Page 69 of Bastard Prince
Bradford chuckled ominously. “You fuckin’ wish, sweetheart.”
The inside of the building was dim, with only the light from the doorway and a small row of windows that sat high up near the roofline. The floor was hard-packed dirt that smelled like sweat and motor oil, and I immediately wanted to sneeze. As my eyes adjusted, I could see that while from the outside it looked like one huge, long building, the inside was actually divided into several different sized rooms. The one we were in was at the far end, about fifteen feet by fifteen feet, and there was a door on the inside wall that led to the additional rooms down the length of the building.
Bradford dragged us over to the far corner, then shoved us both down, hard. I fell sideways, my shoulder colliding with the metal wall before I bounced off to fall in a heap on the floor, but Enzo managed to land on his knees first, turning his body to put himself between the Sheriff and me.
“Why don’t you two street rats get cozy down there? I’ll go see about finding you some company.” Curling his lip, he sucked his teeth, his eyes raking over me where I sprawled on the dirt. “Then maybe we can get to know each other better.” With another vile smirk, he turned and made his way through the second door and disappeared farther into the building.
Looking around, I could see the space was mostly empty, but the corners were littered with junk. Cardboard boxes of what looked like machine parts, some spare lumber, and even a small pile of old jeans made up the sparse contents of the room. Turning to look at Enzo, I could tell he was a raging inferno, his jaw muscles bunched from how hard he was gritting his teeth, while his breaths sawed in and out of his chest like a bull.
I was seriously pissed too, but as always, my anger manifested itself as sarcasm and a strong case of resting bitch face.
“Well, this is fucking fantastic,” I deadpanned, rolling slowly and climbing to my knees. My shoulders ached from being cuffed behind my back, and my hip was throbbing where I had landed on it, aggravating my existing bruise. “What is it with people in this town? Are they all assholes?”
“Francesca,” Enzo cut into my grumbling. “Hurry. Can you reach my belt buckle?”
“Jesus, Enzo. Seriously? Now is not the time.”
“Babe.” He rolled his eyes. “The buttons.” When I only gave him a confused look, he gestured with his chin. “The buttons on my buckle. Can you reach them?”
I glanced down at the silver rectangle; the lotus engraved on the front impossible to make out in the darkness of the space, and considered. I remembered when we interrogated Ivan, Enzo had used a small sharp knife he had hidden within the buckle. I didn’t know how that could help us, but it was better than nothing. Looking again at the space between us, I gauged the height of my hands and his belt as close. With Enzo on his knees, if I turned around, I could possibly maneuver my fingers to access it.
“Yeah, I think I can,” I said shuffling backwards and getting closer to him. “Which buttons do you want me to press?”
I could feel him as he moved up behind me, his front pressed tight to my back, knees spread on either side of my legs. Stretching my fingers, I felt around for his buckle, but ended up grabbing a hand full of dick.
Hard dick.
I froze, turning to glance at him over my shoulder, one eyebrow raised in question.
“What?” he said, completely unapologetic. “So I like the thought of you in handcuffs. Sue me.”
I shivered at the visual his words provided. “How about we get out of here first, then talk about our sexy fantasies later.”
“So you admit you think the idea is sexy.”
“Fuck, Enzo. Which buttons?”
He laughed softly. “Top row, second from the left. Bottom row, far right. And Francesca?” he added, making me look at him again. “Iwillget you outta here safely.”
“I know you will.”
What I didn’t say was that I’d do everything in my power to get us out of here together.
Because Enzo and I were endgame, and that meant we fought for each other, no matter the odds.
Twisting my hands awkwardly against the cold metal of the cuffs, I flailed blindly until I located the buckle, one hand going to each row of hidden buttons.
“Do I have to press them at the same time?” I asked.
“Yeah, babe. Hurry.”
I could feel the sweat trickling down my back in the stifling heat of the room. I had thought it was hot before, but being in this metal box, with no windows or air circulation, was starting to get to me. My hands shook as I felt along the buckle, locating the bottom button easily, but the top one was harder to get to, having to crank my wrist hard in order to even reach the row.
The sound of footsteps coming in our direction only added to the pressure, and I fumbled again as I attempted to find it.
“Come on, baby. You can do it.”
Taking a deep breath, I tried again, finding the first button on the left, then sliding to over to the second. Once I was sure I had it, I pressed, hearing the low metallicclickas the mechanism inside the buckle released its prize.
