Page 147 of Nest of Thieves
I gasp for air. “Wait!”
Mac loosens his hold. “What, Kitten? What could you possibly have to say for yourself?”
The betrayal in that question guts me, but this is my chance.
“How about one last drink? If I’m going to die, let me at least have some tequila.”
Vette hums and snatches the bottle from the counter, ripping the lid off. “You want a drink, mami?” He slowly walks toward where Mac holds me hostage. “Take a drink.”
Placing the bottle to my lips, he tips it up, and I glare at him, swallowing the burning liquid that fills my mouth. He keeps it tipped until tequila dribbles down my chin.
He leans toward me and lowers the bottle. “Good girl.” I spit at him, but he steps back, laughing as he goes. “Easy, mami. All is fair in love and war, right?”
“You’re not going to drink with me?” I ask, jerking in Mac’s arms. “Cowards.”
The three of them snarl, and a shock of fear races through me. Vette grabs three shot glasses from the lower cabinet.
“All right, mami. We’ll toast to your death, then Lark here will let Mac carve your heart out.”
I struggle again. “Fuck. You.”
“Like I said, we already did that.” Lark takes a shot glass from Vette.
Vette walks over and hands one to Mac. Keeping the arm around my throat, Mac takes the tequila.
“It’s been nice knowing you, Kitten.”
They shoot the tequila.
I break out of Mac’s arms, and he throws his shot glass at the wall, racing after me with Vette hot on his heels. I run to the end of the counter, but Lark intercepts me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He grabs me and places me on the counter.
Vette pins my arms down and Lark holds my legs.
“Get the knife!” Lark shouts at Mac.
“No. Not that one. Hold her. I’ll be back.”
“Seriously?” Lark calls at his retreating back.
Vette mutters in Spanish, scowling down at me. “You had us good, mami. We thought you were the one.”
“Blame your boss,” I say, thrashing to try and break the hold they have on me. “He’s the one who ordered the hit.”
“Liar,” Lark hisses.
“It’s true.” I try again to escape, but when I fail, I collapse onto the counter. “The least you could do is make it quick.”
“Now, why would we do that?” Lark whispers.
“Didn’t you care about me?”
“No,” he lies.
Ouch. I let the natural response to his hurtful words take over my face, showing them how much they hurt me.
“Cry all you want,” Vette says. “It’s not going to save you.”
