one came along? Or would he want me to be one of the girls at the fights, with politicians snorting coke off my breasts and big shots groping me?
I wanted to swear he wouldn’t, but a lifetime of betrayal and heartache had taught me to never trust anyone.
And that definitely included slimy, shady, wannabe gangsters like Mugsy.
I tried once more to free my arm from his hold, but his grip was ironclad. So I screamed as loud as I could. “Help! Someone help!”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” He shook me so hard, I thought my neck would snap.
I got away from Marco that first night. I dodged Cole and locked him in a room.
I will not be taken down by Mugsy Carmichael.
Thrashing, I screamed bloody murder.
Smack!
Burning pain radiated across my cheek where he’d hit me.
His face was red as a tomato when he did it again. Violently yanking me closer with one hand, he used the other to hit me a third time. His stupid, gaudy ring caught my lip, tearing it open.
I wasn’t sure what came over me, but at the metallic taste and the hot drops of blood sliding down my chin, I smiled.
No, I grinned.
“He’s going to hunt you down,” I said matter-of-factly. “He’ll never stop. And when he catches you, he’ll make sure your death is slow and painful.”
All color drained from Mugsy’s face, but he puffed out his chest and blustered, “He won’t be able to get to me. But while he’s trying, they’ll pass you around like the whore you are. He won’t even want you when they’re done.” His immense sweating turned into a waterfall down his jowled face as he pulled a gun. “Out of respect for your father, I said I’d get you to come on your own, but you’re as greedy and money hungry as the rest. I should’ve let them have you.”
When Maximo is done with him, he’ll wish he had.
Jabbing the gun into my side, Mugsy smirked triumphantly. He began down the path, clearly expecting me to follow.
I didn’t.
For whatever reason, someone wanted me. Whoever they were, they likely wanted me alive.
Which meant Mugsy wasn’t going to shoot me. And if he did? Well, death was better than being passed around.
Calling his bluff, I screamed. I kicked. I swung my arms windmill style, hoping to connect.
I made so much damn noise, someone had to hear me.
Mugsy caught my ponytail in his sweaty palm, yanking hard enough to make my eyes water, but I kept going.
Even when he smacked me.
Even when he hit me in the eye with the butt of his gun.
Even when he made revolting threats that caused bile to rise from my churning stomach to lodge in my throat.
I was not going to be a victim. I’d die before that happened.
And I’d take that asshole with me.
Summoning every bit of will and energy and fury I had, I stopped fighting. I froze. Through blurry, already swelling eyes, I watched Mugsy’s body relax with exhaustion and victory. Thinking he’d won, he let his guard down.
And that was when I attacked.
I threw my weight at him, catching him by surprise and knocking us both to the sidewalk. His head slammed against the unforgiving concrete, and he lost hold of his gun, the metal skittering up the path.
He tried to roll, but between me and his own gut, he was a turtle stuck on his back. “Fuck! Get off me, cunt!”
My fists rained down. My nails dug in.
I’ll never be a victim again.
I’m not a little girl getting slapped around. I’m not small and defenseless against trained punches.
I’m not taking a knife for that bastard.
I decide who touches me. I decide my life.
Not a victim.
Not a victim.
“I’m not your damn victim anymore, Dad!” I screeched, blood and spittle spraying.
“You’re fucking crazy, bitch,” Shamus shouted back.
But it wasn’t Shamus, of course.
Shamus was dead.
Maximo killed him.
Just like he was going to kill Mugsy.
Mugsy shoved me off him, and I rolled to the side. I braced for an onslaught of kicks or for him to pull me by my hair, but he was wheezing as he struggled to stand.
I was faster to find my footing. With him prone, I could’ve been the one to deliver the onslaught of kicks. As badly as I wanted to, I had an opening, and I was taking it.
Vengeance and violence could wait.
Running as fast as I could, I raced back to the door. I pulled and pulled but it was locked.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Maybe I could make