Beneath These Lies (Beneath, #5)(76)

“Bourbon,” he bit out.

“I’ll meet you at the Saint.”

For a moment, I thought he’d tell me to go f*ck myself, but he didn’t.

“I’ll be there.”





I FOLLOWED RIX’S INSTRUCTIONS, LOCKING the house and setting my alarm before settling down with a glass of wine and a book to wait for him. One glass turned into two, and then three.

It was all the book’s fault, I swear. Angsty love-triangle nonsense. She just needed to pick one, but I couldn’t stop reading. I laughed at myself. I was just as bad as this heroine, but at least I’d made my decision. I hoped my happily-ever-after was coming next.

Headlights cut across my front windows and into the house. I followed them as a vehicle pulled up to the gate at my drive. I waited, and then the lights flashed. Moving to another window, I squinted. The Cadillac emblem shone on the big silver grill.

A smile spread across my face. When the high beams flashed again, I hurried downstairs and slipped my feet into flip-flops before turning off the alarm and rushing outside. My front gate had been fixed, on Rix’s orders, so I unlocked it and pushed it open. I strolled toward the SUV, a huge smile on my face. The door pushed open partway and I slipped inside—and froze.

It wasn’t Rix.

It was a man I’d never seen before. And the barrel of his gun was pointed directly at me.





THE NIGHTMARE WAS SO VIVID—being tossed over a shoulder, the taste of blood filling my mouth, men barking orders and slamming doors. I jerked awake, thankful it was just a dream.

My head pounded against the cushion.

Why am I sleeping in a chair? How much wine did I drink?

I yawned, rubbing a hand against my aching temple. It came away wet and my brain snapped into gear. It wasn’t a dream.

The Escalade. The guy with the gun. Everything going black.

Fuck.

Rix is going to kill them.

And he wasn’t going to be very happy with me either. I’d gotten myself kidnapped.

Feelings of helplessness swirled inside, fighting to break free. Keep it together, Valentina. You are not a victim. You are not going to fall apart. You’re going to save yourself.

Rising to my feet on shaky legs, I studied the room I was in. It was dark, but the carpet was plush and a fresh, clean scent tinged the air. I walked to the window and tugged aside the curtain. In the darkness, I could see lights reflecting off the surface of water. A lake? Maybe Pontchartrain? I craned my head, trying to get a better look, but in the darkness any landmarks were impossible to make out.

I flipped the latch on the window. Could it be this easy? Just climb out the window and slip away into the night. I shoved at the sill, but it didn’t move.

So that’s a no for easy.

I ran my fingers along the frame. It wasn’t painted shut . . . and then the pads of my fingers touched the screws.

Seriously? Complete fire hazard! But could I break it?

Scanning my surroundings, I spotted a floor lamp near the chair I’d woken up in. Crossing the room, I bypassed the lamp for the door. Sheer curiosity had me trying the knob. Locked. Obviously. But I still had to try.

Rounding the chair, I pulled the plug free and hefted the lamp. It was solid and would work for my purpose. The window was about shoulder height, and I’d be able to haul myself up and over and be gone before they even knew I was missing. I hoped.

Using the lamp base like a battering ram, I slammed it into the window.

It bounced off.

Crap.

Readjusting my grip, I rammed it into the window again. Glass shattered and I spun, avoiding the flying shards.

Setting the lamp aside, I searched the room for something to clear the glass away so I could climb out without slicing myself to ribbons. The recliner I’d woken up in had two cloth covers over the arms. Those’ll work. Grabbing them both, I was almost to the window when the door burst open.

“Fucking bitch!”

The guy with the gun was back. And he looked even more pissed this time.

I reached for the window anyway.

Metallic pops sounded, and something hit the wall to my left.

Bullets.

Holy. Crap.

I dropped to the floor, hands over my head, not caring that glass sliced into me. If I caught a bullet, I might not live long enough to heal anyway.

The room quieted, but fear kept me curled up in a ball.

The man spoke, triumph in his voice. “They told me not to touch you. Told me I couldn’t f*ck you. But all bets are off when you start causing problems, you little bitch.”

His words echoed in my pounding head. Told me not to touch you. Told me I couldn’t f*ck you. But all bets are off . . .

No. No. No. Not again. I couldn’t go through that again. Never. Again. I would fight. As my hands squeezed into fists, I found a shard of glass clenched in one palm. I would kill before I’d let someone make me helpless again.

“Get the f*ck up.”

I forced myself to look up at him. The long barrel of the gun stared back at me. I shook, swallowing back bile rising in my throat.

He could kill me and no one would even hear it because even I’d seen enough movies to recognize a silencer. I shook and the glass sliced into my palm. The pain helped me hold on to the thin shred of my sanity.

“Get the f*ck up,” he ordered again.

I pushed up onto my knees, my eyes never leaving the gun. Rising slowly, I fought my trembling muscles to stand tall.