Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Which means I can’t hope for a rescue from them.
In fact, if he’s hiding me in here from his associates out there, it could be for my own safety. Like they might insist on killing me.
Oh fuck.
My entire body starts to shake. Not a slight tremble, but a terrible shuddering that makes my knees knock together and my ribs lock down in a painful cinching.
I hear male voices and footsteps tromping past the closet. The sound of a body being dragged.
Tears drip down my cheeks and over the duct tape on my mouth. My breath rasps harshly in and out of my nose.
“What about the florist?” a male asks just outside the closet. “Need me to clean that up?”
“I got rid of her,” Armando says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. She didn’t see anything. It’s cool.”
I was right. He’s protecting me. That’s why I’m in the closet. Because if his buddies out there knew I saw something, I might have to die.
But then… how do I know he’s not going to kill me anyway? Maybe he just wants to make me his fuck toy first. Keep me tied up in his closet for months and months and then throw me dead in a ditch.
Oh my God.
This is bad.
“I’ll finish the clean up here. I owe you. Don’t tell anyone about this. I’ll tell the don myself, yeah?”
“Yeah, as long as you do.”
“Swear to Christ. Hey—get rid of his gun, too. I can’t carry one.”
“Are you fucking nuts? Someone’s trying to kill you. You need a piece.”
“I can take care of myself.”
He definitely can. I just saw him take care of an armed man without ever firing. In fact, he’d purposely emptied the gun chamber. I don’t think he meant to kill that guy at all. It was definitely self-defense.
“I fucking hope so.”
The back door shuts. I wait, my shaking intensifying as the possibilities fly through my mind.
What’shappeningwhat’shappeningwhat’shappening?
The closet door flies open, and I blink at the sudden light. Armando’s face comes into focus. His brows lower when he looks at me. “Aw, baby. Did you think I was going to leave you in here?” He thumbs away the tears under my left eye.
Did I? Not really. I just didn’t like being tied up and standing in a dark closet. Feeling helpless.
He drags me forward, out of the closet and works the corner of tape free over my upper lip. “I’m sorry for this.” He yanks it all off in one pull. A strangled cry erupts as the tape leaves my lips.
“You okay?”
“No,” I snap. “Let me go.” My demand sounds way more watery than firm.
“Sorry, Flowers. That’s not possible.” He pulls me into my workshop. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to clean up your shop, and you’re going to stay where I put you and not make a sound. Can you do that, or do I need to put you back in the closet?”
I’m tempted—so tempted—to knee him in the balls. Except I just saw what this man is capable of. He fought a man armed with a gun and a knife, and he won. There’s no way it would go well for me.
He thumbs away the tears under my right eye. “Be cool, Flowers, and we won’t have any problems. Okay?”
“I don’t want you here.” It’s a dumb thing to say, but it’s true. I want him to leave. I want him out of my shop. My life. My reality.
I think I’m going to puke.
I wish this evening never happened.
“Feeling’s mutual, Flowers.” He pulls back the stool at my desk, which is essentially in the hallway where he can see me from the front room and pushes me into it.
“It’s Hannah.” I turn to face him as he gets a broom and dustpan out of the closet and moves swiftly into the shop. “But you know that.”
I’m a little bitter that his speaking my name was my downfall. If I hadn’t hesitated when he called my name, I would’ve made it out the back door.
“Hannah.” His back is to me. He sweeps up the broken pots and soil with swift, deft movements. “You own the place now.”
I watch the muscles in his back ripple each sure stroke of the broom. I shouldn’t be flattered that he knows things about me. And really, it’s not like he knows something earth-shattering. It’s a basic fact everyone in his organization knows. Yet it makes my pulse quicken.
“Armando.”
The sound of his name makes his head snap up and brings his gaze to mine. My stomach drops away. He’s as breathtaking as I remembered him, except so very serious now. There’s no hint of a smile on his face anymore. None of the charm and ease. And the eyes…
Compassion weasels in.
Because his eyes look ancient.
“You remembered.”
I shrug like he never starred in a hundred of my darkest fantasies. “You remembered mine, too. Where have you been?” My voice sounds rusty.