Run.

  I recognize this situation. The last time I saw an open trunk they pushed me inside of it. Goodbye life and hello to the worst months of my life.

  “I thought I recognized you.”

  The man’s voice is low and unhurried.

  My knees lock. Chills erupt over my skin. Light from a single bulb catches on the shine of sharkskin. The glow of a cigarette pulls my attention to his face. Shadows cling to his features but I don’t need to see into his eyes to know he’s got evil stamped on his soul.

  The runner.

  Fuck. Me.

  My stomach drops into the muck of snow at my feet.

  I back peddle and try to go back into Genesis the way I came out but the metal door has no handle. I ball a fist and hammer on it, but nada. I wave my arms at the red light of the security camera but I don’t know if anyone is watching the rear kitchen exit.

  Plan A isn’t working and didn’t this douche have a friend?

  Plan B. The alley way opens on both ends. Chances of me getting to the end of the alley before this one catches up to me are… I look at the stilettos Polaris lent me to match the skirt. Last night’s girl’s night might end up killing me. These glitter black pumps are nice for work, but killers on slick pavement. My odds tumble before I can take my first step.

  Think Bailey. “Keep the fuck away from me. Harlon is watching. You think he lets the contract girl out of his sight for long?” I keep my eyes on Sharkskin while I put some distance between us. His friend has to be here somewhere.

  “Where you think you’re going?”

  I back into a solid wall of muscle and nearly topple forward to eat dirty snow.

  Sharkskin’s friend. Found him.

  I pivot, I throw my hands up, but I’m not fast enough to move out of reach before he can lock fingers over the top of my shoulder. I shake off his punishing grip and shuffle to the side.

  “Get your hands off me!” I seethe viciously. There’s no going back inside and I’m not getting in that trunk. My heart races. Blood rushes through my veins. I can’t fight off both of them, but I can make them work for whatever shitty ending they want to give me.

  I reach for my knife and slash the air in front of me, moving myself to where I can keep both runners in my line of sight.

  Sharkskin joins his friend and passes a lit cigarette as they watch me through slitted eyes. “Come on, let’s talk. We don’t wanna hurt you.”

  They come closer. “Then what’s the gun in your hand for?”

  The one on the right shrugs. “Security.” He takes a step in my direction and I retreat with one in the opposite direction.

  He levels the barrel of a revolver that looks too big for his hand and I forget to breathe for several seconds.

  “Get in the trunk, Bailey.” He waves the gun toward the idling car.

  “You will have to put me in there yourself or shoot me,” I say with bravado I don’t feel. My knees knock any louder and it will sound like a marching parade going by.

  I should play along with their game of innocence. I can let them draw close and once they are within reach, I can stab the stronger one. It might give me an opening to get away before the smaller one shoves me in the trunk.

  “Why can’t you just make this easy?” Sharkskin rushes me, grabs me around the middle and my knife drops into the snow.

  “You thought some brown hair and colored contacts would hide your face. You got D’Angelo written all over you and it’s going to pay off for us.”

  I ball my fist and slam them into his back. He doesn’t even grunt. Knees and elbows join in on the fight but he’s used to his prey fighting back. “Harlon will look for me soon, you son-of-a-bitch! You don’t want to do this!”

  He shrugs off my warning.

  “How much do you think we can get for her if we send pieces of her to dear old daddy, man? More than with Mount?” The smaller one pulls out another cancer stick and lights up using the fading cherry on the old cigarette.

  “More than what the contract offers, for sure.”

  Sharkskin stubs out his cigarette underfoot and shifts me over his shoulder. His aura pulsates with choking energy feeding into the night straight from Hell.

  Both men talk like I’m a piece of meat to be butchered up and sold to the highest bidder.

  Please, God. Help me. I don’t think I can fight the two of them. My heart thumps against my ribs. My teeth clench and my lips curl into a snarl. I slip my leg into a position that lines me up with his ribs and I nail him hard.

  He grunts, pauses but doesn’t let me fall.

  “You’re going to pay for that, bitch!”

  I do it again and this time I drive my knee into his sternum, earning me a quick trip to the hard, cold pavement. I roll, shuffle to my feet and make a break for the far side of the alleyway.

  Sharkskin lunges for me, grabbing my puffy jacket instead of me. I think I’m home free, but he’s fast and catches me by the hair. In the next second I'm falling. He fists my hair and starts dragging me toward the trunk. His friend grabs for my feet but I land the spike in his face. He pierces his cheek, and he wails with pain.

  The cock of a hammer hits my ears.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Muzzle flashes go off and the flare of deadly light is nothing compared to the crack of a bullet firing off.

  I roll and shove to my feet, checking for bullet holes on the way up.

  No blood and I’m not falling over in pain.

  “Oh my God! What the fuck kind of nightmare is this?” Every muscle in my body wants to bolt for the main drag where there are more people, but the fear gripping me refuses to let me move. I’m frozen in place and it has nothing to do with the cold Chicago night.

  Two bodies drop in front of me. One second they have my murder written on their to-do list and the next they are meeting the devil for a face to face.

  All the malice crunching their expressions into sneers releases. It’s eerie how they look as if they’ve simply fallen asleep. Except for the crimson of their life force pooling around their torsos.

  Sweat gathers at the nape of my neck and across my palms despite the snow.

  I look up to see three men walking up the alley, guns smoking.

  Since I have the shittiest luck there is, instead of two, I now have three runners stalking toward me. It seems fate wants to put me in a maze and make me work to save my life. If that isn’t a Christmas story in the making, I don't know what is. Fifteen minutes ago I wanted death and now here I am hoping I get another chance at seeing my father and apologizing for the grief I put him through.

  They get as close as the dumpster when my brain clicks back on. I rush toward the opposite end of the alley, slip on ice and barely keep from falling when one of them calls after me.

  “Bailey D’Angelo.”

  The husk of a deep voice reaches out to me and pulls me to an abrupt stop. It curls around my senses and forces me to pay attention to every detail. Like the fact I recognize that voice.

  The kind of chills that rushes over me now consists of two parts fear and one part lust. How messed up is that?

  I look over my shoulder, knocking my hair out of my face. “Are you asking or telling?” All I want to do is get out of this death trap. But my stupid choice of footwear is going to do me in. Running isn’t an option.

  I grab at my heels, trying to break the strap holding them in place. Frozen fingers and copious amounts of adrenaline jacking my bloodstream does not make this easy.

  There’s a thud of multiple footsteps forcing me to give up on trying to pull my shoes off.

  “Telling,” comes the voice again and this time he gets one hundred percent of my attention.

  I do an one-eighty and look the killers in the eye to find my unfailing memory has once again not failed me.

  “Darius Denatti.”

  I shove a steel beam into my spine and hold my head high. It will serve them right to have my haunting face stuck in their memories as I bleed out because theirs will be in mine for damn sure.

  “Where are you running to, Bailey?”

  I take in my surroundings with a quick glance. Two bodies in front of me, the club at my back. They are to my left and the opposite end of the alleyway is to my right. But again. My shoes would be the death of me.

  I lock my feet in place and ball my fists. On the outside they look like animals bred for using their teeth. But so was I. She’s just buried under a mountain of self doubt. Society 69 didn’t break me, but they came close. The fighter I used to be is inside me. I just need to kick her awake.

  Until she comes to, I fake it.

  I lift a shoulder with a faux show of indifference. “Nowhere now. I have a better question. Who sent you? Mount? Are you three working for him now? Did he stomp your kingdom into the dirt and make you three his bitches?” I raise my chin and lock my eyes on theirs. I see no reason to dance around the obvious. I mean, I can run. But with my luck I will kill myself on a patch of ice and I’m not about to do their dirty work for them.

  Their dark chuckles send chills up the length of my spine.

  Expensive suits cling to broad shoulders, thick but well trimmed waists and impressive thighs. None of them skip leg day at the gym. All that fine material does a magnificent job in highlighting the contours of defined muscle as they prowl across the dirty alleyway like beasts. Everything else about them isn’t as polished. Wind-tousled hair, scruffy jawlines and wildness in their eyes tells me everything I need to know about them in one glance—they were bred to kill.

  The second my eyes connect with each of theirs I find the truth staring back at me. Death has a grip on their tainted souls. Proof shimmers in their dark auras and that icy touch is ready to reach out and take me.

  Not today Satan.

  “Look at you playing at being so brave. It’s going to be fun breaking you.”

  “You’re too late. The best of the best have already tried, and they lost.” My smile is murderous.

  “That so?” drawls Darius in an unhurried retort that has his forehead scrunching and thick black brows pulling together. “Who would that be?” His tone morphs from curious to deathly cold. Like he will kill the man I name.

  I don’t answer. I don’t owe anyone an explanation of what I’ve been through and I don’t for a second believe this man means to protect my honor.

  “I can scream and beg for you to just let me leave here and pretend you never saw me, but that isn’t happening, is it?”

  Their long strides place them within arm’s reach. Darius glances at his two friends standing on either side of him. “I think you know the answer to that.”

  He is the leader of the pack of charming beasts. He smiles at me and wow. It’s not fair how handsome he is or that the men at his sides permeate this unmistakable aura of sensuality and danger in equal amounts. It’s a heady concoction that warps my better judgment. And it’s not the first time I’ve experienced their allure albeit from afar.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so. I guess you have to do as you’re ordered, right?” I quip not feeling the least bit humorous. “Are you after the ten million? Gotta be. That hard up for cash, huh?” I nail Darius with a hard, narrow-eyed look cold enough to cut diamonds.

  Darius puts his handsome face in front of mine and when he exhales through his nostrils, I actually swallow down the lump of fear clogging my throat.

  “I never thought you three would roll over for Mount senior.”

  My mouth keeps running with insult after insult when my brain is telling it to shut the fuck up already. A sense of danger lingers on the fringes of my consciousness. Goosebumps flush across my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck stand—all signs a predator is nearby.

  “Nothing to say?” Fear and spunk work in tandem against me. I never was good at being placed with my back against a wall. Literally and figuratively. The closer they get the fewer my options are for running.

  “You have a smart mouth for a woman who is in a dangerous position.”

  Augustine stands to the left of Darius. I swear they look conjoined. You never find one without the other. I know because I remember every damn thing I see and hear.

  I raise my gaze to meet the eyes of a known assassin. “He finally speaks.”

  When I thought I would take over for my father, I learned everything I had to about the people who would one day want me dead. It didn’t take long. The list is made up of two families—the Mounts and Denattis.

  Augustine’s reputation for having a one hundred percent kill rate for the Denatti family put him at the top of my watch list.

  “Augustine is more of a doer than a talker.”

  I turn to look at the one on my right who wears a smirk like it’s a weapon of choice. His name is Victor. Vi for short. He’s second only to Augustine and is glued to Darius’ other shoulder.

  “You’ll learn that and a lot more before the night is up, sweetheart.” Victor strokes the back of his fingers across my cheek. “But you’re not scared are you, little one?”

  I jerk away from him but I can’t go far with them standings so close.

  “No,” I lie smoothly.

  Augustine wraps my loose hair around his hand and lifts it to his nose. “Nah, she’s not scared, Vi. But she is going to earn everything we are about to put her through.”

  Gulp.

  “I'm going to leave you three here and—” I get half a step before Darius takes my shoulders in hand and places my back against the outside of Club Genesis.

  “And nothing,” he finishes for me.

  A wall of heat engulfs me. On the plus side, I’m no longer shivering from the cold. On the downside, I’m not getting away unless a miracle happens.

  My hands come up and with no other place to put them but Darius’ chest, I let them fall. Hard. And then I shove with all my force. As I suspected he doesn’t flinch nor move. The brute only growls like he wants more of me struggling.

  The killers have their beasts tightly reigned inside or I would already be dead in the snow. I can practically hear the chains rattle. One break of a weak link and I’m their next meal.

  I struggle to keep the tremble out of my voice so my teeth don’t chatter as I speak. “Look, what will it take for you to back out of here, let me go my way and you go yours?”

  A growl hits low in their throats.

  “Bailey D’Angelo, what the hell makes you think we’re going anywhere without you?”

  Victor’s light brown eyes draw closer as he leans in and runs his lips up the side of my neck.

  “Stop, that,” I utter weakly.

  “No,” Victor rumbles with a dark chuckle against my pulse point. I shudder and fuck if I don’t turn my head a fraction to give him better access.

  “I won’t talk,” I try again, but every time I breathe in it is their male scent attacking my ability to think straight. All those fantasies I had for these men so long ago roar back to life in full color and with all the heat that had me screaming into my pillows on more than one occasion.

  Darius reaches for my chin. “You’re going to talk tonight. I’ll bet money on it.” The man’s voice is made of black vodka and poured over ice—dark and chilled.

  I shove at Darius’ hand. Hair falls over his forehead and if he was gorgeous before he’s now hot enough to leave me panting in the middle of a snowstorm now. He brushes the long strands of his hair aside, drawing my eye to the ink up the inside of his forearm. Skulls, snakes and roses all twine up his forearm. But I can’t see past the rolled-up sleeve. Who goes out in the middle of winter with no coats, shirts undone, ties discarded and their sleeves halfway up their arms?

  Beasts my voice answers for me.

  Touché

  My brain does a rapid assessment of what I know about them.

  Trackers, assassins. Armed. Dangerous to everyone unlucky enough to cross their paths. And not runners for Club Genesis as far as I know.

  Another fact that stands out is that they haven’t killed me yet. I take a calming breath, but I don’t dare let my guard down.

  “I know your names. But how do you know mine and how did you recognize me?”

  “We’ve known who you are since the day you were born for the same reason you know ours, I bet.”

  That is Augustine. He’s been quiet, watchful.

  “We know your date of birth,” Victor says as he towers over me.

  “We know your past and your future,” Darius offers like some oracle pulled through time, as he plays with my hair.

  I huff out a cloud of vapor. “I thought the three fates were women. Do you know if this is where I die? If so, can we get on with it?”

  Darius has a somber look about him and then he slowly smiles. I can’t imagine it is something he does often. Not that it looks forced, but there's a seriousness about him that gives me the impression he doesn’t have much to smile about.

  He reaches for my face and twirls his fingers around the gentle slope of my chin.

  “We finally found you. It’s by a stroke of luck we got here in time.” Victor places a hand on the brick exterior of the club and leans in to run his nose up the side of my face, inhaling deeply. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. Now that I have your scent you’ll never get away from me. I look forward to getting you inside where we can…talk.”

  He means off me slowly and painfully without witnesses. I know code talk when I hear it.

  “We have little time before someone else tries to collect on the contract again. We got lucky once, let’s not push our luck. Let’s go.”

  Darius takes my hand and drags me forward, making my shoes drop from my feet. I fall into his arms and he lifts me easily against his chest cutting off all options of running.

  I turn, our lips nearly touching but the power in Darius’ gaze holds me captive. “We killed for you once, I don’t want to leave more bodies if we don’t have to.”

  Dark brown eyes meet my fake brown ones. “I’m not thanking you for killing those two so you can collect on my contract instead.”