Page 156 of Mess With Me

The man stands up. Then he shocks me by tossing his head back and laughing. If his smile is terrifying, his laugh is more so. It’s unhinged. I suddenly don’t feel so brave.

“Sasha,” Sam says behind him.

The man abruptly stops laughing. He turns around, tromps toward Sam, and rears his arm back.

There’s a sickeningly wet thud as his fist connects with Sam’s face, followed by the splatter of blood on the floor.

“No!” I cry, wrenching myself against my ties.

“So you do care about your piece of shit brother,” the man says. “Vincent never thought you did. But he was wrong about a lot of things.”

I crane my neck around the man, but I can only see Sam’s shoulder where it’s twisted behind him and the top of his head where it hangs.

Sam. My feelings don’t make any sense.

But I have no time to parse them, because the man’s in my face again, looming over me. “Macklin.”

He says it loud enough that I know he’s not talking to me.

My brother makes a gurgling noise behind him.

“I’m all about equality. That means it’s time to tell me where the money is, or I’m going to mess up this pretty girl’s face just like yours.”

Sam makes a grunting sound.

The man cracks his knuckles. I look around, panicked. But there’s nothing I can do. I’m tied to this chair. I make a whimpering sound but bite my tongue quickly. I can’t let him see I’m scared. I begin to squeeze my eyes shut as he pulls his arm back.

No!

I sit up straight, chin up, even as my lip’s trembling. “You want to hit me? Hit me,” I spit.

“My fuckin’ pleasure,” the man says.

He swings, but Sam shouts, “Stop! I’ll tell you.”

The man’s fist is inches from my face. He smiles again, and I can’t help shuddering.

Then he turns his back on me.

Sam gives him an address. “Thirty minutes. Maybe less. There’s a loose panel in the closet…”

The man stands there a moment, then slips his hand under his coat and pulls out something black and shiny.

My stomach turns when I see what it is.

A gun.

I tighten my fists. I have the insane thought that I can somehow wrestle it away from him. Point it at him and call the cops. I’ve shot a gun before. It wouldn’t be my first time.

Chester.

He must be losing his mind right now.

Everyone must be. Cass would have called Griffin because I never showed up at her place. Or maybe Chester’s called him.

Either way, I can almost see Griffin now, speeding toward me on the freeway, too many hours away.

I picture him finding me right here on the floor, a bullet between my eyes just like the woman he lost before.

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