Page 27 of The Hitman's Virgin
He wiped his bloody hands on his pants and pulled out a new 9mm out of his holster, checking the clip before reentering the main club.
Chapter Eleven
Was she insane?
Callie breathed deeply, her breaths being drawn inward and outward. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t help herself from constantly replaying what she’d just witnessed in that bar. It was strange, that bar had always felt like a prison, never home, and yet she always felt safe there. Not anymore.
She’d known evil existed in the world, and today she got a nice little taste of it, and she didn’t like it. It was scary. What made her feel even more insane was the fact she still felt something for Evander. She wanted to be with him. The moment his arms went around her, she felt safe, warm, comforted.
Yet, he’d just killed so many people with ease, and when it came to those people, she didn’t have any feelings. It didn’t matter to her. They were bad people.
Evander was a bad person, but he’d come for her, so it meant something to her. She couldn’t forget that.
Callie couldn’t hear any more sound, and she didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes for so long, yet as she opened them, she stared down the barrel of a gun. Was this the man Evander had called Byron? She looked at him, feeling that fear grip her so acutely. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Here was death.
“You know, Evander’s pride will be the death of him, or it could be the death of you. He should have given me what I wanted. Or do you still have it?” He let out a little tut. “I’ll find out one way or another.”
She had no idea what to do. Panic gripped her. The fear traveled down her spine, and she felt sick to her stomach.
“Get to your feet! Come on, move it,” he said. “You don’t look anything like your mother.”
“What?”
“You’ll tell me everything I need to know,” he said, prodding her.
Callie tried to take her time, but as he kicked her in the thigh, hard with his steel-toe-capped boot, she couldn’t help but scream. It hurt like hell, but she attempted to scream as loud as she could to alert Evander to the danger she was in. She’d done exactly what he said, and still, this Byron was about to take her.
She got to her feet, and Byron didn’t grab her arm but twisted her hair. Each touch he had on her body made it even harder than the one before. They walked down the street, it was getting dark, and she should have known no one was going to come out to stop him.
Some of the streetlights were out, casting growing shadows in the factory district. They were getting further away from Guy’s Titties. Callie didn’t know what was holding up Evander.
She went to reach out for the nearest streetlight and wrapped her arms around it. Byron was ready for that and punched her in the gut. It was hard, sharp, and it stole her breath away. She had no choice but to cough and wheeze as it rushed through her body. The pain was instant, and Byron moved her along. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“Please stop. He’s going to kill you.”
“Do you see me dead? I know Evander better than he knows himself. And if I don’t get what I want, you’re both going to die.”
The side of a black van opened, with a few more men.
“Where’s Charlie?” one of the guys said.
“Dead. You can thank her for that.” She was shoved into the van, and the guy who asked for Charlie pushed her to the far corner. She gasped.
The door slid closed, plunging them all into darkness. Callie stayed in her corner, feeling the fear like a living force.This was not good. These men were on a warpath, and Evander was their target. She needed to find a way to prolong her life, or stop them from killing her.
None of them spoke. The car moved, and she had no choice but to reach out toward either side of the van, to hold herself steady. She tried not to make too many sudden movements in case it drew their attention her way.
They were silent. Why were they silent? It made no sense to her. Men they had known were now dead.Don’t bring that up, and don’t remind them that you’re important to Evander. Try to stay alive. Try to figure this out. You’ve gotten this far without ending up dead.
The van slowed down, and Callie tried to listen to what was happening. Were they stopping? Did she need them to keep driving? She had no idea what she was supposed to do.
Callie closed her eyes and counted to ten. She didn’t make a single sound, just kept counting. Each time the van came to a stop, she was close to throwing up. If this van stopped, it would be the end of her.
“What do you have planned for her?” one of the guys asked.
“Are you wanting to have some fun with her, is that it?” Byron asked.
There was silence. That sickness was swirling in her gut.
