Page 49 of All Tied Up
When no one appeared, I cocked my piece and stepped into the line of sight. A cold dread iced my veins. It wasn’t Bane or Oz.
“Well, happy New Year to you too, Carver.”
The eerily languid tone didn’t fool me. I knew who it was, even in the darkness. He didn’t even have his gun pulled. Instead, he stood, leaning against the wall with an unlit cigarette in his mouth and his arms crossed over his chest, as if he had been waiting for me. Inside the family, there was only one crazierson of a bitch than the one staring at me now. And honestly, I thought I’d have preferred the other one. Because the real psychopath wasn’t Blaise Hughes’s best friend.
This one was.
Which meant he wasn’t here on Linc’s orders. The boss had sent him.
“Gage,” I replied.
“Real nice room you got. Bet that view was something,” Gage Presley said as he pulled out a lighter from his pocket and flicked it, illuminating his face. That was his biggest weapon. His looks. He was even fucking prettier than Oz, but unlike Oz, the man had no soul.
And this was who Blaise had sent to get me. My future had just been shortened.
“Where are we going?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
He shoved off from the wall and inhaled. “Ah, back where the sun is shining and it’s a brisk sixty-five degrees.”
Ocala. To the Hugheses’ property. The billion-dollar horse racing ranch that also housed the most dangerous and powerful man in the South.
I glanced back across the large suite at the bed one last time to see Noa sleeping peacefully. The chances that this would be the last time I saw her were pretty damn high. I might not even see another sunset. But if this was it, then at least she knew how I felt. I’d said the words. I’d told her I loved her. I’d held her, fucked her, worshipped her, kissed her several times tonight. If she was safe, then I had my peace.
“Okay,” I replied, lowering my gun. “Let me grab my shirt and boots,” I told him.
He took the cigarette from his lips. “Not even gonna make this fun?” he asked with a smirk.
He fucking knew I wasn’t going to refuse to leave with him. Just like Blaise had known it when he sent him to get me.
“We leave, she’s unharmed—that’s all I care about,” I replied. Although leaving her here without an explanation or goodbye was fucking painful.
He cocked a brow. “All right, get your boots, lover boy, and let’s go.”
My gaze went back to her, and the only thing keeping me from going over there and looking at her face one more time was the psycho in the room. Walking over, I picked up my discarded shirt, socks, and boots, then slid my wallet back into my pocket, along with both cell phones. The one I thought I had taken the only tracker out of but apparently they’d had another one on me too and the one no one knew about.
Starting to turn and head toward the door, I saw the hotel stationery on the entry desk with a pen. I paused and looked from it to Gage. “Just let me write her a goodbye.”
He inhaled deeply, then let it out through his nose as he stared at me. “Tell me something,” he said, looking relaxed and at ease. “Would you burn down a house for her? Not give a fuck who was in it?”
I glanced at her again. “I’d burn down a goddamn county.” And I wished I’d burned down Ocala, but it was too late now.
His chuckle was low with an unhinged sound to it that reminded me of just who I was talking to. “Make it quick,” he said, then took another pull from the cigarette and leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching me.
Picking up the pen, I knew he’d read whatever I wrote. He could see it from where he stood. I couldn’t tell her why or where I was headed. But if these were my last words to her, I wanted them to count.
Forever has no time frame. You own my soul in this life and the ones to come.
—Ransom
When I laid the pen down, breathing became hard. Inhalingonly made the agony in my chest more unbearable.
“Well, aren’t you a fucking poet?” Gage said with amusement.
And aren’t you a fucking psychopath?
Twenty-Three
Ransom
