The Marriage Debt (De Vos Mafia #2)(52)

One of them just asked another if I look familiar … if I look like a De Vos or Baas.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is not looking good.

“Ja, nu dat je het zegt,” another one says.

Now that you say it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I have people waiting for me, and I need to go. Now,” I say with my head held high, but my voice is quaky as hell.

When the matted-hair guy grabs my arm, I stomp on his foot. “Don’t touch me.”

The mean face turns to rage. “You hurt me,” he growls. “You think that’s okay?”

I jerk the door, but it won’t budge. Right then, the smelly dude wraps his arms around my waist and drags me back to where the others are sitting.

I scream, but he covers my mouth with his filthy hands. “Don’t fucking scream. It’s not necessary. We only wanna share.”

“Yeah … share … that sounds nice,” one of them says.

Oh, fuck no.

These dudes are completely out of their minds on these drugs.

“Get off me!” I yell, fighting him every step of the way. “I didn’t ask for this!”

“Yeah, well you busted in on us. It’s only fair of you to come join us now,” one of them says.

Another one gets up. “But I don’t think I just want her to have a taste of the goods …” The viciousness in his voice makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

This is not good. Not fucking good.

“Yeah, c’mere girl. We can have fun, and you can run off in those expensive shoes back to where you came from after we’re done,” another one says.

“No, let me out of here!” I say as one of them pulls me onto his lap.

“What’s that around your neck? A collar?”

I squeal when the guy wraps an arm around my waist, and tears stain my eyes.

“Relax, girl. It won’t hurt if you stop struggling.”

I fight him off, but it’s no use. It’s five against one, and I’m no match, despite the fact that they’re all drugged out of their minds.

Suddenly, the door slams open. A raised boot is all I see as a light shines inside. I block my eyes to keep it from blinding me. But a word still manages to squeak its way out of my throat. “Help.”

Something black and metallic is raised in the light.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Five shots.

One long squeal emanates from my throat as I duck for cover onto the floor, and blood splatters all around me.

It all happens so fast that it barely registers with me until the gunshots have stopped, and all that’s left are the lifeless bodies of the five men who tried to grope me. And me, on the floor in front of them, covered in blood.

I wish it was the first time I’ve seen blood, but it’s not, and the sight doesn’t make me fearful.

It’s what I’ve grown used to in this mafia world.

Men taking what they want, regardless of who gets hurt.

And if you get in their way … you die.



Years ago



* * *



Gunshots ricochet against the walls of our home. My father is out there. I can hear his voice as he yells orders at the men who work for us.

Men I’m supposed to trust with my life as I sit here in the closet with my mother and my sister, waiting for this fight to blow over.

Waiting for my father to win.

There is nothing but bloodshed out there.

Nothing but dead bodies and men who want to steal us to settle a debt.

My father can handle them, right?

This isn’t the first time they’ve come for us. He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.

But my mother’s strong grip on my shoulder tells me enough. Even she is scared.

“Vera! Stay put!” my father yells, the sound of his voice making us all jolt up.

He’s still alive.

But his voice cracks as though he’s in pain.

Shit. I have to help him.

Without thinking, I push past my mother and throw open the closet door. “Jill, no!” my mother’s shrill voice begs, but I still run for the door.

When I open it, there’s a man’s back right in front of me.

He’s looking right at me over his shoulder.

It’s not my father, and the vicious smile on his face makes all the blood drain from my face.

I shriek as he spins around to grasp me.

BANG!

I close my eyes.

Blood sprays on my face.

FLOP!

It’s the sound of a body dropping to the floor.

I’m too scared to open my eyes.

“Jill.” My father’s voice forces me to look.

The man lies facedown on the floor in our hallway, our home.

And my father’s gun smokes from the trail left behind of this murder.

“Get back inside, and don’t come out until I say so,” my father barks at me, and he grabs the handle and shuts the door.

Now I understand what he meant when he said it was important that we moved away to another country.

He wants to keep us safe.

But I know it’s not the men out there who are a danger to our lives.

It’s this mobster family.

Nowhere is safe.