Page 126 of Moretti Blood Brothers: Vol. Two Books 5-7

P iper wriggled her arms uselessly for the hundredth time and one of the security men shook his head at her.

“Just untie me, would you? It’s not like I can get past you and run away.” She pleaded again.

“Shut your mouth and I won’t shoot you. How’s that for a deal?” A dark-skinned man spoke, lifting a can of Red Bull and taking a long drink.

So far, they hadn’t done anything to hurt her, but she’d seen Oliver fall to his knees and collapse, so she had to assume he was dead.

Which meant no one was coming for her.

And even if she was saved, Oliver was still dead.

The black streaks she assumed she had down her face were testament to the tears she’d cried—okay, screamed—until they’d shoved some crap into her mouth to silence her. The tears had continued to flow, regardless.

Oliver was dead.

She suspected Kurt was, too.

This was all her fault. Would they get to Sage, too? Were these men vampires?

“If you were going to kill me, you would have by now,” she muttered.

A tall man wearing a long leather jacket glanced at her. “Stop watching all that Hollywood shit. I could just as easily kill you now as I could in an hour.”

Gulp.

There were five men in the room with her, and she had a feeling they were waiting for further instructions. One of them was attempting to break into her laptop.

He wouldn’t succeed.

All journalists’ laptops were protected with an auto-destruct technology if it sensed a hacker. Or the journalist in question was forced to give up a password. A different one than your everyday one.

Once unlocked, it immediately dumped all data to the servers and sent a distress signal which anyone could pick up, but more importantly, it went to local authorities.

They would trace the laptop—and her—pretty soon.

Actually, she didn’t know when.

But sooner or later.

Hopefully not before these terrifying men shot her, or however they planned to kill her.

This was bad. She knew Oliver had been right, and she had gotten herself involved in a dangerous story. Piper knew now that vampires were real, and it was clear they were powerful beings who did not want to be found.

These men could be vampires.

“Listen, I’m willing to drop this story if you let me go.” She knew how pathetic it sounded but her life was worth more than the story. There would be another one. “Keep the laptop.”

Oliver was right. If she was dead, there was no Pulitzer Prize and no proving to her father she was worthy of his love. Heck, if she wasn’t enough as she was, then perhaps he didn’t deserve her ?

Oliver had seen her worth.

Hell, he’d fought to keep her off the story because he cared about her. She didn’t know how he was connected and maybe she would never find out. If she got out of here alive, she would make sure Sage was safe and one day ask Ari about Oliver.

When her heart was less shattered.

Suddenly the man with her laptop slammed his hands down and hurled the device across the room.

“It’s fucking wiped.” He whirled to her. “You knew this was going to happen. Fucking bitch.”

She recoiled from him, pressing into the sofa. “What? I, no, I didn’t.”

Okay, even to her ears, she sounded like a liar.

The man, who was clearly the leader, slowly pulled out his pistol. He pointed it across the space between them and unclicked the safety. “You have five seconds to tell me if we have just set off a tracker.”

Four.

Three.

Two.

“Two seconds,” he said as she gulped.

Piper’s eyes darted around the room. It was her only hope of being saved. Yet...

“Yes.”

He clicked the safety and put his gun back in his waistband. “Tape up her big mouth and throw her in the truck. We’re moving.”

Damn it.

As someone lifted her to her feet, she spotted a name on a notepad and memorized it. It may or may not mean something. Hopefully she lived to investigate it, or at least tell someone who may be able to do something about it.

It would keep her mind off the gaping hole in her chest, knowing she would never see Oliver again.

God, had she been falling in love with him?

The sound of tape ripping filled the air, and then it was slapped over her mouth. Her heart pounded. She wasn’t a great nose breather, but these men didn’t care.

She had no idea why they were keeping her alive.

“When is pickup?” someone asked.

“Ten o’clock.”

Pickup? Of what?

“Thank God. If that laptop of hers brings this operation down, I’ll slit her throat myself.”

Someone was picking her up?

Piper began to kick and wriggle against the man holding her, even though she knew it was useless.

If only she had listened to Oliver.

Tears prickled at her eyes.

She was going to die.

She knew it.