Page 387 of The First Taste

Pushing my fingers against my mouth, I feel ill. Bile hits my tastebuds.

Constantine is the only Cajun I’ve ever dated. Since him, I’ve been completely wigged out by anyone with that specific Southern drawl.

My blood turns to ice. My hands don’t work anymore, so I’m just hovering by a stack of crates, unable to move so much as a muscle.

“Oui, monsieur. I will check personally,” comes a faraway reply. “Don’t worry, we will find her.”

“Be on the lookout for Hades. I showed you his picture, right?” A pause. “I’m not sure where he is. I haven’t been able to track him down.”

I move closer to the doorway, trying to see Constantine. Two men move slowly through the store. The stockier sandy-haired man is a stranger to me, but I glimpse just a fragment of tall, blond Constantine.

He looks the same as ever, stalking down the rows, a permanent sneer on his lips. He cocks his head as he looks around, dissatisfied.

“Watch out for him. He’s apt to put up a real fight if we find him. You’d better hope to hell you see him first and fire a lucky shot off. The motherfucker has the best damned aim I’ve ever seen east of Texas.”

I clench my fists, ducking back into the protection of the hallway, and pray.

Please, god.

Please make him leave.

“All right. I say we head next door.” When I hear him again, his voice is moving toward the front door. “We got to get her before that bastard Hades realizes she’s missing.”

I tense up so much that the tray I’m holding buckles, spilling pill bottles everywhere. The pills rattle as the bottles fall to the ground, bouncing awkwardly, alerting everyone who has ears to my clumsiness.

I hear Constantine’s sharp voice. “What was that?”

A murmured response. “I’ll check it out.”

I dart my gaze around the small back hallway I’m standing in. Other than the two bathrooms, there’s a third doorway…. and a door labeled SORTIE in bold red letters. I hurry to the door, pushing the bar across the middle. But it doesn’t open. I try desperately to push against it several times before my brain catches up with reality. The door is stuck, somehow.

I flatten my back against the door. My purse hits the door with a thud and its heaviness reminds me of what I brought for protection.

A sleek black handgun.

I reach into the purse and wrap my hands around the grip of the gun. Shaking, pulse pounding a million miles an hour, I point the gun at the doorway leading into the store.

A second later, the man’s blond head peeks in the back hallway. I grimace at him and point the gun at his face, stepping sideways. His eyes widen as he takes me in.

“Go,” I hiss. “Just leave.”

A calculating look crosses his face. “I cannot do that,mademoiselle. You must come with me.”

“Like hell.” I can feel the sheen of sweat as it breaks out across my brow. Glaring at the man, I think about firing a warning shot into the wall. My teeth chatter as I grip the gun harder. “That man tried to kill me. Do you understand? I’m not going to go anywhere with either of you.”

“Mademoiselle—”he says. “Be reasonable…”

At that very moment, the door behind my back is yanked open. My eyes widen as I lose my footing. I am grabbed around the waist by strong, unseen arms. The blond man edges out from behind the wall, approaching with a determined look on his face.

A sharp scream escapes my lips. The arms that grip me pull tighter, wrapping around my body. I can feel something sharp and cold pressing in against my ribs.

My brain going into overdrive, naming the cold object a knife. I panic, flailing. The gun goes off in my hands, shooting the blond man in the chest.

The man behind me grunts and jabs me in the ribs with his knife. Pain shoots through my entire body but I’m too wrapped up in breaking the man’s hold to focus on it. I make my body as pointy as possible, driving my elbows back into the man’s solid core with swift force.

He makes a soft noise of pain and for just the barest second, his hands relax. I stomp my high heeled feet down onto his booted ones as I twist away from him.

“Pute,” he growls. He tries to hold me, his knife slicing into my ribs and then my right wrist as I kick and punch my way to freedom.