Devil May Care: Boxed Set (44 page)

They knew he was here, just like I did. And they knew I was talking to him. Which meant whatever he’d told me about Lucifer had been something real. Something they didn’t want me having.

I grabbed my bag, tucked my phone into my pocket, and headed out. The room would stay as it was until the maid came the next day to clean it up. I’d skip checking out, just in case someone was dumb enough to think I’d stay there. And just in case I was wrong and they’d followed us here.

Throwing my bag into the car, I jumped in and tore out of the parking lot. The traffic was going to drive me crazy and I was already high strung thanks to that call, knowing that Olivia was being held captive by Jacob and his men, probably scared out of her goddamned mind, as they did god knew what to her.

But at least I knew where I was going.

It took me what seemed like ages to get there, but when I pulled down the same dead end, rundown street and came to a stop outside the only house that almost but not quite looked like it belonged, I felt my chest tighten. Dagger knew something. Something Jacob didn’t want him to share. Jacob had Olivia, trying to convince me to stay away from Dagger, but he was an idiot and his plan backfired.

I wasn’t stupid enough to think Jacob would let Olivia walk after all of this. Or me, for that matter. Going after her wasn’t going to do me any good. Instead, I needed information and leverage. Two things I hoped that Dagger would be able to help me with.

I marched up the walkway and started to bang on the front door, except I only got one bang in, because as soon as I touched it, the door swung inwards a little bit. It was completely unlocked and open. Not a good sign. Somehow, Dagger didn’t strike me as the trusting type who just left his door open for people to walk in uninvited.

Frowning, I stepped over the threshold, glancing back at the door. I noticed that the chain had been broken on it, suggesting the door had been forced open. Another not so good sign.

I moved farther into the room, going as quietly and as slowly as possible, my eyes searching the hallway. I didn’t want to get caught off guard. Cursing myself for knocking so loudly at first, I tensed up as I came to the corner that led to the living room. With a deep, steadying breath, I braced myself before moving swiftly around the corner into the living room.

I froze as soon as I came around.

“Shit.”

Dagger was there, lying on the floor, his blood tainting it a dirty, muddy red color. I nearly turned away then and there to hurry quickly from the house, when I heard him inhale. It was a wet, rattling breath, but it was there. He coughed heavily as he tried to push the air back out from his lungs, blood spitting up and dying his lips a strangely bright red at odds with the deep dark color pooling out around him.

I considered my options. Dagger was going to die. Calling paramedics wouldn’t change that; I could tell by the hole in his chest and the spattering of additional spray. He’d been shot, probably with a shotgun from fairly close range. He was tore up and he’d been bleeding long enough that nothing I did now would save him.

The smart thing would be to go now before the people who did this came back to finish me off, or worse, the police showed up and decided I was the guilty party.

But I remembered why I was here. Dagger had something Jacob didn’t want me knowing and I had to get it out of him, even if it was taken from his dying breath.

Cursing again, I dashed into the room, slipping slightly as I stepped into the blood. Kneeling next to him—the blood soaked through my jeans, cooling rapidly—I tried to get him to focus on me.

“Who did this?” I asked. I cradled his head in my lap, probably not much of a comfort, but there wasn’t much else I could do. “Dagger, I need you to tell me. Who did this to you?”

Dagger coughed and sputtered again, spraying my face with a light freckling of blood that unnerved me, but couldn’t seem to answer me.

“Damnit, I need to know!”

He was trying, I realized as he reached up with a big, burly hand and grabbed my shirt by the collar. He jerked me down so that my cheek was turned and his lips were at my ear. He coughed again, wheezing as he sucked in a rattling breath, but finally he said, “Lucifer.” Then he died.

Olivia

I didn’t recognize the man sitting in the seat in front of me. Never seen him before in my life. He was turned around awkwardly in his seat so that he could aim the gun at me and it stupidly gave me hope that maybe this awkward position would be enough to let me escape. He was turned away from me right now, his face in profile as he spoke with the driver, who clearly knew him because
he
wasn’t afraid.

Not like me.
I
was terrified.

“Think that was smart?” the cabbie who was not a cabbie commented. “I mean, he’s not the kind of guy you wanna mess with, you know?”

“Don’t be a pussy your whole life,” the man with the gun snapped. “Rome ain’t nothin’ to us, period.”

Rome.
I had of course guessed that he had something to do with this. My luck couldn’t be
that
bad that there would be a group of crazy motorcycle guys after me and then get kidnapped by a completely random and unrelated event, right? So it was sort of comforting to know that it was related. But not really.

I hadn’t forgotten that these men—I didn’t know if it was these two men specifically—had tried to rape me to prove a point not too long ago, so I didn’t really feel great about being in their company. But at least I sort of knew who they were and that meant that Rome would probably—

I stopped myself there. What did Rome care if I was in trouble? Hadn’t I just stormed off because I thought he was a controlling asshole? And now I, what, expected him to ride in on a white horse to my rescue?

No. If I wanted out of this, then it was going to be up to me, I decided.

The guys continued talking to each other, giving me time to think about my options. The man with the gun was still aiming the weapon at me, but his grip was lax, almost like he was holding a can of beer or a cell phone or something equally as innocuous. Like he could just accidentally shoot me at any moment—because
that
would just about top off a perfectly shitty day.

Still, maybe his loose grip and his distraction via conversation with the cabbie would be enough to let me escape.

I glanced towards the door. I was closer to the passenger side, rather than the driver’s side, which was closer to the man with the gun.
But
he would have to maneuver around the seat to get a good shot at me—I hoped—which would buy me precious seconds. We were driving pretty steadily now, but I saw a stop light coming up. With any luck we would catch it and I could pop open the door and hop out.

The idea of hopping out of a recently moving, maybe still moving vehicle into the middle of the street didn’t exactly thrill me. If anything, I dreaded it. Nausea made my stomach roil at the thought and sweat coated my palms. It felt too hot and stuffy in here, making me almost feel faint. I was probably panicking or something, so I did my best to breathe in and out evenly in an attempt to calm myself down. There was a little bit still until we hit the light—assuming it turned red before we could make it through—so I needed to be calm until then.

What are you going to do once you get out of the car?
a small voice in the back of my head wanted to know. And, honestly, I would have liked to know, too. I didn’t have a plan that far. Getting out of the car and away from the gun seemed like the biggest part of the plan. Plus, with the stop light coming up so quickly, I didn’t have a lot of time to be thinking about what to do
after
I managed the incredibly implausible escape plan that I’d miraculously hatched in only a few short minutes.

Honestly, I figured I would run. Run to the sidewalk and dive into a local business, begging and hollering for help. Surely
someone
would do something. Even if it was only call the police. If I couldn’t get to the sidewalk, then I could pound on the window of the nearest car. The
far
side of the nearest car, because I definitely didn’t want to be in shooting distance of that gun without anything between it and me.

So, I had a little bit of a plan. It wasn’t great. It didn’t leave me feeling confident and sure of myself, but I at least had something. I wouldn’t wait here until they realized that Rome and I weren’t serious, despite being married, weren’t in love or anything to one another. In fact, they could learn that I’d just run away from Rome at any moment and it might all be over.

I had to take a risk. Now.

Impatient and freaked out, I waited for the stop light to get closer. My heart hammered in my chest and I thought it was a wonder that no one said anything about it, no one heard it. But the guys up front just continued to talk about how dangerous Rome was—confirming my suspicions that he wasn’t the kind of guy to get involved with—and all but ignored me. I watched the gun as it motioned back and forth, the man holding it speaking with his hands.

Too fast and not fast enough, the stop light finally came, and it was my lucky day: we caught a red light. The car came to a halt in traffic and with a deep breath, I made my move. I jerked myself across the seat to the passenger door, having just enough sense to duck down low as I did in case the man with the gun decided to just start shooting first and aiming later.

“Shit! She’s trying to get out! Fuck, man, catch her already!” This was the cabbie, and he sounded frantic as he debated between running the red light—a bad idea given that traffic had already started the other way—and just staying put, letting his buddy take care of it.

While he seemed indecisive, his friend was not.

“Goddammit, really?” He sounded more annoyed than anything else, and just as I felt the metal of the door handle at my fingertips, it slipped away.

Blinking in surprise, I saw that the door was now open, for just a second anyway. But all thoughts of escape were thrown out the window rather quickly because the man who had been holding the gun all this time was slipping into the seat and closing the door behind him. I scampered and scooted away from him as quickly as possible to avoid getting sat on.

I looked up in time to see the barrel of the gun pressing into my forehead, right between my eyes. I froze.

“Don’t fucking move,” the man said. Irritation shone on his features as he stared at me, and he didn’t look away even as he called at his friend. “Jesus, Marcus, would you just fucking go already? It’s a damn green light, ain’t it?”

“Shit.”

The cabbie who was not a cabbie mashed on the gas pedal, causing the car to jump and squeal as he drove through the light and back into traffic. After a few minutes of driving, the gunman spoke to me again.

“You think that shit’s funny?” he demanded, though the question seemed rhetorical. “You think this is, what, a game? That if you die, you just get a do over or something?” He pulled back the hammer of the gun, making a clicking sound that made my teeth click together quickly, nearly catching my tongue. “Think again. I put a bullet in your head and that’s the last chance you get. No coming back. No do overs. No save points. You’re fucking dead and dead is dead, you get me?”

I was shaking so badly that I didn’t think I could nod, especially because I didn’t want to move with that barrel pressing coolly against my skin.

“I asked you a fucking question!”

His voice was a low, gravelly roar, causing me to flinch. I hated to admit it, but I felt tears prick at my eyes, and when I forced myself to nod, they spilled across my cheeks and dripped down off my chin.

He grinned, and for a moment I was reminded of those men in the alley. I didn’t know if he was one of them, but he could have been. The way they laughed and seemed to be enjoying themselves seemed similar. Similar enough that I felt like vomiting.

“Good,” he said. “Now, unfortunately, I’m going to have to do something since you tried to get away and it’s clear I can’t trust you anymore. But, if you promise to behave yourself, I won’t hurt you. Just get a little…kinky with you.”

I thought I would throw up right then and there, sure for one awful second that he
was
one of those men who had come after me. That he was going to finish what he started, and for a brief, terrible second, I thought maybe it was better to just take the bullet. But then the guy up front piped up.

“Jesus, you’re fucking scaring her! Just tie the bitch up and let’s be done with her.”

The gunman rolled his eyes, but even as he had the gun trained on me, he reached for his bag from the front seat, pulling it to the back with us. “Unzip it,” he told me, and I hesitated only a moment before listening. I didn’t want to die. I really didn’t want to die.

I unzipped it and found cords rolled up inside. Frowning, I almost asked what they were for—then I reconsidered.

“Take them out,” he told me. “And tie up your feet. I’ll get to your arms in a second.”

Shaking badly, I did as he said, knowing that I was putting myself in a position that I probably wouldn’t be able to get myself out of. But then I wouldn’t get out of dying if I didn’t do it, so I figured this was the lesser of two evils. Dejectedly, I bound my ankles together with a length of cord. When I was finished, the man before me tapped the driver’s shoulder. “Here, take this,” he insisted, shoving the gun at the man.

“Jesus, I’m fucking driving!” The cabbie resisted, but ultimately took the gun even as he swerved halfway into the other lane. “Damnit, this is stupid.”

“Just keep it trained on her! I gotta tie her hands.”

And he did tie my hands. He even did it behind my back, so there was even less chance that I’d be able to work them loose. It meant I was sitting awkwardly with my bound legs on the floorboard, but my body half turned to find some sort of room for my arms, which were held uncomfortably at my back. It sucked, but I reminded myself that I was alive and right now, that was the biggest thing. After all, whether I had a plan or not, there would be no escaping if I was dead.

I didn’t even try to come up with a crazy plan for escape this time, because I knew it would be pointless. My legs and hands were tied. The man was now in the backseat with me. And the gun was still in play, even if the driver looked less like he would be able to shoot me from his vantage point.

“Now, time to make sure you don’t get any crazy ideas.” The guy he pulled out what looked like a black scarf. It was just a thick stretch of material. I flinched back from him when he reached for my face. “Hold still, you crazy bitch!” Forcing myself to keep still, I let him lean forward. That was when I realized what the scarf was for.

Blindfold.

He wrapped it around my eyes, making sure I couldn’t see much more than a few dark shadows through the heavy material, and tied it securely at the back of my head. Several strands of my long hair got caught in the knot, pinching and pulling uncomfortably, but I didn’t think he’d adjust it for comfort’s sake so I kept my mouth shut.

“Now sit there and shut up,” he told me, sounding annoyed. I felt him move away from me and was at least marginally relieved for it. “I don’t want any trouble. If you try something again, though, I’m gonna just shoot you. You ain’t worth the trouble.”

I pushed away the increasing sense of panic, of how wrong this had all gone. How long ago had I gotten into this cab, trying to catch a flight away from Rome? How long ago had I thought Rome and Tom were the worst things in my life?

Not very, but it felt like years.

Tears lined my eyes again, but this time when they fell the fabric soaked them up. I was grateful. I wasn’t proud of the fact that they’d seen me cry and I definitely didn’t want to let them see it twice. At the very least, I was able to keep the sobs quiet.

The car moved beneath me and I tried to keep from falling over as we turned a corner or came to an abrupt stop. The men argued some about the one guy’s driving, about the other guy’s stupid plans, about what they should get for dinner.

They were so casual about the whole thing and it was really unnerving me. It was so much worse, too, because I knew that jerk with the gun had been enjoying at least some of this. And I wasn’t going to like anyone who reminded me of the men who tried to rape me. Especially not ones from the same club who now had me kidnapped.