Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(82)

The last man who was in your predicament is still there. What’s left of him, anyway. Some dead animals too.

Oh my god, oh my god, no, no, oh my god, what was I lying near and that smell, oh my god.

What was that on my leg? Was something crawling on me?

My stomach heaved and more tears burned in my eyes as I fought with my body, knowing that if I threw up, I’d end up lying in it, along with whatever else, whomever else I was lying in.

“Why are you doing this?” I rasped, my mouth dry, my tongue grating painfully against the roof of my mouth.

“Nothin’ personal against you, boo, you seem like a nice little girl. Real pretty too. But it’s your daddy I’m wantin’.”

“He’ll give you whatever you want,” I choked out. “He has money, he’ll—”

“I don’t want his money, baby, I want him. Almost three years ago, your daddy killed my big brother. It’s time he paid up.”

“Are you going to kill me?” I whispered, already knowing the answer.

“Like I said, honey, it’s nothin’ personal.”

It was nothing personal? Was she for real? She’d knocked me out and kidnapped me all so she could get to my father, to kill him. Whether she planned on killing me in front of him or after she’d killed him, I didn’t know. Either way, it was personal. It was very f*cking personal.

And if my father failed at whatever his plan was, because by now I knew he would have one, I was going to die. This was it; I was only going to get twenty-one years.

And all I could think about was out of my twenty-one years of life, I’d only gotten to spend a week of it with Ripper. Secret moments here and there, scattered throughout our summer together, and one single, solitary week.

How was this fair?

He’d just come back to me.

Everything had been falling into place.

And now, I was going to lose everything.

The first sign that something was very wrong was my heart rate. I was already terrified, my pulse racing, but something more was happening. I was suddenly burning up, sweating and shivering, my already aching head began to pound, harder and harder. It felt as if I could feel my heart beating in every limb, beating faster and faster.

I started spinning, the darkness of the room, the inability to see worsening the churning nausea. I needed to turn my body, needed to move, needed something, needed to do something, anything, this couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t end like this, not before I really had a chance to live.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. My chest was caving in, my ribs cracking and my heart pounding, exploding, and I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating, gasping for air, choking on the rising bile in my throat.

Desperate, I tried to move, pulling painfully on my wrists and ankles, the binds chafing, burning through my skin, and still it only worsened, the need to get away, to get away, to get away, the need to live…

I had to live.

I had to see him.

I had to tell him I loved him.

I had to live.

? ? ?

Ripper pulled up to the same grouping of condominiums at the edge of town where he’d last met with Mama Vi. Killing his engine, he toed the kickstand down and looked around. The run-down stretch of building was dark, the lawn still overgrown; nothing had changed since the last time he’d been here. And he saw no sign of Mama Vi or Danny.

Now what?

This was where the bitch had told Deuce to meet her. So where the f*ck was she? Their plan wasn’t going to work if she’d lied about her location; if it had been her plan from the get-go to f*ck with Deuce, take Danny, kill her off-site and then dump her body.

Holy f*ck him, he was going to throw up.

That crazy bitch had his girl. That crazy, f*cked-in-the-head, sick bitch had his Danny.

And all he could think about was Frankie, what Frankie had done to him, and what Mama Vi was capable of, might be, probably was, doing to…Danny.

Keep your shit together.

Keep your f*cking shit together.

With a shaking hand, he pulled his phone out of his cut and texted Deuce.

Got nothing. Going inside. Wait for my signal.

He put his phone away and got up off his bike.

He was halfway down the walkway when the front door of the first condo swung open and Mama Vi stepped outside and smiled at him. All red lips and white teeth. He wanted to vomit.

“Drop the toys.”

Glaring at her, he pulled both his nines from his leathers, his blade from his boot, and tossed them off to the side.

“White boy, you take me for a damn fool? I said drop your toys. Phone too.”

Fuck.

“Got nothin’ left,” he said, after tossing his phone aside.

“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, obviously not believing him. “Wasn’t expectin’ you, scarface.”

“Yeah,” he growled. “But me is who you’re gettin’.”

“Ain’t no good, honey. You’re just another piece of meat I’m gonna be slicin’ up to get to that prez of yours.”

“Where’s Danny?” he demanded.

She shrugged. “Around. Where’s Deuce?”

He gritted his teeth. Where was Deuce? Hopefully, he was ten seconds away from ripping this bitch’s heart out through her *. But in all probability he was still halfway down the road waiting for the text message Ripper couldn’t send him.