Raging Heart On (Lucas Brothers #2)(92)

He leans down, his mouth against my ear and his voice a deep rumble and eerily calm. “Don’t make me knock you out. I will. Now, keep that pretty mouth of yours shut and stand against the wall. Don’t scream, don’t move. Our lives depend on you doing exactly, what I say.”

I swallow nervously, tears stinging my eyes. I nod once. He removes his hand from my mouth, taking his arms away and then pushes me roughly against the wall. He leaves me alone and bends down to rummage around the guard. I look around and carefully take two steps away. If I can just make it to the door we came through and back to the safety on the other side…

His voice stops me. I turn at the sound, and he’s pointing a gun at me. The mixture of the chains on his hand, the slick black gleam of the gun and the bright orange prison jumpsuit terrifies the hell out of me. I stand still—not because he told me to, but because I am literally petrified, frozen in my fear. He motions me, using the gun as a pointer.

“Search his pockets and belt. Find the key to my chains,” his gruff voice commands. I look at him like he’s crazy.

“He’s dead!” I tell him the obvious.

“Exactly, I’m sure he won’t give a damn if you dig around, hunting for a key. I would do it myself, but since you can’t seem to follow orders, you get the pleasure.”

“I can’t touch him! He’s dead!” I exclaim again.

“You can either do it or join him. It’s up to you.”

My face goes white. I know, because I feel the cold, clammy sweat break out over my body.

“Listen, Mr. Kincaid, I’m sure…”

“Lady, you need to stop your damn chatter and find the key or else he’ll be stinking as well as dead. I don’t know if you’ve had the pleasure of smelling a rotting corpse, but trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to do that.”

I want to say no again, but I’m pretty sure he’s not kidding about me joining the guard. So I bend down and start trying to find a key ring.

“Why the hell didn’t I quit? I swear, if I make it out of this alive, I’m going to make it my personal mission to have every fairy tale ever written removed from libraries for misleading kids. Next, I’m going to march into the office and tell my boss to go f*ck himself! Then, I’m going to tell his wife what a freaking, bitter-ass pill she is and how they can take this thankless job and stuff it up their asses. I don’t care if I do smell like piss and have to hug up to the likes of Winfred at night. I am done. D-O-N-E.” I’m mumbling under my breath without even realizing I’m doing it.

I gasp when Max starts laughing because honestly there is nothing remotely funny about any of this.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Do you always talk this much?”

I look at him confused, having no idea what on earth he is talking about. I decide to ignore him as my hand finds a key ring hanging from the guard’s belt. I try to pull it off, but it just extends and then pulls back. With a heavy sigh, I go to undo the man’s belt. “I’m sorry about this; you gave your life today and…”

“You do realize he can’t hear a damn thing you’re saying?”

I have to push and prod the body to get the belt off. “I’m not stupid; I talk when I’m nervous. You could help you know!” I huff. I figure I’m going too far. He’ll probably kill me at any minute. I know it’s an issue, but I do talk when I’m nervous. I can’t control it. One of my foster mothers used to say I had verbal diarrhea. She was a bitch.

“Just hurry.”

Just hurry. I mimic him in my mind; though I’d really like to do it out loud. Once I manage to get the belt free, I stand. I stumble once because my legs feel like jelly. My hand is shaking when I reach for the lock. I tilt my head forward and to the right to dodge the gun. I can almost feel the cold metal.

“Don’t you dare shoot me,” I grumble, continuing to go through the twenty plus keys on the chain.

“You’re awfully bossy for a hostage,” his dark voice rumbles. “And who is Winfred?”

I freeze—yet again. I think about explaining, but I ignore him instead. Finally, I find the right key and the metal lock opens. The shackles slowly fall to the ground. I jump at their heavy clang. Before I can run, he grabs me by the elbow and starts pulling me toward the chaos.

“You know you might come off hot and sexy on paper, but in person you are the Devil.”

He grunts and continues to pull me along. I want to argue, but I know it’s useless.

“Remember what I told you. Keep your head down and only speak when I give you permission.”

I bite my lip to keep from begging him to let me go and let him pull me along. At least he’s partially blocking my body. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and a stray bullet will take him out. A girl can hope, and I ignore the twinge of guilt I feel. I can’t still be infatuated with Max after this, surely. That would truly mean I’m insane.

After I sneak a look around the first area we enter, I change my mind. All around me are guards, dead, unconscious, or bleeding and tied up. Prisoners surround them, with guns pointed and ready. It’s like a scene from a Bruce Willis movie. I may never watch another one of those again.

“Who do we have here, Gringo?” A heavily laced Spanish accent asks, and I suddenly remember, very vividly, that I was told not to look up. I have no problem with that. In fact, I think I’d love to bury my head in the sand at the moment.