Page 40 of A Captive Situation

I let out a harsh laugh. He didn’t care, as long as his neck was safe. That’s all he cared about. I was stuck in this situation with another selfish prick. Lovely. “Do you know who put the contract out?”

An emotion flickered in his gaze before he cut it off. “Someone in my family.”

Air caught, trapped in my lungs. What kind of family did that to each other?

A Mafia family, that’s who. The answer came immediately.

That’s the kind of person I was stuck in this entire fucked-up situation with too. A Mafia ex-cop. I rubbed at my forehead, a pounding headache suddenly showed up. “This is such a twisted joke on me. The universe is really laughing at me.” Sick laughter rippled up from my sternum. Sick and twisted, and bitter.

He was shutting down, closing off to me.

“I wasted almosttwo decadeson apiece of shit boyfriendonly to getkidnappedby you.You.” I sneered, that bitter laughter morphing into something sounding unhinged. “A Mafia ex-cop who’s in the middle of an identity crisis. Who are you? Really? Are you a cop or are you Mafia? Maybe you need to pick a fucking lane. Arrest people. Kill people. I don’t care. Justdo something.”

His jaw kept getting harder and harder the more I spoke.

I exploded, my fury refusing to be repressed anymore. “Sorry, but I’m kinda for you just killing people if that gets us the best result. Iwant my life back!”

I hadn’t realized I started to stand as I was beginning to yell, but as I started across the room to him, he shoved up and caught me, his hands clamping down on my hips.

I officially lost my shit when he did that.

Wrong fucking move, dude.

Chapter Fourteen

Sawyer

“Sawyer—”

I didn’t realize I was across the room, with a hand up in the air, as if I was going to strike him until an ugly look came over Jake’s face. He was up in my face, forcing me backward, but if anything, that unleashed more of my fury.

It was alive inside of me. Writhing. Needing an outlet.

Fuck this guy. Goddamn. This guy.

I was snarling because in that moment, I hated him. How fucking dare he involve me in his shit?

Images flashed in my mind.

How he got in my face on the subway train.

How surprised he was at seeing me in the police station.

How he stared at me, coming to stand in front of me as if he wanted to say something to me.

How his cousin threw her arms around me, demanding I come with them, but it was his look that was coming to my memory now.

How he looked pleased at the thought.

Pleased.

Fucking pleased!

A pent-up growl began low in my stomach, and as it rose up, moving through my throat, traveling to my mouth, it was savage and boiling, and when I let it loose, I was seeing things in a whole new light.

He did this. He wanted me to come with them.

This was his fault.

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