Fearless (Broken Love, #5)(58)

He had a gun?

I tried to get a look at him, but Dash was too tall. I’d need to stick my head out, and I had a feeling it was exactly what Dash didn’t want me to do. At least Greg couldn’t see me…

I could maybe call for help.

My phone was already in my hand, so I quickly pulled up the group message, sent a text, and prayed. Faintly, I heard Dash’s own phone vibrate in his pocket. It was my single beacon of hope. I took one more action for insurance and then hid my phone.

“Now that the pleasantries have been exchanged let’s get down to business. Move.”

The determination in his voice made my own blood run cold.

“We’re not going anywhere with you.”

His chuckle echoed around the nearly empty level. “I don’t want you. I want the girl, and I was only going to ask once.” I recognized the sound of the hammer being pulled back.

Dash…

I tried to push him out of the way and give myself up, but he was too heavy, and it was much too late. The sound of the gunshot rang out. Dash crumbled to the ground and I screamed.

I screamed, and I screamed, and I screamed, but none of it did any good so I fell to my knees to try to help him. I moved to turn him over—he was so still—but a painful tug of my hair kept me from reaching him.

“You little cunt,” he breathed. “Looks like you got your little friend killed poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“What do you want?”

“I know you mean something to someone I want dead, and I think you know exactly who he is.”

“No,” I cried. He yanked me further and further away from Dash. I just needed to get to him.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. I won’t touch him. I’ll let prison kill him. I bet he’ll make someone a nice piece of ass in the meantime.”

I decided to ignore that. Keiran was no one’s bitch. “What do you want?”

“I want him to confess to the murder of his father.”

“But he didn’t do it!”

“I know he didn’t. I did.”

“What?” I stopped, but he only dragged me harder. His fingers dug into my skin causing me to hiss and glare at him.

“The bastard promised me money for killing his brother and didn’t deliver so I killed him for his debt.”



*



For John.

That’s what the message on the wall meant.

It all clicked into place. Q had lied to protect me, which meant Greg must have followed us that day. I don’t believe it was a mere coincidence. All I had to do was confirm it.

Wherever Greg took me, it wasn’t far. When he forced me into his car, he had run his hands down my body—looking for my phone is what he said. My skin still crawled from his touch. A bag, shielding my eyes had come next, and then he tied my hands.

“We’re here,” he singsonged.

“I’m being kidnapped,” I reminded dryly. “I don’t need a running commentary.” My head kept replaying the sight of Dash lying there so still. The agony of not knowing had consumed me since I was forced to leave him.

“You have a lot of mouth. I wonder how your little boyfriend shuts you up. I bet he sticks his cock in that pretty little mouth of yours. Keep it up, little girl, and I’ll do the same.”

The last thing I wanted was for him to touch me again. Unfortunately, he had to in order to get me from the car. He walked me up short steps, and then I heard a door open followed by another. I guessed he took me to a house and I prayed it wasn’t his. If I got out of this alive, I’d be scrubbing my skin nonstop for at least a week.

The bag was suddenly snatched from my head, and I immediately looked around for an exit. He had me in a room that was surprisingly clean. “Sit,” he ordered and remembering his threat, I didn’t hesitate. “She obeys. He’s trained you well.”

Trained me? Am I a dog?

I decided to keep the retort to myself and held still as he removed the zip tie. I was surprised he was taking chances. Maybe he wasn’t used to kidnapping. Either way, I intended to use my freedom of movement to get away first chance I got. With as much subtlety as I could muster, I looked around for anything that could be used as a weapon.

“Don’t think about it, or I’ll kill you as soon as I have what I want from your boyfriend.”

“Aren’t you anyway?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’d hate to see a pretty thing like you go to waste. I always thought you were sexy. I wanted you in the worst way.”

“We’ve only met once.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend knew,” he said, ignoring my response. “I’m sure it’s the real reason he tried to bash my head in with a chair. He probably couldn’t care less about his precious niece.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. He wouldn’t kill you because I wouldn’t want him to, but he’d chop your heart into little pieces for her.”

“That’s touching but enough stalling. We have a job to do.”

“He’s not going to confess to a murder he didn’t do. You won’t intimidate him.”

“But I can persuade him.”

“How could you possibly persuade him to—Oh…”