Page 31 of Convict's Game

That wasn’t all the men, though. Maybe only half. Two pursued the quiet mantra woman up the metal steps to a suspended walkway. A third woman had set off in the oppositedirection to me, with her own group stalking her. The fourth with the complex hairstyle, I couldn’t see.

Not one of the men resembled Jacobs.

It had been only weeks since I last saw him at a corporate board meeting. He’d been in a suit and tie, smug and unspeaking. It was hard to place that man as one of these attackers.

He had to be here, though, which meant I needed to hunt the hunters. But in that came a problem.

Three men prowled in my direction.

One, in a black gym shirt which showed off too-thick muscles, pointed at me. “You’re mine.”

I backed away, matching their pace. None were Jacobs. They were too big. He was slighter than all of them.

At his statement, the man next to the gym bunny swore then hooked an arm around his throat and tossed him to the floor, a fight breaking out between them that tripped up the third man.

I took my chance and fled around a corner.

Hugging the wall, I stumbled in my footsteps and clung to a pillar, temporarily out of sight to anyone in the main space of the massive basement. I breathlessly searched the group still fighting over the woman with the sleek blonde hair. She was on all fours, trying to crawl away. With a rip, her dress tore away to reveal her underwear, one of her shoes already missing.

A man caught her ankle and dragged her back, and I winced. She’d be hurt. Her knees bloodied by the rough concrete and her flesh bruised.

None of them cared, and not a single member of the large group gave me any glimmer of recognition.

The man who had her in his grip crawled over her, changing his hold to the back of her neck while he wrestled with the opening to his jeans, freeing his dick. A second tore off his clothes and dove at the pair.

Oh God. One way or another, that woman’s game was almost up.

I couldn’t watch.

On the far wall, the woman who’d run up the gantry had reached a metal walkway that bisected the wall, leading to what looked like an overseer’s office with more steps heading down the other side. The men who’d chased her had been joined by others. I scoured the group, desperation filling me. Nope, not Rhys Jacobs.

Where was he?

I’d counted off, how many, twelve of the twenty? More?

A howl broke my thoughts. A man with a top knot of blond hair shoved another off the gantry. The victim dangled by an arm from the rail, high above the warehouse floor, his hands slipping dangerously on the metal.

No one helped him. The woman with the black hair appeared and kicked out at one of her pack with impressive poise. He stumbled away to be replaced instantly. The next man captured her, pulling her tight against his body.

He kissed her. Ran a hand down her body to yank up her dress and expose her bare ass, his fingers sliding between her legs. She laughed and slapped his face. He captured her hand and touched his forehead to hers, pure fury and lust holding his features tight.

Footsteps sounded closer to me, snapping me back to my own game. I spun to face a man prowling around the corner at the far end of the room, the way I’d come. He didn’t run, and for too many heartbeats, neither did I. His focus fell on me like a spotlight.

A bolt of familiarity hit me.

In this place of depravity, he was the bright glimmer of recognition I’d so badly needed.

Except this wasn’t Jacobs.

The man taking purposeful, slow steps in my direction wore faded jeans and a grey shirt, open a few buttons at his throat, and with his sleeves rolled up to show strong forearms. He was tall, with messy dark hair, and inkwork on his skin.

I couldn’t see his lower face behind the mask, but I knew his shape. He was a lost boy, a gang member for whom this nightmare was any other day of the week. I’d touched the white bandage on his arm and wondered about the scar at his temple. The walking boot was missing, swapped out for running shoes.

My bottom lip trembled, and fresh tears threatened. I hated it here, and Convict offered safety and protection I couldn’t take.

As much as I wanted to run to him, I turned and bolted the other way.

Chapter 11