Page 93 of The Belle and the Biker

"What do you mean?"

"It's my damn inheritance, and I'll see you in hell before I let you steal it from me."

"Of course, it's your inheritance. What are you talking about?"

He shoots me a sidelong glance of disgust.

"Technically, genetically, you're closer in line. Because your great-great-grandmother was a whore!" His voice rises to a scream. "But you shouldn't be rewarded just because Pansy Harkwell couldn't keep her legs shut. Your whole side of the family thinks they're such hot shit. You all look down on me. You always have, but you come from a whore!" Whenever he uses that word, his voice shoots up to a horrifying screech.

My mouth is dry, and my heart's beating so fast I can feel it pounding in my ears. I unbuckle my seat belt and reach over and grab the door handle. I tug frantically, but it won't open.

"Did you think I wouldn't think of that?" he shrieks. "Did you? Because Harold Harkwell is an idiot, is that right?"

"The inheritance isn't mine," I say desperately.

"Oh, it damn well is. Or it would be if I didn't do what had to be done. The lawyer from Asheville showed me the letter from your great-great-grandfather Jebediah."

"No, my great-great-grandfather's name was Quincy."

"That's what Pansy told everyone. But she let herself get knocked up by your great-grandfather, even though she was engaged to Quincy. Fucking slut. My people aren't sluts. And you all treat us like dog crap on your shoe."

"Technically, wouldn't my father be the heir, then?" Wait. Uh-oh. Does that mean Harold will go after my dad next?

"No, the will said the youngest of Jedediah's descendants."

"So why wouldn't the lawyer have come to me if the inheritance was mine?"

"Because he saw an opportunity. The letter was sealed for a hundred years, per the terms of Jebediah Harkwell's will, and the lawyer only opened it up a little over a month ago. Nobody else has seen this letter, and I was next in line. So he came to me. He's asking me for five million dollars to keep his trap shut."

He manages a little smile. "Of course, I'm never going to pay him. I will kill his ass as soon as I take care of you. I'll torture him until he tells me where the letter is, and then I'll cut him to pieces and throw him in the swamp."

My blood has turned to ice. There's only one reason he'd be telling me all this. He's going to make sure that I'll never be able to talk.

Well, he'll try.

He makes a quick right turn, heading down a one-lane road. I don't know where he's taking me, but he's got this all planned out. If I don't make my move soon, I'll be a dead woman. I may be a dead woman anyway, but I'll at least make him pay for it.

I grab ahold of the portion of the seat belt that crosses my chest and wrap my arm around it.

"What are you doing?" he shouts. He tries to speed up, but the road is too rocky, and the car swerves wildly.

"Don't try to escape! I'll make it hurt real bad if you try! If you cooperate, I promise you won't feel a thing when I—"

I claw at his face with my free hand, tearing my fingers down his cheek. He howls, and the car swerves wildly. I draw back my fist and punch him, jamming Tawny's two-prong ring into his cheek. At the same time, I slam my foot down on the brakes.

The car screeches off the road, and I lose hold of the seat belt. I fly forward, and my head slams into the windshield. Stars explode in front of my eyes.

Harold's high, shrill whine drills into my ears. "Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!"

Something jabs into my arm, and a wave of dizziness washes over me. Harold's infuriated screams fade away, and the world winks out.

* * *

I wake in darkness, curled up in a ball. Panicked, I fling my hands and feet out and strike something hard. I think I've been buried alive for a moment, and I start screaming at the top of my lungs. Then I'm jolted, violently I lift up in the air and slam down hard enough to make my teeth rattle. I realize I'm in the trunk of the car, and we've just taken such a sharp turn that Harold's wheels lifted off the ground and slammed onto the road again.

I feel around, hoping against hope to find my cell phone, but of course, it's not there. And I probably couldn't make a call out here in the middle of nowhere, even if I had it.

I hear muffled noise from the front seat. It sounds like a police broadcast, but I know I'm not in a police car. That wouldn't make any sense. I'm in Harold's trunk, and he will kill me. It's hot and stifling in here, and I can hardly breathe. This is the end. I'm not going to live to see another sunrise.

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