down and back up her body, and unease makes me pause. She’s in her underwear. I think I noticed that. She and Clay were clearly in the middle of something in the back of the limo. She’s only in panties and a little corset.

“What a waste,” he gripes.

I don’t think Clay is letting her go to waste at all. She’s beautiful. There’s no denying it. She looks a lot like her brother, but her eyes are brown. Not green fire, like his.

Del’s hands spread over her stomach, sliding to her back, and she fights, hollering at the top of her lungs.

And all at once, Milo sinks his teeth into her ass, but before I can push him and get her inside, she kicks him and then throws herself on top of him. They tumble to the ground, her knee slamming into his groin.

“Ah!” he bellows.

Oh, Jesus.

She growls, and he yanks her hair, pulling her head back. I shove her off him, and she lands on the driveway on her back.

Immediately, she bolts up, but I’m there, pinning her down. I place a vial in front of her face as I hover over her. “You wanna remember this?”

She stills, her breath hitching.

She looks at the drug and then back to me, her hands crushed behind her.

She swallows hard, nodding. If I force this down her throat, she’ll be unconscious. She won’t be able to fight back, run, give a positive ID…

I don’t want to give it to her. I want her willing, like we agreed.

Of course, I wouldn’t give it to her. She doesn’t know that, though.

“I doubt I’ll remember it anyway,” she spits out.

I simply chuckle, hauling her off the ground. She’s so much like him.

“Take her.” I shove her to Milo.

We lead her inside the dark building, where the scents of wood polish and leather furniture linger. We push her through the anteroom, a sitting area with tables, couches, and a bar gleaming in the moonlight that streams through the windows. We don’t head straight to the Wolfe Room—empty tonight anyway—but take the door to the left. After a moment, we’re in a hallway.

I don’t have to do this. There’s still time.

Even if I stop this now, though, my friends might not stand for it.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, the hoodie making the May heat feel like August.

A sob escapes her, but she stifles it, and I can imagine she just wants to go home.

Or maybe she just wants Clay.

At what point did it hit my stepsister that there was no escape? I watch Liv, almost seeing Sophia. Was it almost like this for her? “There are witnesses,” Liv says. “There were cameras on the streets.”

I wet my throat. “You’ll go home in one piece,” I reply. “We had an agreement. I want what you promised.”

She spins around, getting in my face. “I never promised.”

Oh, yes, you did. You can’t just jerk people around and not expect their wrath.

“Walk,” I growl in her face. “Walk and pay up, and this won’t have to escalate. I know how to hurt you without laying a hand on you.”