He strides across the room and flips on a set of overhead track lights, the sudden flare of the bulbs making my eyes water. I squint to keep him in focus as he sets his iPhone on a tripod and aims it at me.
“Smile for the camera, love.” His lips twist in a cruel grin and I wonder for the thousandth time how I missed it — the sociopathic gleam in his eyes, the dark edge to his charm. How could I have been so blind?
Oh, right.
The accent. The dimples. The muscles. And dear god, the way he fills out a pair of dress pants…
Frankly, I never stood a chance.
“Come on, Phoebe. You can do better than that.” His eyes narrow. “Daddy will be wanting an update on his darling daughter’s safety.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, glaring at him.
“That can be arranged,” he volleys back flatly, the threat sending a cold tingle down my spine.
“You won’t get away with this… This… whatever you’re planning.” My words sound remarkably steady, considering my insides have dissolved into jelly. “He’ll never pay the ransom.”
“He’ll pay with his money or you’ll pay with your life. ” He leans toward me, face dark with anger, those stunning eyes narrowed on my wide hazel ones. “Either way, the Wests are going to fucking pay.”
My throat convulses.
I’m totally going to die a virgin.
I steady my shoulders and force my face into a sneer, praying none of my fear shines through the thin mask of bravado. “You’re an idiot. You really think you’ll get away with this? The cops are going to be all over your ass.” I narrow my eyes at him. “And I have a feeling your cellmate at Walpole is going to be all over it, too.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“You think you can just kidnap someone and get away with it? Seriously? Have you never seen CSI?” I snort.
“I saidshut up.”
“People know I was out with you,” I can’t help but point out. “Are you on crack, or something? Seriously, I’ve heard that shit really messes with executive functions—”
He moves so fast, I never see his fist coming. Suddenly it’s justthere, cracking against my right eye socket so hard my head snaps back like a Pez dispenser. For a few sluggish seconds I stare up at the ceiling, waiting for the bright spots to clear out of my vision.
He hit me.
He actuallyhitme.
Holy fucking shit. If Parker finds out, there’ll be hell to pay. IfNatefinds out…
They’ll never even find the body.
“Bitch,” Cormack spits, grabbing my chin and pulling my eyes up to meet his furious blue-green ones. With his other hand, he grabs the thin gold chain around my neck and snaps it off my neck in one sharp tug.
I cry out from both the pain of the necklace cutting into my skin and the horror of my most treasured piece of jewelry being destroyed with one careless snap of the wrist.
He’s still gripping my face. My eyes water helplessly as he swings the sunshine pendant in front of them like a metronome. “Maybe I’ll keep this as a memento. Or maybe I’ll send it to Milo as a reminder of you, wrapped up with one of your severed fingers in a pretty little box…”
“I’m going to kill you,” I yell, thrashing against his hold, tugging at my bonds.
He laughs as though he finds me hilarious. Leaning close again, he repositions the newspaper in my hands.
“Sit still, hold the paper, and keep your mouth shut until I say otherwise. Your father owes my boss a fuckuva lot of money. If he gives a shit about you, he’s going to pay up. And if you’re counting on the police bursting in to save the day — don’t. Your father is a smart man. He knows if he calls them, you’ll never get out of this basement alive.”
A shiver moves through me, at that. When he feels it, he smiles.
“Good. You’re scared. You should be.” His voice drops lower. I can feel his breath on my lips, stale and too warm. “The BPD knows better than to interfere with Bunker Hill’s business. Your father is barking up the wrong fucking tree with his plans to gentrify our town without Mac’s go-ahead.”