Page 78 of Worth the Risk

“Not at all, but you’ll have to watch the floor. Lisa still hasn’t shown, and Marcy took a potty break.” She frowned because she’d been gone for a lot more than a jiff.

“They won’t die if they have to wait five extra minutes for their drinks,” Hannah assured her. “But they’ll give me flack if they don’t get their twist of lime or orange wedge, believe me.”

“Okay. I’ll try to be quick, and I’ll see if I can hurry Marcy along. What do you need?”

“Lemons and limes.” Hannah tapped her lips with her finger trying to remember. “Olives,” she finally exclaimed, “and a jar of those tiny onions.”

“Onions?” Bella asked with a grimace.

“Yeah. Some people like them in their martinis, including Master Dan.”

“Ew! So, he does have a flaw,” she stated wryly, but her hand flew to her mouth. Others might find that critical rather than joking, and it could get back to him.

But Hanna giggled, and Bella was glad to see her little slip had eased some of her anxiety.

“I’ll only be a minute,” she assured her then headed toward the service hall.

The hall was dim, which was the norm, but the stockroom was dark when she opened the door, which wasn’t. The sense of icy unease returned, and she retreated but not fast enough. A hand came out of the dark, hard fingers encircled her wrist in an iron grip, and she was yanked inside.

She would have screamed if not for the forearm tight against her throat. It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the cold metal pressed to her temple.

“Hey, cuz. Long time no see,” a familiar voice hissed in her ear. “Cooperate, or we’ll make sure you regret it.”

“And if I don’t, what then, Rudolpho?” she choked out. “The bullets you’ve been shooting at me for over a year aren’t exactly an invitation to tea.”

Someone snickered. “She’s got you there, Rudy.”

“Shut up, Ernie,” her captor snapped.

No one dared called Rudolpho by the hated nickname, except his younger brother; they were afraid to. Ernesto was pretty scary himself. Although not the sharpest tool in the shed, the jagged scar on his left cheek told the tale of his life of violence. The two brothers were always bickering, and they often exchanged punches. If she could exploit their rivalry and distract them, she might have a chance to escape.

The door shut behind them, and the lights came on. She blinked a few times until her eyes adjusted. Then she gasped, seeing Marcy tied up with duct tape over her mouth. She slumped on the floor, her head lolling to the side, blood trickling down her forehead beneath her bangs. She didn’t make a sound, but her chest moved. Bella’s assessment: unconscious but still breathing, but for how long?

She averted her gaze, sick with guilt. If not for her presence, this never would have happened.

Rudolpho’s hand twisted in her hair, forcing her to look at the incapacitated Marcy. “Do as you’re told or Red gets it. You don’t want her blood on your hands, do you, Izzy?”

As much as Rudy and Ernie despised their shortened names, she had hoped she’d heard the last of hers. But, as with everything in her messed-up life, she had no such luck.

“I’ll do what you want,” she said, resigned to cooperating, at least until she found a way out of this that didn’t put someone else in harm’s way.

“I thought that’s what you’d say,” he grunted, sounding amused. “We’re heading out back where you’re going to get in our Escalade for a nice little drive.”

She’d heard that before, and not just in movies. The euphemism meant at the end of thenice little drive, she would be dead.

As he yanked her toward the door, a menacing voice cut through the silence. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Bella shut her eyes as the deafening sound of gunshots exploded in the room.

“Dan!” she screamed, at the same time praying silently.Please don’t let him be dead.

The forearm at her throat eased and fell away. Without its restraining presence, Bella stumbled forward and tripped. When she looked down, horror washed over her seeing Rudolpho lying motionless on the floor, his eyes dull and lifeless from the bullet hole in his forehead.

Before she could react—aka freak out that someone standing right next to her had been shot dead—hard fingers yanked her wrist again. But, this time, they were Dan’s. He pulled her behind him and with his arm extended, finger on the trigger, took aim at Ernesto.

“Drop your weapon,” he ordered in the same lethal voice as before.

Metal clanged against the tile floor as Ernie, whose intellect was openly derided by her entire family, acted like he had a brain for once and dropped his gun. Or, he at least had an instinct for self-preservation because Dan looked and sounded terrifying inex-Marine, former cop, current Rossi Security badassmode.

---