Page 86 of Masked Seduction

My phone pings again, another photo from Nico. Jenna is still tied, now with a mocking caption: Sleep tight, lover boy.

Wrong move, ass clown.

I polish off the vodka, ice shards crunching between my teeth, and stride to the elevator. The night hasn’t ended, it’s simply reached intermission.

Time for act two.

CHAPTER 32

JENNA

“Oh… shit.”

I groan, pain being the first thing I register lancing from my jaw to the base of my skull. The second is movement, a low-grade vibration humming through padded leather, the sound of asphalt beneath tires. I blink, vision swimming, until overhead lights sharpen into focus. The scent of new-car leather mixes with the copper tang of blood in my mouth.

I shift, testing my limbs. My wrists are zip-tied behind me, ankles cinched with more plastic. They left my dress on, thankfully, but the belt has ridden up, pinning fabric beneath my ribs. Breathing hurts. Everything hurts.

A man the size of a vending machine sits to my right. He’s the one who cold-cocked me; the bruise blooming across his knuckles confirms it. Another enforcer, tall, hawk-nosed, sits to my left, pressing a .45 into his thigh, grinning at me like he’s ready to use it at any moment.

In the passenger seat is Nico Agosti.

The sight of him yanks me into complete consciousness. Dead, dark eyes, slicked-back hair, impeccable suit in a shade that might as well be called “blood-money burgundy.” He’s half-turned, forearm draped over the seatback, watching me like a trophy horse he hasn’t mounted yet.

“Sleeping Beauty opens her eyes,” he says. “Welcome back.”

My heartbeat spikes, but I grind it down. Panic never saves anyone. Staying calm and gaining information does. I lick my split lip, grimacing as I taste copper. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace scenic,” he replies, gaze dipping to my neckline before flicking to the streetlights flashing past. “You’re gonna love the view.”

The gorilla on my right snorts. “Boss, she’s a feisty one. Split your lip good.”

I allow myself a fractional smile. That at least feels like a small victory. His smug face now sports a partial red handprint and a split lip. I hope it stings.

“I went easy on him,” I mutter.

Hawk-nose elbows me hard in the ribs. My mouth opens as my breath explodes out of me, but I refuse to make a sound. Not a chance I’m going to give Nico the satisfaction of making my suffering obvious.

Nico studies me. “You still have bark, even muzzled. Interesting.”

I lean forward as far as the restraints allow. “You should worry less about my bark and more about Abram’s bite. Release me now and maybe he won’t remove your spine through your throat.”

His grin widens, humorless. “Who’s to say your lover even survived our little dinner interruption?”

My stomach twists. “He’s alive. You have no reason not to kill me if he wasn’t.”

Saying it makes it true. It has to be true.

“Is he?” Nico shrugs with theatrical indifference. “I fired, the bullet flew. Maybe I missed. Maybe I didn’t.”

Anger explodes within. I kick sideways, raking my bound wrists across Hawk-nose’s lap, catching soft tissue. He yelps, the pistol clattering to the floor mat.

Hands clamp my shoulders, slamming me backward. The vending machine drives a fist into my sternum. All the air abandons me in one whoosh, my vision going tunnel-dark. Tears sting my eyes, hot and humiliating.

“That’s enough,” Nico says, voice flat, lifeless. “We don’t damage the merchandise—yet.”

Merchandise. I want to vomit.

The SUV banks off the highway onto a narrower road. No more neon, just desert darkness swallowing the windows. My brain catalogs landmarks through the tinted glass—rare street signs, the silhouette of a faux-Tuscan gate. It looks like the Lake Las Vegas community.