“Found her gun. She’s alone,” Melvin answered.
“You hope,” Bailee retorted.
“Oh, we know you’re alone,” Sabra returned smugly. “I told you to come alone, and you aren’t going to do anything to getyour boyfriend killed. Too bad you weren’t as concerned with my daughter’s life as you are with his.”
“You mean, as concerned as you were with Shantayle’s life? You know when Shantayle came to me that night we first met, she told me about you. She came to you first when she found out what T-Loc wanted to do. What was it you said to her? Oh, yeah. It was her fate in life. A rite of passage. You drove her to me that night. Instead of protecting her from T-Loc, you were ready to hand her over. Because if you allowed Shantayle to be pimped out to her father and grandfather’s buddies, it meant you wouldn’t have to anymore. You would be left alone.”
Bailee saw it. Brief as it was, Sabra’s hand gripping the gun trembled. The fire in her eyes lessened. She still regarded Bailee with hatred, but there was something else there. Could it be remorse?
Whatever it was, Melvin must have noticed it too. He moved from behind Bailee to stand beside Sabra. He kept his gun trained on her, but his free hand covered Sabra’s. He pushed her arm down until the gun was at her side. Then he leveled the gun at Bailee’s head.
“On your knees.”
Bailee refrained from uttering another sarcastic comment. The vibe in the room had shifted, and she sensed she lost the upper hand. As long as Sabra was calling the shots, Bailee had a chance of getting in her head.
But with Melvin stepping in, her leverage was shaky at best. She eased down on her knees, settling back on her heels, placing her hands on her knees. That’s when she saw it, out of the corner of her eye. Without being obvious, she flicked her gaze at Easton.
With his hands secured behind him, his arms bent at the elbows. It was a subtle movement, but those elbows flexed forward, much like a butterfly would flap its wings.
Easton was alive and conscious…and he was sending her a signal. She just wished she knew what that signal meant.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Easton hovered on the edge of consciousness and oblivion. The drug his captors had used to subdue him kept him out for the count for a while. He had no way of knowing where he was or how he got there.
They had decided to bring him out of his blackout by punching the shit out of him. He had wakened to discover his hands were tied above his head. He had been stripped down to his boxer briefs. His shoulders ached from supporting his body weight since the tips of his bare feet barely reached the floor.
He was pretty sure by the difficulty he had breathing that he had a broken rib or two to go with his swollen lip, battered eye, and bruises. There wasn’t a part of his body that didn’t scream with pain, but his hatred for his captors numbed him to the hurt.
Melvin had smirked at him when he snapped a picture with a cell phone. Easton’s first thought was he hoped the asshole texted the photo to his brothers. Luke would use it to track him, and then Melvin would get the punishment he deserved. The second thought he had was the realization of where he actually was. He recognized the interior of the building even though he’d been unconscious during the drive.
Marley’s Billiards. Damn, he hadn’t thought of this place in years. The pool hall had been a rough establishment that drewpeople looking for cheap alcohol, lots of wagers on the outcome of pool games, and regular fist fights that started for no apparent reason and always ended with the cops being called. It had been years before the police actually closed the place down, and no one bothered to use the building for anything afterward. He wasn’t even sure who owned it.
Not that the knowledge did him any good. After a few more knife wounds and a few more punches, Melvin cut Easton down, and he collapsed to the floor, groaning at the pain radiating through him. The son of a bitch dragged him to a back room and tossed him onto a chair.
Easton was too weak to fight Melvin, so the man didn’t bother securing his feet. Melvin did zip tie his hands behind his back. Easton had the wherewithal to flex his wrists as Melvin tightened the restraints, making the binding looser and giving him room to break free.
Now he had to wait.
Blackness threatened to consume him, but he fought it. He pretended to be unconscious, but he knew the only chance he had was to stay aware and be ready to make his move. He positioned his head so they would assume he was out cold. He kept his eyes opened only enough for him to observe what was happening.
“How long should we wait?” The woman paced the room, her shaky fingers running through the strands of her hair that fell over her shoulder.
“Long enough to make them sweat. Relax. We’re the ones in control. We’re calling the shots.” Melvin’s tone was low and coaxing as if he was talking to a child.
“This has better work, Clive. I want her to pay. I want her to die.” She stopped in front of him, but her body swayed with nervous energy.
“She will. They both will. I haven’t let you down, and I won’t start now.”
Melvin pulled the woman in for a hug that hinted at a relationship that went beyond boss and client. The embrace didn’t last longer than a few seconds before Melvin pulled away.
“I’m going to check the perimeter. Stay here and keep an eye on him.”
He heard the woman make a noise that was probably meant to be a laugh but sounded more like a maniacal alarm.
“Him? He’s out cold and tied up. I’m not worried.”
“You should be. There’s something about him I don’t trust.”
