band around my wrists. A smile lights up Del’s eyes, and I’m not sure this guy has ever looked me in the eye, or knew I existed when he was at Marymount, but he sure knows now.
His eyes trail down and then back up my body, and it hits me that I’m in my underwear. Panties and a little corset, my dress on the floor of the limo.
“What a waste,” he gripes.
And his hands spread over my stomach, sliding to my back, and I fight, hollering until my throat is raw.
And then, all of a sudden, teeth sink into my ass, and I whip around. I kick Milo, not giving him time to fight back before I throw myself on top of him, both of us falling to the ground and my knee slamming into his groin.
“Ah!” he bellows.
I growl, he yanks my hair, pulling my head back, and then someone pushes me off him, and I land on the driveway on my back.
I bolt up, but Callum is there, pinning me down. He places a vial in front of my face. “You wanna remember this?”
I still, my breath hitching for a moment.
I look at the drug and then back to him, my fingers smashed and hurting behind me. He said he didn’t drug people. Would he really use that on me?
I swallow hard, nodding. If he forces that down my throat, I’ll be unconscious. I won’t be able to fight back, run, give a positive I.D.…
He doesn’t want to give it to me. He wants a willing girl. He wants what he thinks we agreed to.
But he’ll take it if he has to.
Motherfucker.
“I doubt I’ll remember it anyway,” I spit out, putting forth what pathetic fight I have left.
He simply chuckles, challenge accepted, and hauls me off the ground.
“Take her.” He shoves me to Milo, who’s rougher as he fists my hair and squeezes my arm.
They lead me inside the dark building, and I spot paintings on the walls in gilded frames and smell all the wood polish and leather furniture. They push me through a sitting area, tables and couches and a bar gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the windows, and after a moment, we’re in a hallway.
My knees shake a little, and I feel tears threaten. I drop my eyes. Please. God, please. I don’t want anyone to hurt me. Please.
I want my dad. I want Macon.
No one can touch me but Clay. This isn’t happening. I’m still in the limo. I’m with her.
In her arms.
A sob escapes, but I push it down, burying it, and grit my teeth.
Fuck him for this. I’m going to kill him.
“There are witnesses,” I say, keeping my tone calm. “There were cameras on the streets.”
“You’ll go home in one piece,” Callum replies. “We had an agreement. I want what you promised.”
I spin around, getting in his face. “I never promised.”
But he just growls in a low voice, “Walk. Walk and pay up, and this won’t have to escalate. I know how to hurt you without laying a hand on you.”
Milo pulls me back around, shoving me head first through a door. He grips me hard, holding me as I stumble down some stairs, another hallway, and into a room.
I smell water. Is this a basement? Those aren’t common in Florida.
I spot a few more bodies in the room and instantly stop, dread coiling its way through my gut.
Two other men wait in the room, and a young woman leans against the back wall. Next to the pool table.
She cocks her head, taking me in, and I know that she’s for me.
Petite, blonde, blue eyes…like Clay.
But not Clay.
Walking over, she smiles gently, her long, smooth hair falling over her left eye just a little, and her full red lips open to perfect, white teeth. She’s dressed conservatively in tight black pants and a short-sleeved, tight black T-shirt, and I don’t think she’s more than a year or two older than me. Beautiful, young, soft...
But then she drops her gaze, noticing my arms behind my back. “Why is she tied up?” she asks.
Callum comes around to my front and looks between the girl and me. “This is Morgan,” he tells me, ignoring her question. “Your date.”
Her finger slips inside the hem of my panties, and I fire up. Shooting out my foot, I kick her in the stomach. “Ugh!”
She yelps, stumbling backward, and I steel every muscle, preparing.
“What the hell?” she blurts out, holding her middle and glaring at Callum. “You didn’t