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“I wouldn’t,” the blond one says without a care while checking his gun.

“Who the fuck cares what you’d do, Mike?”

Mike doesn’t even take his eyes off his gun. He casually drops over his shoulder, “That’s Talong’s girl.”

A bomb exploding in the room would have caused less of a reaction. The dark haired one leaps away, hands extended like they’re coated in nitroglycerin. “I didn’t… Is she really—?”

Mike stares long at him. “Why do you think we’re here, dipshit?”

“Fuck!” He’s gone white as a sheet and can’t stop shaking his hands as if to prove he didn’t touch me. “We, uh… Can we get you anything?” he asks.

The man went from about to… To asking me if I want anything? I don’t know who this Talong is, but I’m realizing I shouldn’t have been willing to give him up so fast. Whoever he is, he could be the only way to get me out of here. Or break my body into a million tiny pieces.

“Water,” I say, my voice crackling after the long day.

“No problem. Bradly.” He snaps his fingers at the man who’s zipped his jumpsuit so fast his neck’s gone red.

“And something to eat. Maybe a pizza. Extra cheese. And turn on the TV.”

The two terrifying men scamper off to fulfill my wishes. Bradly fills one of the glasses in the bathroom from the tap while the third one’s on the phone ordering room service. As Bradly holds the glass in front of me, I stare up at him.

“Could I have some ice?” I drag my fingers over the bottom of the chair. “Please.”

His grunt of displeasure turns into abject panic. “No problem,” Bradly shouts and he flees out the door.

“I said a cheese pizza. You have to have something like that. It’s a fucking kitchen. Make me a god damn cheese pizza!”

With two violent mobsters answering to my every whim, I start to lean back.

Cold metal presses to the base of my skull.

“Cute,” Mike says, circling his gun around my head.

The bite of the barrel falls off my skin, but I can still feel it.

My pulse throbs against the steel, wiping out any sound but the rush of blood about to spurt from my spinal column.

“This isn’t your show, Miss. You’re going to sit there, quiet like, and not give us any trouble. Got it?”

“I wasn’t trying to be trouble. It’s been a long day. I’m really hungry and thirsty, and they offered too—”

He calmly pulls back the hammer. “I said to be quiet.”

My jaws slam shut.

“And when Talong shows up…you don’t move a muscle. Or else I’ll blow your head off right after his. Understand?”

I bite my lip to fight from speaking.

“You can nod,” he tells me. I jerk my head up and down. I got the message loud and clear.

“Here.” Ice clinks as Bradly thrusts out the glass of water. I reach a hand out, but Mike swipes it first. With his eyes locked on me, he takes a drink.

Then his lips knot.

His face curdles.

And he finally looks at the glass.

“Did you piss in this?” he shouts, whirling to his own man.

“It was for her,” Bradly mumbles only to be hit with the butt of a gun. It smashes his nose. Blood sprays from his nostrils, hitting my chest. I yelp and try to dodge, but it doesn’t matter. My once cute pink tank top is stained with mobster blood.

“You fucking degenerate!” Mike shouts, chasing him back. “Just do your damn job. We’re not here to fuck anyone, or make them drink your piss. Bradly, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Bradly stops trying to stuff tissues up his nose and shrugs.

“We’re here to keep an eye out for Talong. Do you think you can fucking do that?”

“Yeah,” the one by the phone says.

“Course,” Bradly mumbles.

“Good.” Mike moves to stuff his gun back in his waistband.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Now what?”

“Room service,” a cheery voice calls from the other side.

Mike nods to Bradly, who opens the door. I peer over their heads, hoping to recognize the delivery man, but he’s a stranger. Why did I even think I’d know him? No one knows I’m here. No one who cares about me, anyway.

The delivery guy quickly wheels the whole cart in. He doesn’t even wonder about the woman covered in blood sitting on a chair by the window. With a quick nod, he says, “Enjoy.” In a heartbeat, he’s gone, closing the door behind him.

“That was fast,” the wiry man says. “We should tell the boss his service here is top notch.”

Bradly, still holding the tissue to his face, reaches for the silver dome over a plate. “You really think he’ll care?”

“A compliment is a compliment,” the wiry one explains.

The dome lifts.

“What the fuck?”

“Why did you order an eggplant?”

“I didn’t. I swear. They must have—”

Mike lunges for his gun and everything happens at once. A fist smashes through Bradly’s nose, shattering what was already bruised. A leg kicks out, hitting the wiry one in the nuts and doubling him over. I blink, certain there was no way a man could fit under that dinner plate-sized dome.

Then he stands.

Aubry?

The face is gnarled like a tiger in a rampaging bloodlust, but that nose—even when it’s strained for oxygen, those lips—even when pulled up in a snarl, and those eyes—even when dark as death, are the same ones I woke up beside.

It’s Aubry. And he’s naked. Cock and balls swing without a care as he pounds his fist into Bradly’s face over and over turning the man into meat.

Oh, shit!

“Look out!” I shout and dive forward. Mike’s dragging his gun around, trying to get a shot, paying no attention to me. I plummet onto him, elbows out to smash into his shoulders.

My hope was to shove him to the ground, but he keeps his stance. I’m left hanging off of him like a backpack, arms flailing to knock the gun out. “Get the fuck off of me!” he shouts, one hand shoving into my forehead, the other trying to keep his gun.

A long, exhausting, famished night pumps adrenaline through my body. With no thought, I lunge forward and bite the back of his neck. Hard.

“Aah!” he screams, spinning around to get at me. In his haste, he smashes into the chair and we both fall. My hip and shoulder plunge through the wooden chair, shattering it. My vision jumps to white, and I moan at the pain throbbing up my whole side.

“Fucking fuckers!” I shout. Can I feel my toes? I can’t feel my toes!

Oh, wait. There they are and…

Mike rebounds onto his knees. He swings the gun up, aimed at me. “You fucking bi—”

Fingers tears through his hair, wrenching his head back. He blinks for a moment then groans, “Talong.”

“Mike,” Aubry says and pounds his fists into Mike’s face. Teeth rattle across the floor, but Aubry won’t stop. The gun tumbles from Mike’s finger, his head listing to the side. I scramble across the floor, chasing after it.

The warmth shocks me so much I nearly drop the gun. Which is when Aubry finishes smashing the shit out of Mike.

“Sadhvi?” he whispers, his shoulders heaving with the whole world.

I just watched him beat three men to near death while naked. And he came from nowhere. How? What the hell’s going on?

I need answers.

I deserve them!

My grip slackens and the gun flips around my finger. “Aubry…” I fall into his arms.

Familiar, safe. They close around me, promising to protect me. My instinct is to bury my face in his chest, but he pulls me away to scrutinize me. “Did they hurt you?” he damn near growls, looking about to eviscerate the men who are barely breathing.

“No,” I try assure him, but he looks like he’s mid-rampage and not about to give up now. “I want to go home.”

That pathetic plea is enough to puncture through. Holding my head in both hands, he wipes my cheeks with his thumbs and promises, “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Aubry lifts me to my feet. I wobble but balance myself by pressing the gun to his naked arm. He reaches for the weapon when a loud grunt catches my ear. The wiry one, the one with dark-hair who was going to rape me, crawls across the floor. He’s reaching for the phone to call for help.

Anger boils over inside of me.

I swivel the gun around, hunting for a target. The man pulls the phone down off the table. It hits him in the face, and he starts to dial.

Boom!

The phone explodes, burnt plastic and metal smashing into his face. He screams but I can’t hear him over the pounding in my ears.

“Nice shot,” Aubry shouts, then he picks me up off my feet and into his arms.

With the hot gun in my arms, I admit, “I was aiming at his crotch.”