“Here’s the bitch, boss.”
She glared up at the thug then around her as she sensed movement. Her breath left her in a whoosh as she saw her father tied to a chair at the other end of the rectangular container. His head was drooped forward, and blood splattered his dirty wife-beater.
She bit back a cry of horror. Of fear. She didn’t know if he’d passed out from pain or too much alcohol. She couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.
“Now, Marcus, is that any way to treat a lady?”
Two men stood on either side of her father. One was enormous. Even bigger than Carrick with meaty fists and a hard, cold face. Not cold like Jardin; this man was dead inside. On the other side, stood a slimmer built man. He wore a charcoal suit with a white shirt. His hair was slicked back.
Sleazy. Nasty. He stepped forward with an oily smile meant to lure you in. Only she knew better. He held out his hand to her. She wanted to spit at him. She wanted to hurt him.
You have to be smart about this, Thea.
False bravado was going to be her downfall. She could be feisty. She did things without thinking through the consequences.
She stared at his hand. She really didn’t want to touch him.
“Maybe you need to hire a higher class of thug,” she suggested as she forced herself to reach up, to let his hand clasp hers. A shudder rushed through her she hoped he didn’t see. But from the way the smile on his face grew she thought he did.
He helped her up. She had to force herself to stand there when he didn’t immediately let go. Instead, his gaze roamed her body, studying every part of her until she felt like she needed to scrub her skin clean.
And even then, she wasn’t sure there was enough soap in the world to feel completely clean again.
This man oozed menace, danger, and pain. And not in a sexy way. No, in a completely creepy, downright terrifying way.
“Hello, Thea. I’m Derrick Silvers. It’s so nice of you to join us.”
“Wasn’t aware I had a choice.”
His hand tightened on hers. Thank God it was her uninjured one. Although, if he tightened his hold any further, it wasn’t going to stay that way.
“When someone holds a gun on me, I’m kind of inclined to do what they want. I’m weird like that.”
No, what was weird was her inability to stop spewing shit.
Shut. Up. Thea.
His gaze narrowed, and she stopped breathing.
Then his hold lightened. And he laughed. “Got a mouth on her, doesn’t she?”
“Want me to beat it out of her, boss?” Marcus asked.
The meathead standing by her father hadn’t said a word yet. He just watched everything calmly.
Moving so fast it shocked her, Silvers let go of her and stepped in front of her to slap his hand against the side of Marcus’s face. “No, I don’t want you to beat her, you dickhead. We don’t beat women.”
“We don’t?” he said, dumbfounded. Obviously, it was something he’d done in the past. She shuddered.
“We don’t. Thea is here as our guest.” He turned back to her, straightening the lapels of his jacket. “So sorry about that.”
“I hear it’s hard to get good goons nowadays.”
The boss stared at her for a long moment then laughed again. It didn’t sound natural. Did he practice that creepy sound in the mirror each morning? The nausea in her stomach bubbled. Marcus laughed along, although the sound was more hesitant, as though he didn’t understand what was so funny.
“Ah, Thea, you’re not at all what I expected.”
“You’re not what I expected either.”