Beyond the Horizon (Sons of Templar MC #4)(90)

“Well, hurry over here so I can corrupt you some more, Mrs. Breslin,” he commanded roughly.

My stomach dipped. “I’ll do that. Love you,” I replied throatily.

“Love you, flower,” he returned.

I rang off. “Bex,” I called.

I was met with silence and something crawled up my spine, a sixth sense of uneasiness.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” a deep voice asked from the shadows.

I jumped and turned, my heart pounding in my chest. “Lucky! You scared the jeebus out of me,” I scolded him, putting my hand on my chest.

He stepped forward, grinning. “I’d hate to rob you of your jeebus,” he teased.

“What are you doing here?” I asked after scowling at him. Apart from Asher and Bex, Lucky was someone I felt like I could be my complete self with. He didn’t treat my shyness like the cripple it was. His gentle teasing and easy manner coaxed me out of my shell quickly. He was like a brother.

He crossed his arms. “Had to pick up some paperwork shit,” he explained with a grimace as if collecting paperwork was akin to shoveling horse manure.

“My heart bleeds for you,” I shot sarcastically.

He grinned. “Kitten’s got claws. What are you doing here? Practicing for your big debut? I think the only way your husband will let you on that stage is if he neuters every male within a hundred-mile radius,” he said, crossing his arms.

I shook my head at him. “I’m looking for Bex, she texted me and told me she needed to be picked up. Have you seen her?”

Lucky’s grin quickly disappeared. “No, she’s not here. When did she text you?” he asked, instantly alert.

That feeling of foreboding returned. “Just now,” I told him, looking down at my phone.

“I’m afraid Rebecca won’t be coming to the phone right now,” a voice declared from the shadows.

Lucky immediately stepped in front of me drawing his gun at the emerging figure. Carlos stepped into the light, not seeming to be bothered he was looking down the barrel of a gun. His fake tanned face looked overly smug in fact. He was limping, leaning heavily on a cane he hadn’t had the last time I saw him.

“What have you done with her, you piece of shit?” Lucky spat, his voice vibrating with fury.

Carlos smiled and straightened his suit jacket casually. “Oh, I’ve taken her to where she belongs. A place where a girl such as her can serve her intended purpose,” he replied breezily.

My heart sank, and I felt a vice tightening around my lungs.

No.

Not Bex.

Lucky’s form turned to granite in front of me.

“Get out of here right now, call Asher the moment you’re in your car,” he instructed me tightly, not moving his gun.

“I’m afraid the new Mrs. Breslin will have to stay with us,” Carlos exclaimed. “She’s needed as a part of a message I’ll be sending to your club,” he finished the same moment I felt cold steel at my temple.

Lucky whirled around and pointed his gun at the man who yanked me into his body.

“Let her go motherf*cker or I’ll spray your worthless brains all over this floor,” he clipped, voice shaking with fury.

The man behind me laughed. “Try it. Her head will be opened before you can even get your shot off,” he said, and I tasted bile.

Lucky glared as two more men appeared at either side of him. His jaw hardened.

I battled against the growing pressure on my chest, my breath coming in slow pants.

Lucky’s eyes softened as he focused on me. “Don’t worry, sugar, you’re gonna be fine,” he promised.

Carlos laughed lightly. “It’s not her you should be assuring of safety, you should be more worried about yourself,” he stated. He made a small nod of his head and a gunshot echoed inside the cavernous room.

I didn’t even realize I was screaming until the ringing in my ears stopped. My eyes widened in horror at Lucky’s still form on the floor. Blood started pooling underneath him and he didn’t move, didn’t portray any sign of life.

This can’t be happening.

“You bastard,” I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Carlos stepped over Lucky’s prone body to stand in front of me. He tilted his head and trailed his hand along my cheek. I flinched back from his vile touch. He grinned and sucked on the finger that had trailed through my tears.

“It’s a shame,” he mused. “That we can’t use you. You’d be much more valuable than your junkie friend. But, we need to send a message to your husband’s little club….” he paused. “We are not to be f*cked with. And they need to learn what happens when people try.” He nodded his head to the man holding me.

I struggled as he dragged me toward the stage. My efforts were laughable, my small body not even emitting enough strength to make a difference, regardless on the adrenaline pouring through my veins.

After he’d gotten me on stage, he pushed me roughly so my back met the cool steel of the pole. I stared down the barrel of a gun as he pointed it at my forehead.

“Move and die, your choice,” he uttered with a grin.

I stood silently, paralyzed with fear, unable to think of some clever way out of this. Unable to think of anything beyond the roaring in my ears, the heavy pressure on my chest. I felt like a frightened shaking rabbit in the headlights.