Page 37 of Gluttony (Seven Deadly Sins #4)

Fuck, I hope I’m not being taken out of the country, because I think it is now safe to say, these two goons are not police and as Big Guy pays for the toll, I realize I’ve officially been kidnapped.

Still, by some miracle, I keep my big mouth shut and just stay focused on where we’re going while the guys talk about shit that I don’t understand. Something about plumbing and the ground being level enough to not send shit back up the toilet.

Yeah, this is surreal.

To my relief, we veer south and within fifteen minutes, they stop the car in an empty parking lot with warehouses all around us. Great, this is how I die…in an abandoned lot somewhere on the fucking East River docks.

“Come on, sweetheart, time to move out.” Big Guy steps out first while Shorty turns around in his passenger seat and smiles at me.

“You doin’ okay?” I don’t give him the satisfaction of answering, just narrow my eyes and stay silent. In my head, though, that’s a whole different story. “Look, I don’t make the rules, ya know?” Then he shrugs as he opens the passenger door and joins his buddy.

By this point, they’ve dropped the pretense of wearing the uniform. The caps are in the car and the button downs have been replaced by leather jackets.

Who the fuck are these guys and where the hell did Mickey find them?

As I try to rack my brain with some logical answers, the loud roar of an engine drags my attention back to the reality of my situation.

The guys stand outside my door like they’re afraid I’ll run away, which I must admit, did cross my mind.

Problem is…where the fuck would I go and what are my chances of making it when King Kong over here has legs twice as long as mine? None, that’s what.

To my surprise, there are two motorcycles pulling up and one of them is the female cop, who I’m guessing is no cop at all judging by the way her costume is completely gone.

What does make complete sense is that she’s the leader of these thugs.

I don’t need to hear it, it’s written all over their faces as they turn to the side and give a view of their features.

The respect, the adoration, the need to please.

It would be cute if I wasn’t the victim of a kidnapping.

The woman doesn’t say anything, she just nods to the entrance. By her side is the fourth cop that was at the hotel room. He was standing in front of Hadley and Orion while the woman was pinning Hayes against the wall, no doubt a guard dog.

Just as the thought passes, the man plucks a blond braid and pulls the woman to him, slamming his mouth to hers and giving her a quick, albeit hot as fuck, kiss before grinning like a madman and slapping her on the ass. As a reward, she punches him in the shoulder and walks away.

So fucking weird. What mobster movie did I just get dropped into and how do I get the fuck off this reel?

“Outchya go.”

I think I growl as Shorty grabs my bicep and helps me out of the car. Fear is crawling under my skin but anger is making a comeback with every passing minute.

“If it’s not in this life, I will fuck you up from beyond the grave.” Good one, Bowie, scare this dude by telling him you’re going to haunt him once he kills you. So, when he bursts into laughter, I can’t say I’m surprised.

“You’re cute. Come on, let’s go.”

The inside of the warehouse is empty save for two chairs facing each other and a table between them.

“Hey, Donny Brasco called and he wants his movie set back.” Stupid Bowie, shut your fucking mouth for once.

I’m expecting a gun pointed to my forehead. Instead, I get three male voices booming with laughter while Badass Bitch just smirks like she’s impressed by me.

“I like her, she reminds me of you.” That’s from the fourth guy and now that I have a closer look, I notice a gnarly scar from the top of one eye, over his lid and down to his cheek.

I wish I could say he’s ugly and scary because of it, but this guy’s genes are so good that even with a scar that size on his face, he’s still hot as fuck.

Shaking the inappropriate thought out of my head, I turn to face the woman. Maybe I can negotiate with her. Woman to woman. Although, she doesn’t give me the impression that negotiating is her favorite pastime.

Shorty sits me down then cuts the ties binding my wrists while Blondie walks up to the chair on the other side of the table. No one speaks, not even me, which is a feat.

“Be good,” he says, one hand on my shoulder like a warning of what will happen if I’m not. I do my best not to growl but it’s futile. Bringing my wrists in front of me, I rub at the tender flesh. I’m not stupid enough to try something when I’m outnumbered four to one.

Blondie is tapping away on one of those old timer phones from the turn of the century. I can even hear the beeping of each letter she’s pressing. Just that is torture enough. Forget waterboarding, write a novel on a burner phone for an hour and I’ll spill all my fucking guts.

“What do you want from me?” Can’t get answers if you don’t ask questions.

Blondie looks up at me, the smirk gone, and in its place a titanium wall of nothingness. She places a knife and a gun on the table in front of her before turning the chair and sitting, using the back to rest her forearms.

“Not a thing.”

I’m about to protest, yell, curse and whatever else to get some fucking information when a car outside the warehouse comes screeching to a halt and three car doors slam closed.

Three.

Oh, thank fuck.

Hayes is the first to rush in, finger pointed at Blondie, who looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Hadley is coming my way, rage flashing in his eyes while Orion is trying to hold Hayes back.

“This wasn’t necessary.”

What the fuck does that mean?

“A deal is a deal, pretty boy. Not my fault you didn’t have the balls to go through with it.

” Scar man chuckles but there’s zero humor in his voice as he narrows his eyes on Hayes.

It’s possessive and it doesn’t take a genius to know that he doesn’t just hook up with Blondie, he worships her.

It would be romantic if not for…every fucking thing happening right now.

As Hayes gets in Blondie’s face, she doesn’t even stand, that’s how confident this woman is because he’s not short by any definition of the word. The twins are easily over six foot three with bodies carved by the gods, but Blondie just sits there, unaffected by his tirade.

Hadley tries to shoulder bump Scarface and that’s when shit goes south really fucking quick.

My gasp is so loud, I think I scare the guys behind me but it couldn’t be helped. Scarface has a big fucking knife at Hadley’s throat and, to my horror, Hadley has his own knife at the dude’s…balls? What is happening right now?

“Tell your brother to step back or your aorta is going to redecorate this place.” Scarface is dead serious, not a trace of the humor from minutes ago.

“Good luck fucking your girl without any balls, mate.” Hadley, you stupid, stupid, man.

Orion moves and my attention goes straight to him, our eyes locking and my fear for Hadley no doubt showing all over my face.

“Enough with the pissing match. You.” Blondie points to Hayes. “Step back before shit gets real. You.” This time she points her finger to Hadley as she rises to her full height. “Don’t play games you can’t win. Step away from my husband.”

My gaze darts to Hadley and after they both grin at each other like this is some sort of killing foreplay, they both step away at the same time. I think psycho recognizes psycho.

“Ballsy, I like it,” Scarface says with a nod of his head.

“Almost ball-less, doubt you’d’ve enjoyed that.” Fucking Hadley.

“Look, clearly you have regrets but that’s not how shit works. I told you this back at the hotel.” Blondie steps away from the desk, her back to me as she addresses the brothers. “Once you put in an order, shit gets done, and most importantly, debts are paid.”

It takes my brain a second to understand what she’s saying.

“You have regrets.” As they’re all talking at each other, my mind is reeling, eyes searching out each of the brothers but no one is looking at me, no one is paying attention to the fact that I’m having a bit of a meltdown.

First, Mickey organized a beat down, now the men I trusted had me kidnapped? For what? Why would they do this?

How fucking dare they?

When Shorty and Big Guy step into the melee of arguing idiots, I lose my fucking mind altogether. In fact, in my defense, I think I’ve reached a point of complete and utter insanity.

Leaning forward, I grab the gun from the table and point it to the roof of the warehouse and start shooting.

“Shut the fuck up! All of you!” What I don’t account for is the fact that warehouses are made of steel, and bullets…? Well, they apparently bounce off and come back to bite us in the ass.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

“Bowie, no!!”

“Someone stop her!”

I hear the voices but all I see is the red of betrayal like a curtain over my eyes. My forefinger just keeps pressing against the trigger over and over until I hear the whizzing of a bullet way too fucking close to my head.

I duck to avoid it, although I’m pretty sure it does nothing at all, when I feel a presence beside me. On instinct, I raise the gun and scream, my lids screwed shut.

When I open my eyes once more, Scarface is standing in front of the barrel, his hands raised and a dark, foreboding grin on his face.

“D, don’t be cute.” Blondie doesn’t even sound scared.

That second of distraction is all it takes for Hadley to push Scarface away and stand in his place.

“Do it, Little Rabbit. Fucking do it.” Now his hand is on my wrist, his eyes begging me for…what exactly?

“You did this. You betrayed me, and for what?”

“I know, baby. We’re sorry.” Hadley’s words make no sense.

“Sorry? You’re sorry? For what? Fucking me while you played hide and go seek your prey?

Or are you sorry for making me trust you?

Maybe you’re sorry because my pussy will no longer be an open buffet?

” With every word, my voice rises and rises until I see my hands shaking as I try my best to keep the gun steady.

“Yes.”

“Fuck you.” My scream is borderline manic.

No, not borderline. I’m shrieking like a banshee, hurting my own ears, but I can’t stop.

I can’t control my body or my voice or my mind that’s telling me my whole fucking life is one big pile of heated shit.

When my screams end, my body relaxes just enough for me to take a deep, albeit shaky, breath.

And to my horror, I pull the trigger.