Dean’s entire body goes stiff and he mutters, “Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”
Then he hurries off. Okay, that wasn’t exactly how this was meant to go. I get up and follow him down the dark hall toward the bathroom. I round a corner, where a door swings open and a hand curls around my arm, hauling me into a dark space. The door clicks shut and locks. “Let me go!” I hiss.
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
Dean.
Shit.
“What are you talking about, I’m just using the bathroom.”
“Who sent you here? Was it the cops?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I cry, squirming.
He slaps me so hard, I see stars. I kick out but because I can’t see him, I miss completely. Before I can reach around for my gun, I feel the barrel of one pressed to my forehead. I freeze and suck in a deep breath. He flicks on a small light and I see he’s got a knife swinging around in his other hand. This is not good.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I—” I need to play this up, so I burst into tears. “I was just trying to get home. He was my b-b-b-b-boyfriend. He left me on the side of the road.”
“You’re lying!” he bellows, shoving the gun harder against my forehead.
“I’m not!” I scream.
Where are York’s men and why haven’t they barged in here by now?
“Scream again, and I’ll blow your brains out. Tell me who you really are.”
“My name is Suzanne,” I sob. “I’m just trying to get home.”
“I don’t believe you,” he hisses. “Now, tell me who you’re working for?”
“I swear,” I whisper.
“Shut up and tell me who the fuck sent you in here?”
“No one, I swear.”
He growls. “Fine, then you’re going to come with me.”
He shifts me around and then opens another door; only it isn’t the one we came through. He shoves me out and we enter a secluded room that’s not in the bar. I don’t understand. I stare at the door, and then back at the room. Dean laughs and shoves the gun into my back, pushing me forward. “Confused?” he chuckles. “It’s a two-door hall. It’s there so no one knows this room is here. And guess what, sweetheart? Only I have the key.”
Crap.
“So as far as anyone knows, you went to the bathroom, but you ain’t comin’ back.”
God. York’s men are probably looking for me, but they’re not going to find me. This room is obviously still connected to the bar, I can only hope they’re covering all the exits. Dean pushes me toward another door. I want to reach for my gun or fight him, but it’s too risky. He’s got two weapons, even if I manage to tackle him, I’m outgunned. I just have to pray York comes to the rescue.
We step into a garage and I see a large SUV sitting right in the middle. Dean reaches into his pocket and I don’t think, I spin and kick out at his shin. He stumbles backwards, cursing loudly. I lunge at him and my fist flies out to connect with his jaw. He bellows in pain and his other hand comes up and tangles in my hair. He tugs me down hard and I scream, trying to reach out for my gun.
Then something plunges into my neck, and my feet go out from beneath me.
With that, my world goes black.
Chapter Twenty-six
I come to with a pounding head.
It takes me a few minutes to blink and get my bearings, that’s when I realize I’m in a poorly lit room that is definitely not York’s. Shit. This is bad; this is really, really bad. I quickly pat myself down and notice all the wires are gone and so is my gun and phone. Oh no, no no no. This is not good. I didn’t even get a damned confession and now I’m stuck here. He’s probably going to kill me and get away with everything.
Just magic.
“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”
I jerk at the sound of that voice. No. Fucking. Way. I whip my head around to see Raide leaning against the wall, staring at me with a hard expression. He’s battered and bloody, and he doesn’t look good at all. His dark shirt is ripped and hanging off his body in tatters. His jeans are bloodied and his hair is a mess. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
“Raide?” I squeak.
“Tell me you’re not here because you went after Dean?”
I look down.
“Jesus, Grace!” he barks.
“Why are you here?” I snap, reaching up and rubbing my temples.
“Found Dean again, only he anticipated that I was coming and got twenty fuckin’ men to beat the shit out of me and drag me in here.”
My eyes soften and I say, “Are you hurt?”
“Do I fuckin’ look hurt?” he mutters.
I purse my lips and give him a truly menacing glare. “No need to be an ass about it.”
He shakes his head. “Now you’re here, too. This is just proving to be my lucky fuckin’ week.”
“I’m here because I was trying to help you,” I cry.
“Real lot of good that did ya.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I see you’re still angry at me.”
“Angry?” he asks. “For what? It couldn’t be for using me, lying to me, betraying me, and trying to get me put away.”