Hell.
Distantly, he heard what sounded like the front door being kicked in.
“That’s my partner,” the jerk told him. “He’s gonna come in here and kick your ass!”
“I’m shaking.” Nope. Not even a little. Constantine wasn’t. He had nerves of steel. The bastard hadn’t dropped his gun, so maybe he had a few nerves, too. Time to break those nerves.Break him.“Where do you want me to shoot you? The dick or the heart?”
“What?”The man blanched in horror.
“Dick, it is.”
“No! No!” He dropped the gun.Fast.
That was the usual response to that particular question. Constantine had asked the same question three times, and always, that was the answer.
Constantine collected the gun and shoved it into the back waistband of his jeans. And he smiled. “Lift up your hands.” A creep like him—a hired thug—would have more weapons. Maybe a knife. Maybe another gun.
“My partner is gonna shoot you,” the man snarled. “Inyourdick—”
“Doubtful.” Constantine did a swift pat down and relieved the jerk oftwoknives and one phone. “Mypartner probably already has him either unconscious or begging for mercy.”
“Your…your partner?”
“Um.” The other room had gone deadly quiet. “How about we go join their party, shall we?” He got behind the thug and shoved him forward.
***
How long was she supposed to stay behind the couch?
Jacqueline’s hands pressed to the wooden floor. She had rolled over and positioned her head so that she could see beneath the couch. All that view gave her, though, was a glimpse of feet. Remy’s boot-covered feet. The loafers that his attackerwore. She could also make out shattered chunks of a chair that littered the floor near them.
“I’m not going to be fucking nice to you.”That was Remy’s voice.“I’m going to kick your ass and maybe break your fingers.”
A chill skated over her body. He sounded so—so dangerous. So deadly. When Remy spoke like that, she wanted to believe his words. But, surely, they were a lie. Not like he’d really just casually break someone’s fingers.
“Incoming!” Constantine called out. She heard the pad of his feet. “Hope you patted down your guy, because mine came carrying two wickedly sharp knives. Wonder what he planned to do with those?”
The cold settled even heavier around her body. Men had come after her with guns and knives?
“Which asshole fired the shot?” Remy asked. His voice still held that deadly edge. The one that made him sound like a stranger. A stranger, and not the man who’d sent her tumbling headfirst into the best sex of her life.
In response to Remy’s question, a man’s voice blasted back, “Who the hell are you?”
She didn’t know that voice. Jacqueline wanted to lift her head. She couldn’t crouch there forever. “Is it safe?” she called.
“Safe enough,” Constantine answered. “Just don’t get close to the bastards.”
Right. Like she’d planned to cuddle up with them. Cautiously, Jacqueline shifted position and popped her head from behind the shelter of the couch so she could take in the scene.
Constantine and Remy were both armed. Both held their guns like they’d done this scene a thousand times before. And the scene? It consisted of two men who had been shoved to theirknees a few feet away. The men had their hands pulled behind their bodies. She straightened to her full height as she studied them.
“They’re cuffed and unarmed,” Constantine continued in his clear, unruffled voice. The voice that said all of this was totally normal. Only it wasn’t.
Where had he gotten handcuffs? Had he been carrying them? Had Remy just had cuffs stashed at his cabin?
“But don’t get close to them,” he added.
Again with that warning. Why did he seem to have this obsession with her runningtowardthe men who wanted to hurt her? “Not planning on it.” Jacqueline blew out a heavy breath. She pointed to the man on the right, the one with slightly long, shaggy hair. The man wearing a motorcycle jacket and a glare. “I’ve seen him with Preston a few times. I-I think his name is Nate. He’s supposed to be a security guard.”