As I make my way back to her, I stop by my grandfather’s liquor cabinet and pull the sheet off. My lips curl. His whiskey bottles are still here.
“Take a few of these,” I tell her, handing her the aspirin bottle.
She squints her eyes to read the label. “These are nine years expired.”
“Take it with this, then.” I drop a whiskey bottle on the couch next to her and grab another one off the shelf.
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t argue. She twists the cap off the aspirin and throws two into her mouth along with a fast swig of whiskey. “Ugh…” Her face contorts in disgust.
“Atta girl.” I rip a sheet off the armchair across from her and plop down into it with my own bottle.
“What are we doing out here?” she asks.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“I have to go back home.”
I stare at her, drawing blanks. “Why?”
She looks down, almost ready to cry again, but she holds it together. “Because they killed my father.”
Payback. Of course. It’d be my first instinct, too.
“Don’t be stupid, Lucy,” I say. “You wouldn’t last a second and we both know it.”
Her lips tighten. “Then, what the hell are we doing out here?”
She looks at me with expectation. Like I’m a man with a plan. I wish I could tell her I had one, but I can’t see past the next few minutes right now.
“I’m going to go outside and see if I can get the generator started.” I push off the chair and walk toward the front door, grabbing the flashlight still hanging down from the key hooks. “Stay off the knee.”
She doesn’t say a word as I step outside onto the porch.
The air is clear and warm, far different than the thick air of Chicago. I’d almost forgotten how it felt out here. Fresh flowers growing everywhere. Small animals just wandering around. The constant sound of the lake lapping against the dock down the thick lawn. It all comes rushing back like a monstrous tidal wave.
I make my way around the house and follow the path of rocks toward the dock. The shed comes into view, nearly obscured by overgrown trees and thigh-high grass. I step inside and the stench of mold and rotting wood invades my nose.
The generator sits in the corner with a red gas can nestled beside it. I pick up the can and swish it around, happy to find that some gas still remains inside. I pour a healthy amount into the generator and yank at the string to bring it to life. It twitches, clicking loudly before settling back to silence. I pull it again. It revs a little but fails once more.
“Come on…” I hiss.
I ready my arm to pull again but pause as another distant revving sound hits my ears.
Fucking hell, Lucy.
I bolt out of the shed and race through the thicket toward the house. Headlights illuminate the dark driveway and I curse to myself for leaving the damn keys in the ignition.
Suddenly, her spunky determination is a real fucking turn-off.
“Lucy!”
I charge down the driveway, chasing the taillights as fast as I can go. She speeds up and the car sways left and right to try and keep me from passing.
I slap the trunk. “Stop the car, Lucy!”
She slams on the brakes and I bash into the rear bumper before I can process the change in speed. I fall back and gravel kicks up at me as she tries to speed off again.
“Goddammit.”
I race off-road into the woods, picking up my pace to cut her off when she reaches the end of the drive. As she slows down to make the turn, I fling myself in front of the car and she stops to avoid crashing into me.
“Get out!”
I quickly rush to the door and throw it open before she can react. I blink at her position, noticing that her right leg is stretched out across the passenger’s seat while she operates both pedals with her left foot only.
“I’m going back!” she shouts.
“No, you’re not!”
“You can’t keep me here!”
“Yes, I can.” I reach over her lap to shift the car into park before wrapping my arms around her to pull her out.
“This is kidnapping!”
“Technically, I guess.”
I slide the lever to pop the trunk open and throw her over my shoulder as I stand up. She wiggles in my grasp, nearly slipping off my back, so I tap her knee and she shrieks with pain.
“Sit still.”
I throw open the trunk and grab a gray canvas bag from inside before closing it again.
“Help!” she screams. “Somebody help me!”
“Bellow all you want, Lucy,” I say, smacking her ass. “The nearest neighbor is five miles away.”
“Help—” I whack her again. “Stop that!”
“Stop screaming and I’ll consider it.”
She punches my ribs and I spank her again, this time digging into her cheek with a hard squeeze.
“Ouch!”
“What’d I say?”
“You said to stop screaming.”
I sigh and strengthen my grip on her as we near the house. “Just stop everything, okay?”
“Asshole.”
I carry her up the stairs, this time not bothering to watch whether she strikes the wall. She hisses and growls at me and my lips curl as I take her down the hall to the master bedroom and toss her down onto the old bed. The iron frame squeaks as she bounces into place.
“Ow!” She glares at me. “Be gentle!”
“Oh, we’re way past gentle, Ms. Vaughn...”
I unzip the gray bag and feel inside for the hard, metal rings.
She spots the handcuffs and her jaw drops. “No! Don’t you dare!”
I grab her left arm as she tries to roll away and slap one cuff onto her wrist, quickly clicking it as tight as it’ll go.
“Can’t say you didn’t ask for this…” I say, locking the other cuff around the ancient iron bars of the headboard.
She tugs against her restraint and tries to slip the cuff off her small wrist but it’s far too tight. “You can’t keep me locked up like this!”
“No?”
“No!”
“Says who?”
Lucy pulls at the cuff again, growling through her teeth. “I have rights.”
“Not out here you don’t.”
“You’re really going to leave me here like this?”
I grin. “You’re actually pretty cute when you’re pissed off.”
Rage washes over her eyes and she tugs at her wrist again, getting absolutely nowhere.
“Now, stay put like I told you,” I say as I leave her.
“Fuck you.”
I head back outside and walk down the driveway to retrieve the car. This time, I take the keys with me and lock the damn doors after I park beside the house.
I knew she was hell-bent on revenge, but I didn’t think she’d be so stupid about it. If Snake Eyes taught me anything, it’s that you never make a decision based on emotion. You wait. You plan. You choose the correct strategy before ever taking the first step. Going after the Zappia family isn’t the kind of thing you just jump into without careful thought and planning first.
It’s probably best avoided altogether but that’s never stopped me before.
It won’t stop her either.
Chapter 19
Lucy
The lights flicker on overhead. I guess that jackass got the generator running.
I try to think of every action movie I’ve ever seen. There’s always that one scene where someone dislocates their thumb to get out of handcuffs. I usually turn away at that point because even that small popping sound effect is enough to make me cringe. I’m kind of pissed I didn’t pay more attention before. That information would have come in handy right about now.
There’s no way I’m slipping out of this cuff. It’s too tight and I’m too squeamish to hurt myself. This old bed is solid. These iron bars aren’t bending. The entire frame was welded together so it’s not breaking for me anytime soon.
/> The front door opens and closes downstairs. His boots tap loudly along the old floorboards.
Dante Hart.
Fucking psychopath.
First, he kicks me out of his bed with zero explanation. Then, he strangles a man right in front of me. Then, he comes back, pulls me out of a burning building, and brings me out to the middle of fucking nowhere to a house he supposedly used to live in.
All because he needs me?
What the fuck am I even supposed to say to that?
He climbs the stairs. I see him reach the top down the hall and I pause as he drifts closer to the doorway. His eyes shift in his head, wandering around in search for something.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Dante moves toward the dresser in the corner. “I’m looking for some clothes,” he says, pulling the top drawer open.
I push against the mattress to try and get a better look inside, but he slides it closed to move on to the next one down. “For who?”
“For you.”
He grabs something black and holds it up. A skirt. Long and wrinkled. I cringe as he tosses it over his shoulder to keep it.
“Unless you want to sit around in that leotard forever,” he adds.
“Is that how long you intend to keep me here?”
“It’s just an expression, Lucy.” He throws open the closet door. “You can leave once it’s safe for you to do so.”
“I’m not in any danger.”
“Yes, you are.”
“From who?”
“From you.”
I roll my eyes and look over his shoulder as he sifts through the various shirts hanging in the closet. “Whose clothes are these?” He pulls a hanger out, along with a horrendous white and gray striped blouse. “Ew. No…” I point around him. “The red one.”
He throws the blouse back in and slides the red one off the hanger. “They’re my grandmother’s,” he answers, walking toward the bed.
“Where is she?”
“Not here anymore.”
He tosses them down next to my feet, his face as blank as a canvas.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
His shoulders bounce and he wanders to the vanity in the corner. He sifts through the drawers until he finds a large pair of scissors inside.
“What are those for?” I ask.
Dante’s lips curl and he snaps the blades twice. “Well, I can’t exactly un-cuff you to get that leotard off, now can I?”
Anger returns to my cheeks. “I can dress myself, thank you.”
“It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before, Luce.” He steps forward and reaches for my left foot, drawing it closer to the edge of the bed. “Don’t move. You wouldn’t want to make me accidentally cut you.”
I sit still as he slips a finger along my left ankle, gently pulling at my tights to slide the scissors in. They tear apart easily as he moves the sharp blades upward. His fingers trail up my leg and I do my best not to twitch at his warm, gentle touch. The scissors reach the top and he pauses before shifting around to my right ankle.
“This will hurt a little,” he warns, glancing at my knee.
I inhale a sharp breath as he lays a hand on my foot and pushes the scissors beneath my tights. He moves slowly, twice as slow as he did on the other side, but my leg still jolts as the fabric peels away from my bloody skin. I wince as the blades reach the knee. Dante pauses to look at me, waiting for approval to go on.
“Go ahead,” I say, gripping the bedspread with my free hand.
He lifts my tights. Red bleeds into my vision and I clench. His hands move quickly, peeling the fabric while slicing across until it’s all cleared away.
“Fuck…” I bite my lip.
“It’s done,” he says, pulling the ruined tights out from under my knee. “Lie back.”
I slide down, letting my left leg control me as I settle against the old pillows.
Dante takes the scissors again and snaps away at the tight elastic around my waist, freeing it completely before tossing it to the floor. He lays his hand on my abdomen, sliding his hand down to my groin to fish his fingers beneath the crotch of my leotard.
I press my lips together to keep from sighing as my body recalls his sensual touch on my skin. My heart leaps and my body begs for him to touch me like he did last night.
I push the thoughts away as I feel the slow snip of his scissors carving away at it. His fingertips leave a trail up my skin as he goes, sending shocks of pleasure throughout my core.
“Lucy.”
“What?”
“Relax.”
I blink. “I’m fine.”
“Then, breathe.”
My body jolts and I force in a breath.
Dante smiles as he cuts the fabric between my breasts and slides the scissors up the rest of the way. He moves to my arms next and destroys them along the seams before throwing the shredded leotard to the floor next to my tights.
Cold air strikes my naked skin and he reaches for the skirt at my feet. “No pants?” I ask.
“Not unless you want them constantly grazing your knee,” he points out, moving down to slide the loose skirt up my legs. “Skirt is easier.”
I pause, realizing how right he is. It hadn’t even occurred to me before he said it. I push off the bed as he fits the skirt over my thighs.
Dante grabs the blouse and pauses with his eyes on my cuffs.
I lean forward. “Didn’t think this part through, did you?”
He glares at me, his brain working to come up with a way of dressing me without un-cuffing me.
“Look, I promise I won’t run off again,” I say, meaning it. I jingle the cuff against the iron bar. “This is really unnecessary.”
He eyes me for a moment more before sliding a hand into his jeans pocket and pulling out a small, silver key.
“Thank you,” I say, twisting my wrist to angle the lock toward him with a smile. My hand falls free and I slide the blouse onto my arms. “Thank you, thank you—”
Dante snatches my wrist and locks me into the cuff again, tightening it down until the clicking stops.
I drop my smile. “Dick.”
He flashes a wink.
Lights shine in through the windows, along with the growing roar of motorcycles racing up the driveway.
“Who is that?” I ask.
“Stay here,” he merely says.
“Oh, ha ha.”
I fasten the buttons of the old blouse with my free hand as he charges down the hall toward the stairwell.
Chapter 20
Dante
I go outside as the two motorcycles park next to my car. My little brother and sister pull their helmets off, almost completely in sync with each other — as they have been since the day they were born.
I look at Elijah’s head and cringe. “What the hell is that?” I ask.
He stares back at me through long, ash brown bangs. “What the hell is what?”
“It’s called a haircut, man.”
“What?” He flips his head, striking a quick pose on his bike while his hair shifts along his eyes. “You no like?”
“Luckily, I know exactly where Gram kept the scissors.”
“Piss off. I look good.” He gestures to Lilah. “Right?”
Lilah winces through her own blood-red bangs. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to mention…”
“Oh, piss on you both.” He laughs.
Lilah jumps off her bike and rushes at me with open arms. “Hey, big brother,” she says, squeezing my torso so hard my ribs give.
“Shit—” I force in a painful breath. “You really need to stop working out.”
“Not until I’m stronger than you.”
“Getting pretty close.”
She pulls away as Elijah walks over with his own arms wide open. “It’s been almost a year,” he points out. “Come here. We can resume the shit-talk post-hug.”
I chuckle and give him a hug, patting his back while my eyes linger over his thick shoulder at Li
lah’s smile. It feels much longer than a year since I’ve seen my siblings. The last I saw Lilah, her hair was its natural shade of brown, just like ours. Now, she’s dyed it a radiant red — a look that definitely suits her personality in more ways than one. Elijah looks the same as always, just a mini version of myself with soft features stolen off his twin’s face. The protector in me always checks their faces for new bruises and scars. Thankfully, neither of them has any.
“You been keeping him out of trouble?” I ask Lilah.
“For the most part,” she mutters, pointing a sideways glance at him.
I pull back to look at him. “What’d you do this time?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Elijah says, firing a quick glance at his twin to shut her up.
I stare him down. “Eli…”
Lilah leans in. “It’s taken care of, Dante.”
“Fine…” I give up. “Did you bring your medkit?”
Elijah looks me up and down. “Yeah, it’s on the bike.”
“Bring it in.”
“You hurt?”
“Not me, no.”
Elijah and Lilah exchange glances before they each look over my shoulders into the house.
I head back inside with Lilah while he jogs back to his bike for the kit.
Metal cuffs clang loudly against the iron bars upstairs. Lucy must still be really pissed off up there. Can’t say I blame her.
Lilah pauses, her little gray eyes turning upward until falling back on me with accusation.
I sigh. “That’s…”
She flashes a sinful smile. “Oh, I know what that sound is.”
I glower. My baby sister has dozens of confirmed kills but that doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the thought of her having sex.
Elijah steps inside with his medkit hanging off his shoulder. “So, what’s—” He stops as his ears train on the same sound.
“Come on,” I say, gesturing them to follow me up.
We head upstairs and the clanging stops as we reach the landing. Lucy stares down the hallway at us, her eyes squinting to make out the unfamiliar faces. We stop in the doorway and Elijah raises an inquisitive brow.
“Hi,” he greets her.
“Hi,” Lucy replies through her teeth.
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