by Ella Miles
“Not when her life is in danger.”
“What? She’s in danger?”
“You’re the danger. You interrupted my wedding. You showed up covered in blood at my hotel. That wasn’t a coincidence, not given my past. Now answer me. Who. Are. You?”
Who is this man?
I glance at the ring finger on his hand. “Seems like you got married just fine by the look of the ring on your finger.”
“I’ll torture you. I will do anything to keep my wife safe.”
His breath is hot on my face, and I have no doubt that he’ll follow through on his threat.
“So torture me.”
His nostrils flare—his face inches toward mine. I flinch, expecting pain. My eyes squeeze, but when nothing other than the force of his hand still on my bicep comes, I open them hesitantly.
“Are you hurt?”
I blink rapidly. Did he just ask me if I’m hurt?
His eyes roam up and down my body, looking for the source of the blood.
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
He tilts his head, getting a better look at my side.
I jerk my hand across my broken ribs. “Like I said, I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”
His gaze softens.
I bite my lip, trying to keep any unchecked feelings from creeping up. This man is far too attractive for a sinister criminal. He’s way too comfortable corning me in a dark alleyway and threatening to torture me. This isn’t his first time.
I can’t want him. He’s a monster, not to mention married. Don’t let the hint of kindness in his eyes affect you. He’ll ruin you the first chance he gets.
But then his hand releases my bicep and inspects the wound on my side. And damn, does his touch warm my cold heart to him. Until…
“Hey, that hurts,” I hiss and jerk back into the brick wall of the building.
“You should see a doctor. You’re going to need stitches. The cut is deep, but it didn’t hit any major organs. If you don’t get stitches, it will get infected and leave a bad scar. And if you don’t stop the bleeding, you’ll die.”
“I know what will happen! Do you really think this is the first time something like this has happened to me?”
“I’ll call an ambulance for you.”
“I don’t need an ambulance.”
“You’re going to walk the twenty blocks to the hospital in your state?”
“Well, no, but…” I was hoping since he’s already so invested that this guy would do me the honors of taking me. But then why would he? It’s clear he hates me. And it’s not like he has a car handy. Men like him, though—powerful, rich men, always have a way of using money to help them.
“What’s your name?” His tone is softer, kinder this time. It seems since he didn’t get me to answer with threats that he’s going to try the honey approach.
“Why do you want to know my name? Just kill me if you think I’m a threat.” I think that through a minute. “Actually, yes, kill me. I don’t want to spend my life running. And any threat your family faces will die with me. They aren’t after you; they are after me.”
“Tell me your name.”
“Tell me yours.”
“Beckett.”
“Beckett what?”
“Just Beckett. It’s technically my last name, but I don’t like my first name. I’ve always gone by Beckett. Maybe I’ll take my wife’s last name, Monroe, now that we’re married.”
“How very modern of you.”
“Name,” he says sternly.
“Ri.” I expect him to ask my last name or my full name, something more than the short nickname I go by.
“Thank you for telling me, Ri.”
My lips twitch up into something that resembles a smile. Why am I smiling at this asshole? He’s still holding me hostage in this alleyway when I should be running.
He pulls out his phone from his back pocket and texts something.
I should run, but there is something drawing me to him. I don’t know why but I feel safe with this man. He may be the devil, but maybe that’s exactly what I need to keep the monsters from finding me—a devil on my side.
“Now, I can call an ambulance, but doctors will ask questions. Do you want that?”
“I thought you said I should see a doctor—that I don’t have a choice?”
“You always have a choice. Go to the hospital, answer questions, and possibly end up in jail for your trouble.”
“Why would I end up in jail?”
“Because you walked out of an elevator with blood on your hands. I’m sure the security cameras captured that.”
“That’s because I’m bleeding, you asshole!”
“Yes, but not all of that blood is yours, is it?”
My mouth drops. He’s good.
“That’s what I thought. Or you can walk away and take your chances that the blood loss or infection won’t kill you and that you’ll only scar.”
I frown and fold my arms over my chest. “Those are my only two choices?”
“From what I can tell, yes.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re not going to help me? Or get rid of me? You’re just going to let me walk away? I thought you wanted to know who I was and how I put your family in jeopardy.”
He smirks. “I got your name.”
“You think Ri is my full name?”
“No, but it’s enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“To figure out exactly who you are and who is after you.”
“Okay…but that still leaves me free.”
“You’re not a threat.” He looks bored. “So what will it be? Do you want me to call that ambulance for you?”
“No, jackass. I can take care of myself.”
I shoulder past him, letting my hand linger on his chest to ensure I get the most amount of blood on him and to double-check my suspicions that he’s packing as much muscle under his shirt as I thought. From what I can tell, he’s extremely ripped.
I peek my head out once I reach the street. The road is eerily quiet, but I don’t have a choice but to head out into it. There is no other exit except back to Beckett. Some hero he is. He’s not even a good devil. He should have killed me. Despite my thin frame, lack of muscles, or knowledge of how to use a weapon, I’m more dangerous than I seem. And if they associated me with him, I’m now a risk to him.
I start running again, pushing the asshole out of my head. I make it ten steps before I feel someone’s strong grip on me.
For a split second, I grin. Maybe he is my hero after all?
But when I look up, it’s not Beckett gripping my arm. And unlike Beckett, this man doesn’t have a kind bone in his body.
3
Beckett
I get the weirdest feeling in my gut as I watch Ri walk away. Run is more like it. I’ve seen a lot of strong, badass women in my life, but never one that had such control over her fear. Whatever she’s been through, life dealt her a bad hand.
Too bad I’m too much of an asshole to get involved. It’s my wedding night, and I’m not going to bring whatever shit she’s dealing with into my marriage. I don’t know if she’s a risk to my wife’s life or not, but I’m not taking any chances.
Me: Do you need anything else on the girl?
Langston: No, I should be able to figure out who she is within the hour. The security footage from the hotel will make it easy to identify her.
Me: Text me when you do.
I can always count on my old friend to hack into security systems and figure out who people are. Langston is the best at it. He has her picture and the start of her name; it wouldn’t shock me if he identified her within the next five minutes; that’s how good he is.
I’m about to pocket my phone when I get another text.
Angel: This dress is itchy. I don’t think I can last much longer…
Me: Wait fiv
e minutes! I want to undress you. Don’t you dare start without me!
I run to the street from the alleyway. I look left toward the direction Ri went expecting to see the backside of her as she continues to run away. Instead, nothing.
I frown.
She couldn’t have possibly run the full block before I looked for her. Did she dart into one of the buildings? They all look deserted.
It’s like she vanished into thin air, like she didn’t really exist at all.
The old me wants to go investigate. The intrigue almost gets to me when…
Angel: Oops, it just slipped off.
Her text is accompanied by a very naked picture of her lying on the hotel bed.
I groan.
Me: Oops, my ass. I’m going to make you pay for that.
I look left one more time, but it’s clear which direction I’m going to be running toward tonight—my wife.
4
Ri
My heart pounds as two sets of hands grab onto my biceps. My right arm is still throbbing from where Beckett seized me just moments before. These two men are brutes; my only way of escaping is to outsmart them.
I open my mouth to yell, even though I don’t know what good it will do me. I doubt Beckett will come running to my rescue, and no one else is on the street. But before I can get a sound out, a hand clamps over my mouth.
I scream into his hand, but my muted wail barely carries beyond myself. I try biting, but this man is at least smart enough to avoid that. He holds my chin up, forcing my mouth to stay closed.
The two men start dragging me as I kick, trying to get free.
My only solace is these men aren’t the darkness I was running from. This is just plain bad luck.
It means I could escape.
I’m shoved into the back of a van parked on the side of the road. The second all three of us are inside, the van starts moving. There must be a third man in the driver’s seat.
I struggle against their tight grips, but then my arms are jerked behind my back, and I feel the familiar thread of rope being tied around my wrists.
The hand moves from my mouth.
I instantly scream, which only makes it easier for a gag to be inserted.
Finally, I’m shoved hard to the floor. I land on my right side, directly on my open wound.
I groan at the impact and feel my skin burning. I’m guessing my cut has widened. Before this, I might have had a fifty-fifty chance at surviving without seeing a doctor. But now, I’m guessing my odds are more like thirty-seventy.
The two men are behind me, so I flip them off with my bound hands. Not that they notice, but it makes me feel better to do something.
I blink back the stinging tears, refusing to let them out.
They aren’t the darkness.
The danger isn’t that bad.
I’ve seen worse.
I can survive this kidnapping. And if not, death would be preferable to what awaits me if he catches me.
My eyes cut behind me, but the two men sit silently on the floor of the van.
The rope isn’t cutting into my wrists, so I’m sure I could free myself if I really tried, but then what? There are still two huge men in the back of the van with me. I wouldn’t make it far.
The van stops less than five minutes later.
The two guys immediately open the back doors and start dragging me out. My skin scrapes across the van’s rough carpet. Why not add a carpet burn to my list of injuries?
They yank me to my feet, once again holding my biceps. They don’t draw their weapons, nor do they speak—to me or each other. No words have been exchanged since they kidnapped me.
I wish they would speak; maybe then it would give me some clue as to who they are and what I’m dealing with.
They lead me into the back entrance of a building. It’s only then do I hear murmurs of voices trailing down the hallway toward us.
I stop, but the man to my left yanks on my bicep, ensuring I move forward toward the voices.
Keep moving forward; it’s better than the alternative.
We approach a door, and the men don’t have to open it for me to know it’s a nightclub. The boom of the base through the door gives away our surroundings.
We walk into the nightclub in a single file, but neither man lets go of either of my biceps as we head to the back of the room. The lights are dimmed and the club lights from the various discos and contraptions overhead flash so quickly that it’s hard to make out much of my environment.
I already know not to hang my hopes on any of these drunk assholes in this club, but I don’t expect such blatant ignorance. Eyes divert away from me if they notice the ropes, blood covering my torso, and my two captors. However, most of the people we brush past in the overcrowded club are too self-consumed to even glance our way.
We stop when we reach the corner of the club where there is a man dressed in all black standing in front of a rope that leads upstairs—no doubt to the VIP area. He glances quickly at the two men holding onto me with a slight raise of his eyebrow before he nods, then unhooks the rope, removing it from our path.
The men still haven’t spoken as I’m simultaneously pulled and pushed up the stairs. The music quiets with each step up away from the main club area, but that only allows for more room for my heart to beat louder than the base.
“Who are you taking me to?” I ask, hoping they will give me some information about my fate.
As expected, they ignore me.
We reach the top of the staircase; the floor opens up to a vast area with clear views of the entertainment below. There are men lounging on couches throughout the fancier, less crowded version of what we just walked through. There are a few half-naked women sitting on a few of the men’s laps, but otherwise, you might not think anything nefarious is going on up here.
I feel the danger the second I step foot inside.
The men immediately stop talking as soon as they spot us. Almost a dozen eyes land on me, and I wait for some clue as to who they are or what they are going to do with me.
Instead, I’m met with more silence. That’s my first clue who they are. The second is a tattoo of a ghost on one of the men’s hands.
“You’re the Phantom Brotherhood.”
“And you’re smarter than you look,” a man on the far end of the velvet couch says. He has an amber drink in his hand, and his legs are spread wide, taking up most of the couch like he doesn’t give a damn that he’s supposed to be sharing it with anyone else. He must be their leader.
His devilish green eyes turn toward the man holding onto my right bicep, and I get a flash of the ghost tattoo on his neck. “Good job with this one. She’ll go for a pretty price once we get her stitched up. Where’d you find her?”
“Wandering alone on State Street.”
The Phantom leader’s light eyebrows shoot up, and he cocks his head as a sly smile spreads over his face. “You are a brave one.”
“Let me go or you’ll be sorry.”
“What is a pretty thing like you going to do about it?” He looks almost bored. His eyes only glistened when he saw dollar signs. He doesn’t realize the truth—who I really am, how valuable I am, how dangerous I am.
“It’s not me you should be worried about.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“The leader of the Phantom Brotherhood.”
“I’m Ares. I’m not afraid of anyone. I rule this club, these streets, this city. It’s you who should be afraid of me.”
I smirk. “I’m not afraid of you.”
His nostrils flare. “Maybe I should enjoy you first before I sell you, see if I can change your mind.”
I take a slow, steadying breath. My mouth is always getting me into trouble. I should learn from these men and stay silent more.
He chuckles. “What’s your name, brave one?”
“Ri.”
There’s an audible gasp around the room. I feel everyone’s burning stares—none more than Ares. His mouth fal
ls open.
They can’t know who I am, can they? I just said my nickname, not my full name.
Ares stands and walks over to me. The men on either side of me stare at me incredulously. I feel their grips loosen instead of tighten—they know.
I straighten my shoulders, trying to appear brave. I can handle these men. I just can’t be returned to my life before. I’ll do anything but that.
“How?” Ares asks, his voice breaking.
I frown, not sure what he’s asking.
“How…?” He clears his throat. “Where have you been? What happened to you, Rialta?” He looks at the gash on my side.
I suck in a breath.
And then Ares takes a step back, running his hand through his long, dirty blonde hair and pacing around the room. “We have Rialta Corsi, Princess of Chicago.”
There is quiet muttering around the room.
Ares stops suddenly, his eyes jerking to me. I can’t tell if it’s fear or excitement that he has me—maybe a bit of both. “Jesus, I have a Corsi princess. I’m about to become the most powerful man in the country…”
“Or you’re about to become a dead man. I’m not sure how you are going to be able to explain to my father that you tied me up and almost sold me.”
Ares’s face drains.
“I thought you weren’t afraid of anyone. I thought you ruled this city.” I laugh. “Who really rules the city? The Phantom Brotherhood controls from the Little Calumet river to Washington Park, but only at the direction of the Corsi Crime Family. You have no real power unless we grant it to you.”
Ares is silent once again, as is the rest of the room. That doesn’t mean communication isn’t happening between them. I’ve heard about the Phantom Brotherhood. They operate like ghosts, silently sneaking in and out while committing crimes. That’s their strength.
“Let me go and I won’t tell my father about this. Let me go and I’ll show you mercy.”
The leer on Ares’s face scares me, but I don’t show it.
“Oh, I have a better idea.”
Just don’t return me to…
“What do you do when you can’t defeat the devil? You marry the devil’s daughter.”