Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(26)

Slowly, I tried to extricate myself from Alex, who lay across my chest, but she stirred and woke up. A sleepy little smile touched her lips as she sat up, and goddamn, my heart soared at the sight.

“Morning,” she whispered.

“Morning,” I replied and before I knew what was happening, the small space between us vanished and my lips were on hers. She didn’t move or shy away, but I heard a breathy little gasp as my lips brushed hers, so softly…

…and then the sound of a door slamming open came from down the hall. Adrenaline surged through my bones, making me jump.

There was a commotion outside, like a storm rolling our way. My heart leapt to my throat and I disentangled myself from Alex’s clutching hands as she tried to stop me from getting up. I crept to the window and peeked out and to the left. Dracula, Frankie, and Wolfman were outside the door to the office beside ours. They barged inside but right before they did, I caught sight of a cell phone in Drac’s hands.

I heard screams, cries, muffled cursing, and then I knew. My heart dropped from my throat to somewhere near my groin and I hurried to where Amita lay curled in a ball, still asleep.

“Amita!” I hissed. “Wake up!”

“What…?”

“Your Bluetooth. Give it to me.” I glanced over my shoulder. Any second now… She tore the dead earpiece off and handed it to me.

“Don’t say a word,” I told her.

“I don’t—”

“None of you,” I hissed at the group. “Not one word!” I shoved the earpiece into my back pocket and sat down. Hard. I felt it break—and bruise my ass in the process—just as the door slammed open.

Frankie, Wolfman, and Dracula himself stormed in. All wore their masks pushed up on their heads. Remaining anonymous was clearly no longer a priority. The other hostages woke, some stifling cries or gasps.

Dracula scanned the room with his empty eyes. “Lost and found calling,” he said in his dead voice. He flipped the cell phone in his hand over and over like a deck of cards. “Anyone lose a phone?”

I eased a breath. Either Drac was f*cking with us, or he really didn’t know who owned that cell phone. Thankfully, my group kept their mouths shut. Especially Amita. I didn’t dare look at her but I mentally willed her not to say a word. No matter what.

Drac crouched down on his heels in the middle of the small office, eyeing each one of us in turn, while Frankie hopped excitedly from one foot to the next. Obviously, he’d had another fix of whatever he was hooked on. Wolfman stood sentry in the doorway. His mask was off too and he watched the scene with a tight expression on his face. His dark eyes glinted nervously.

Dracula held up the iPhone between two fingers. It was slim and new—the latest model, with a plain, glossy black cover. “You’re my last room. And I have to tell you, my patience has just about run the f*ck out.”

Frankie snickered behind him, his pocked face stupid with glee, his tongue lolling like a dumb dog.

“The other night,” Drac said, “my monsters were digging through our treasure and noticed something peculiar about this phone. It seemed a ghost was talking on it. Imagine that?”

To my far left, Sylvie moaned. I didn’t blame her. Drac’s casual, conversational words combined with his toneless voice were absolutely chilling. To my immediate left, Alex found my hand and squeezed.

“Curious, my guy picked it up and listened, and lo and behold, turns out the ghost was speaking to the LAPD. Like the dumb, witless f*ck he is, my guy didn’t keep his mouth shut but alerted the authorities to his presence. They tried to engage with him, but he had the brains enough to at least hang up. He brought it to me but—keep in mind he’s a dumbf*ck—a little bit too late. The cock-sucking battery died. Ain’t that a steaming pile?

“So here’s my dilemma, kiddies,” Drac mused, his jaw twitching with sudden rage.

I watched his dead eyes become flatter, more empty. Here was the shark whose eyes were rolling back in his head ahead of the kill.

“I need to know who’s been spilling their guts to the cops AND I NEED TO KNOW RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!”

Drac was facing Tanya when he shot forward, his bellowed words still ringing in our ears, and snaked his arm around her in a headlock with the same uncanny speed as his sudden outburst. Tanya let out a choked cry and then made no sound at all as Drac’s forearm tightened under her chin. Her face turned red, her mouth worked soundlessly, and she clawed helplessly at his iron grip.

Frankie danced behind. “Yeah! Yeah! Do it, bro! Kill the bitch!”

“I just might, Frankie,” Drac said, his voice returning to its flat-dead tone. He glanced at each of us and laid his free hand on Tanya’s cheek. “One little twist…”

In the movies, the action hero always leaps forward boldly, his voice deep and strong, as he tells the villain—against whom he is completely out-numbered and out-gunned—to unhand the girl.

I was no action hero.

My hands trembled and I was about ready to piss myself. I wasn’t ready to die but I couldn’t live with myself if my cowardice got someone else killed either.

“It’s mine,” I said, my voice neither bold nor strong. Alex’s fingernails were digging the back of my hand now. I knew she was trying to shut me up, but the pain actually helped focus me. “It’s mine,” I said again, stronger this time. “I was on the phone to the cops.”