“Look, Lily,” he said, making it clear we were still pretending not to be siblings, “I plan to negotiate for your release.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I said, a knee-jerk reaction, forgetting the character I should be playing.
“Why not? You don’t give a shit about me,” he said, maintaining his cover.
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I’m a heartless bitch,” I said as I stared daggers at my brother. He had to know I’d never leave him.
“Don’t be a dumb one either. Maybe your man will make a deal.”
My man? Who was he referring to? He couldn’t possibly mean Striker. I’d told him I’d ended that relationship. Though I hadn’t told him that Striker was Connor—mostly because I hadn’t seen or talked to my brother a lot over the last few months.
He had to be talking about Griff. If anyone had a prayer’s chance in hell to find us, it would be him. He owned a security company. The more I thought about it, I wondered if Griff had put a tracker on me. Then again, I didn’t have my purse. My exodus from the wedding had been impulsive. The only things I wore, besides the flimsy bridesmaid dress, were a bra, panties, shoes, and earrings. Though I would have hated it in any other situation, I prayed Griff had defied my privacy and planted a tracker in or around the pearls at my ears.
I clicked my heels on the floor, hating they’d secured my ankles to the legs of the chair. Those heels were the only weapons at my disposal, along with nails and teeth. The latter was the only one available, and I didn’t like the idea of biting any of the sweaty, disgusting men who had brought us here.
“You hear me?” Matty said.
I came back from the faraway place I’d gone and focused on my brother. I might have said something, but the leader was back.
“We have company,” the leader said, his gaze landing on me.
I couldn’t imagine what any of this had to do with me—until the most unlikely person entered the room.
“Mr. Black,” the leader said.
Striker—Conner King—had another name, it seemed. Mr. Black. I might have shaken my head if I wasn’t so captivated by the man who looked like the best-dressed biker I’d thought him to be. From leather pants, shit-kicking boots, and that beat-all-to-hell leather jacket he never seemed to be without, he was still the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Are you sure you want her back?” The leader grinned as though his question was the funniest ever.
“She’s my wife,” Striker said, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but here.
Later, I would guess my tiny gasp and quick glance at my brother played into whatever was going on.
“That’s the man she was with,” the leader said with glee.
Striker stepped forward and decked my brother square in the jaw. Matt’s head snapped back, and I let out a strangled cry. Then Striker was in front of me and one of the leader’s henchmen freed me from my bonds. Striker wasn’t exactly gentle when he helped me to my feet.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to punish her for you?” the leader asked.
“No,” Striker answered.
The leader gave a full belly laugh. “I guess for the money you paid, you earned the right.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I sneered.
The men who had filled the room laughed, along with the leader.
Striker leaned down and whispered, “For once, do what you’re told.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Even quieter, he said, “If you want to live, you will.”
If the room hadn’t erupted in laughter, they might have heard me slip up and say, “I’m not leaving my brother.”
“Just this once, trust me,” Striker said as he practically dragged me from the room.
If I hadn’t spotted the men with guns in strategic places in the open-air main area of the warehouse, I would have dug in my heels. Instead, I waited to speak until we were alone and close to his bike.
“If something happens to him, I’ll kill you myself,” I said. When he held out a helmet to me, I refused to take it. “I’m not leaving.”
“If you don’t, we’ll all die.” I held firm, and he sighed before checking his watch. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Like you punching my brother? Oh, what a big man you are, hitting a man who can’t defend himself.”
“I used that distraction to slip him something to use to free himself. But if you don’t get your pretty ass on my bike, they are going to know something's up.”
I snatched the helmet and said, “You better not be lying to me,” before putting it on my head.
Then I was forced to curl my body around his, remembering what it felt like to be this close to him, before he took off. Seconds later, a blast lit up the night’s sky. I turned my head and saw the explosion that seemed to come from the abandoned warehouse. He hadn’t been lying. I prayed my brother had gotten out safely.
We’re going to die repeated in my head as we rode at breakneck speeds until we pulled into a garage. I hopped off the bike and slapped his arm when he stood next to me.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“For almost killing us.”
He grinned and nearly killed me with his smile instead.
“I want to talk to my brother,” I demanded.
“Not now, princess,” he said, taking me by the arm and marching me forward.
“Where are we going?”
“To save our asses,” he said.
I’d closed my eyes for most of the trip and didn’t exactly know where we were. He opened a door, and inside, he pressed a button for an elevator. When it opened, he pulled me in, waved a key card in front of a reader, pressed another button, and instead of going up, doors opened behind us.
“What’s this?” I said.
“Plan A.”
We were in a dimly lit tunnel. The fact that he’d used a keycard to gain us access meant I was depending not only on that he knew where we were going but that he could get us out of the underground space if things went tits up. “This is some horror movie shit.”
“More like Mission Impossible,” he grumbled, still pulling me along.
“What? You fancy yourself Tom Cruise and me one of your many leading ladies?”
“I’m taller than Tom Cruise and better looking.”
I could have lied and disagreed, but I blamed my non-response on the thumping beat of music above us.
“You’re taking me to a club?” To make sure I properly conveyed my exasperation, I added, “And it better not be a sex club. If you think I’m screwing you, you’re one toolbox short of reality.”
He stopped in front of a door and locked his gaze with mine. “If I wanted to fuck you, princess, I have no doubt you’d let me.”
He could have added close your mouth or you’ll let the flies in for the way my jaw hung open. How dare he say that—true or not? But I had no time to cut him down a peg, because he’d keyed a code into a panel as he spoke. When he finished, the door opened, and music surrounded us.
Three
Connor