Page 42 of Beautiful Villain

I felt like some stupid chick from a horrible B-rated movie, turning around in a full circle and gawking into the night. While the parking lot was well lit, that didn’t mean assholes weren’t hiding in the scruffy foliage surrounding the property. Years before, someone had obviously tried to make the setting like some garden oasis, but no one had kept up with the plantings. Now everything was a freaking mess, what few flowers bloomed overtaken by thorny bushes. That didn’t provide any comfort.

My breath skipping, I continued to scan the area as I hurried to my car. I dared not breathe a sigh of relief when I managed to open the door, tossing my purse inside. The skin on the back of my neck prickled, my mind swirling with the warning Rian had issued.

He was here. I could feel it.

Trying to pretend I wasn’t bothered, I slid my hand inside my purse, grabbing the can of mace, which I’d never used. “Leave me alone, Kirill. I just can’t with you.”

Oh, yeah. What a stupid thing to say.

The play by play of the horror movie continued to roll as the only sound I heard was the light breeze rustling the bushes. Swallowing, I threw a look over my shoulder, unable to see anything in the glare of the overhead light.

But I knew he was there.

My hand remained gripped around the can, flipping the top and pressing my finger on the small stem. I could only imagine what punishment I’d receive if I managed to spray the powerful villain in the eyes.

When nothing happened, I tossed my bag onto the passenger seat, still clinging to the can. Then I heard a voice, deep and ominous.

“So you were expecting him to come to your rescue, the fucking Russian. I heard you were sleeping with him.”

Sleeping with him. Oh, my God. Did this have something to do with Rian? Did my cousin put him up to this? A wave of nausea smashed into my system.

Inhaling, I held my breath, trying to remember why I recognized the terse tone. The night before. The asshole from the table of men, the ones Kirill thought I was somehow involved with as an enemy. Oh, dear God. Still violently angry from everything that had occurred earlier, I swung around, never hesitating before I began spraying in a wide arc. Tiny beads of the substance formed a slight fog in the light, but I didn’t need clear vision to realize there were three men standing only a few feet away.

They seemed much larger than when they’d been sitting at the table. My throat continued to tighten, and I glanced toward the back door.

Rory seemed to notice. “No one is coming to save you, Candy. That’s something you should accept.”

Fuck. The man knew my name. This was about Rian.

And Kirill.

What did you do, girl? What the hell did you do?

“What are you talking about?” I asked, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice.

One of the others laughed as he gazed up and down. I didn’t need to see his expression to know what he was thinking.

Rory laughed as well, taking a step closer. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

I’d never felt much fear while living in my parents’ house, other than the occasional nightmares about mythical creatures that even haunted me in the daylight. Even coming to New York hadn’t given me anxiety over criminals lurking in the darkness. But over the last two days, the time more like years than mere hours, I’d learned that often monsters didn’t crawl out from under beds or slide beneath cracks underneath a closet door.

They were big and bold, brawny and ripped with sensuality, although a mere look in their eyes allowed you to understand just how dangerous they were.

But right now, the strange feeling that the three men standing in front of me like hulking masses of violence was almost paralyzing. I realized the can was knocked out of my hand, even though two of the bastards wiped their eyes furiously.

“What the hell is this?” I struggled to say, my chest already aching from the difficulty catching my breath, remnants of the spray assaulting my eyes. At least the burn was real. This was nothing but a yank of my sanity.

Rory was obviously leading the pack, the other two his lackeys. He took another step closer, far too close. In the harsh light, the grin on his face reminded me of the Riddler, stupidly lopsided and full of a sickening kind of knowing. This had been planned out, the bastards waiting for me to leave.

Alone.

He smelled of alcohol and rage, the stench repulsive. Yet he wasn’t drunk enough to be able to pass this off as a horrible mistake.

“This,” he said, his tone even more dark and menacing, “you might call an intervention.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” The damn music inside the bar was loud, far too much so for David to hear me. While there were other businesses close by, none of them were open this time of night. I was all alone in a den of vipers. One of them was blocking direct access to the back door, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t sprint toward the front of the building, racing inside. David was a large dude, plus he had access to the gun Rian kept.

The fucker took another step toward me. “That means, sweetheart, that you’re coming with us.”

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