by Eva Ashwood
There!
I’d been right. Flint wasn’t bluffing, and he wasn’t waiting around for me to make up my mind. I caught sight of his dark hair and leather jacket as he slid into a car halfway down the block.
“Wait!”
He glanced up, and the look on his face suggested he was hoping I would’ve just stayed in the diner, maybe eaten his burger as a consolation prize, and gone home.
But I couldn’t.
He knew something. I was sure of it.
And I needed to find out what it was.
I half expected Flint to jump into his car and speed away before I could reach him, but he actually waited, leaning against his open car door and watching me with an annoyed look as I hurried up to him.
His car was the same black sedan with tinted windows that I’d seen him driving before. When I neared it, my footsteps slowed.
“Will you tell me about my dad?” I asked, eyeing him across the top of the car.
His eyes narrowed, something like pity glinting in his dark irises. “You really think you can handle the truth, little girl? You really wanna know what dear old daddy was up to?”
I swallowed, my blood turning to water at his words. No, I honestly wasn’t sure I did want to know, but I had to. I needed to know if my entire life had been built on lies.
“I can handle it,” I finally said, my voice low.
“Then get in.” He shook his head resignedly before he dropped out of my view, sliding into the driver’s seat opposite me.
There was one moment of hesitation as I stood outside the dark car. Fuck. I wish I could text the Lost Boys and let them know where I am. Just in case.
But of course, if they knew where I was, they’d also know what I was doing.
Shoving down my fear, I reached for the door handle, pulled it open, and slid into the sedan. The interior of the car smelled strongly of stale cigarette smoke, and I tried to keep the grimace off my face as I inhaled shallowly through my nose.
The silence was beyond awkward as Flint pulled away from the curb, but I kept my cool.
“Where are we going?” I asked, keeping my gaze trained out the windshield.
“Someplace we can talk without bein’ overheard. You’re askin’ me for some information I really shouldn’t be blabbing to anybody.”
He shook his head, as if he really couldn’t believe he was doing this. We drove in silence for a few minutes, through the dimly lit streets of Baltimore, and I tried to find a landmark I recognized—since I’d started running with the Lost Boys, I’d seen a lot more of the city than I ever had before, but I didn’t know this neighborhood at all.
As he turned down a less busy street, I glanced over toward him, taking in his profile. His nose had a little bump halfway down it from what I assumed was a previous break.
“Can we—I mean, do you want to talk in here? Seems as private as anything. Why do we have to go somewhere else?”
He dropped his head for a second, a huff of laughter falling from his lips. When he glanced back over at me, his expression was harder than it had been earlier. “That’s a damn good question. Took you long enough to ask it.”
“What—what do you mean?”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I mean, who says we’re going to be talkin’, Princess?”
I’d gotten used to the Lost Boys calling me princess, and even though the tone of the word had been harsh and bitter at first, it’d changed over time. But the way it sounded coming from Flint was unsettling. What’s more—
“You did. I thought we were going to talk? About… about my father?”
He chuckled again. “You just get into strange men’s cars to talk? Come on. Don’t play fuckin’ dumb.”
My heartbeat surged in my chest as my breath caught in my throat. On instinct, my hand flew to the handle of the car door. Locked.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
How could I have been so fucking stupid? My desperation for answers about my father had made me rash and reckless, and maybe Flint had seen that. Maybe he’d known that if he just dangled the carrot of answers before my face, I would abandon safety and reason and follow him wherever he went.
We began to crawl to a slower pace, and the car turned down an alley. It was narrow and poorly lit, lined with a few large dumpsters that looked like hulking monsters in the darkness.
Oh, God. Nothing good ever happened in dark alleys.
My fingers shook as I pulled my phone from my coat pocket, turning away from Flint and swiping desperately to Bishop’s name in my text messages. But I had only managed to type out two words to him before rough hands grabbed my shoulders. Flint grappled the phone from my grip and threw it down to the floor of the car.
“Oh, no you don’t, you little bitch.”
Then his hands were on my shoulders again, pulling at the coat I wore, yanking the zipper down, sliding inside to cup my breasts. I thrashed in his hold, and when he moved one hand up to grab my chin in a bruising grip, I pulled my head back and bit him. Hard.
The nails of his other hand dug into the soft, tender flesh of my breast, making me gasp in pain.
“You bitch!” he snapped, swearing as he jerked his hand away from me. Red blood was smeared across his skin, and I could taste the coppery tang of it in my mouth.
Pure instinct drove me. In the few seconds it took him to recover, I turned away again, yanking at the old-fashioned pop-up lock and kicking the door open. I tumbled out, rocks and gravel digging into my knees through my leggings. The corners of my eyes stung as pain radiated out from the wounds. I pushed myself up, scrambling to get to my feet as the car’s other door slammed open.
This had been a mistake. A huge, monumental mistake. The reality of that chilled my blood even as my heart pounded heavily in my ears.
Run, Cora. Run. Run.
I needed to get away from Flint. I had no idea where I was or how to get back home, but I could figure all of that out if I could just get away from the large man with the unreadable eyes and the raspy voice.
As he rounded the car, I bolted. Flint had parked all the way at the end of the alley. All I had to do was get to the opening, get to the street. He wouldn’t attack me out in the open, would he?
But was there even anyone on the street to stop him?
“Get your spoiled little ass back here!”
When I was less than fifteen feet from the mouth of the alley, Flint grabbed my hair and yanked. He pulled me back, tugging me away from the alley opening. Freedom was at that opening, hope was at that opening, but I was pulled farther and farther away from it as I struggled in his hold.
He tossed me against the brick wall of one of the buildings lining the alley, then pressed against me, forcing my legs open.
“You’re kind of a dumb bitch.” He chuckled, the sound like rocks scraping together. “Poking around asking criminals about your daddy. And then you come here asking all these fucking questions. Dropping names. What made you think I was gonna tell you shit?” He laughed. “Not like it matters. You’ll be easy to get rid of. After some fun.”
Horrific realization wracked through me as he shoved my skirt up, tearing at my leggings and ripping the fabric like tissue paper. Cold air met my skin, and the feel of his hand on my bare thigh made vomit rise in my throat. Balling my hand into a fist, I lashed out wildly, catching him across the cheekbone with a wide right hook. He grunted and stepped back, his weight heaving away from my body temporarily. But before I could try to run again, he backhanded me, knocking the sense from between my ears.
A ringing sound filled my head, and I tasted a fresh wave of blood from where I’d bitten my lip.
Struggling to stay conscious, I hit him again, but my aim was worse the second time. He barely seemed to register the glancing blow, and then one large forearm pressed against my neck, pinning me to the wall and nearly cutting off my air supply. Panic spiked in my chest, and I spit the blood drawn from my lip back at him as
he tore at my panties.
“Goddammit.” He grimaced, but didn’t release me to wipe away the blood and spit on his cheek. Instead, he pressed into me even harder. “You think because you’re daddy’s little princess you can just walk around and ask whatever you want, get whatever you want, huh?” he sneered. “Well, fuck you and your daddy. You both are gonna get what’s coming—”
The loud squeal of tires cut him off. An engine roared, and the sharp, bright beams of headlights fell on us like a spotlight. Then several car doors slammed. Flint and I both heard them, but I was the only one who seemed affected as I looked over, my heart leaping, hoping for a miracle.
I let out a choked breath at what I saw. Flint’s forearm on my neck kept me from turning my head much at all, but from the corner of my eye, I saw three distinct figures approaching, backlit by the headlights behind them.
Bishop, Kace, and Misael.
Tears stung my eyes at the sight of them. I had no idea how they’d found us here—part of me couldn’t even believe they were real—but every fiber of my being cried out with relief as they approached.
“What. The. Fuck?”
Bish’s voice was tight with fury, and the three of them reached us in several long strides. He and Misael grunted as they hauled Flint off me. To my surprise, the older man didn’t fight, but he did look smug.
“It’s not polite, ruining another man’s fun, boys.” He looked between the three of them, gaze settling on Kace. “C’mon. You can’t tell me you blame me.”
I was still pressed against the wall, leaning against it for support as my knees wobbled beneath me, and I followed Flint’s gaze.
Kace looked almost unrecognizable. Pure, unadulterated fury contorted his features, nothing like the way he’d looked when he’d fought Caleb in the hall at Slateview that day. That had been totally controlled, strategic violence, but this was the complete opposite.
“Shut the fuck up, Flint.” His voice was rough. “You better shut the fuck up.”
He raised his hand, and for the first time, I saw what he held in a tight grip.
A gun.
It looked big and heavy, and the smooth metal was so dark that it was almost impossible to make out any of its details in the dim light.
Breathing heavily, Kace aimed the gun at the man who stood a few feet away from me, facing off with the Lost Boys.
“Oh. Big boy, are we now?” Flint laughed, a raspy chuckle that made my blood run cold. “Come on, kid. Put it away and leave. You’re not gonna do shit to me if you know what’s good for you. Nathaniel needs me a lot more than he needs you. You know she’s not worth it.”
All three of the guys stiffened at the mention of Nathaniel’s name, and Kace licked his lips, shaking his head as if simply denying it could make it untrue.
But it was true. I could see it in their faces.
Nathaniel Ward didn’t give a shit about me. He probably didn’t even care all that much about the Lost Boys. But Flint was high enough up in the organization that he probably did matter.
Which meant the three boys who’d come to rescue me had their hands tied.
If they did anything to Flint, Nathaniel would probably kill them for it.
Flint’s posture relaxed even more as he gave them all time to process that fact. There was something sly and predatory in his eyes as he shifted his attention back to me, taking in the sight of me with my skirt pushed up, leggings torn, and shirt askew. I shrank back from his gaze as my heart seemed to stop beating entirely.
He still planned to kill me. He still planned to use me.
Oh God. Would he make them watch?
“Besides…” He tilted his head to one side, taking a single step toward me. “Considering how much you little assholes have slacked off on work because you’ve been runnin’ around with her, I think I deserve a sample of the goods. She’s hot as fuck, I’ll give you that, but she can’t be that goddamn amazing in the sack. I’ll just take a few turns with her, and then—”
He never finished that sentence.
A sudden pop sounded, so loud and sharp it seemed to fill the entire space of the alley.
Flint’s whole body shifted backward from the impact of the bullet, and then he was falling, his form going completely limp as it dropped to the dirty pavement like a bag of rocks.
The headlights from Bish’s car still streamed down the alley, and they made Flint’s skin look washed-out and pale as his dark eyes stared up at the night sky above, unseeing.
Dead.
“I told you to shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch,” Kace rasped. “She’s ours.”
To Be Continued…
Bishop, Kace, and Misael promised
to protect me.
But after what they did, can I protect them?
Wild Girl, book two in the Crazy Vicious Love series, is coming soon!
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