He reaches in a pocket to take some keys and a second gun out.
“No,” I try to protest, using all the air left in my lungs. I don’t want him to leave me. I’m terrified.
I grab his hand to keep him from taking off. My palm becomes warm and sticky. I look down at my hand. It’s red. “Oh my God, Tanner, you’re hit. You’re bleeding.”
“I know. That’s why they don’t pay me minimum wage. Get in the house. I will only be a minute.”
“Please, Tanner,” I say, grabbing onto his blood-stained pants.
He removes my hand with a firm grip and sprints down the gravel road, leaving me all alone with a gun I don’t know how to use.
I try to get onto my feet but find it impossible to move. It takes me ages to reach the front door. I scout the area for signs of Tanner. What if he was captured or, worse, what if he’s dead? I’ll be next if that’s the case.
And then I see the man running at me. He’s huge and built like a fucking armored vehicle. I’ve only seen one man that size before—Wolf. The crazy ass killer that pulled a gun on Jaxson and Brad at the club.
I try to run but I am stuck on the spot with a heart that threatens to explode. I see the knife in Wolf’s hand as he raises it to throw it at me. I want to duck but I’m paralyzed with fear. The knife whizzes by my ear making my heart stop.
I hear a growl behind me. I quickly turn my head, guided by sheer instinct. A man is standing a few feet away, looking at me with stunned eyes, a knife stuck in the middle of his chest. He falls to his knees slowly, his eyes going glassy now.
And then I run. Finally, my feet begin to work and I run faster than I ever have in my life. I run toward the hill yelling out Tanner’s name.
Wolf is faster than me, I know that with every fiber of my being. If Tanner Hayes doesn’t come back to help me, I’m breathing my last breaths.
My pursuer hisses a curse out behind me as he tackles me. I go down hard, hearing my bones hit the gravel road.
I’m helpless. I’m at his mercy.
Wolf’s hand is at my hair, fisting it. He pulls me up and I fight his hand, afraid he’ll tear the hair off my head. I flail my legs and arms as he drags me to a car. I manage to land an insignificant kick or two on his massive body.
“Help,” I scream as loud as I can. “Tanner, help!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Wolf says, his hard fist crashing against my skull.
Everything spins, my body goes limp under me. I can feel how he swings me over his shoulder and then tosses me into the back seat of his car.
Then everything goes black.
—twelve—
Ella
He’s taking me back to my apartment. As impossible as that seems, we’re in Studio City, driving down Cahuenga Blvd. Wolf’s phone rings and then stops right away. He must have sent it to voicemail.
I bring both hands to my head, wishing I could stop the incessant ringing in my ears. I have so many questions but no intention of putting any of them to the monster in the driver’s seat. If he punches me a second time, he might kill me. Of course, that could have been his plan all along—take me back to my place and murder me the way he did Madison. But no, my mind is playing tricks on me. It was the Bronsons that murdered Madison because of my father, right? But what if Wolf works for them? Didn’t that scenario cross anyone’s mind?
Who was the man that he killed with the knife? Someone else trying to kill me or someone trying to protect me from Wolf? The vicious cycle of unanswered questions spins in my throbbing head.
Wolf parks the car in the underground parking lot. He opens the back door and drags me out, putting his arm around my shoulder. He’s so big next to me, he feels like a moving mountain. He pulls the front of his jacket to the side so I can see the gun he’s carrying.
“Keep quiet,” he says as he nudges me forward to the elevator. I comply. His sheer body mass would be enough to crush me in an instant.
“Are you going to kill me?” I say, instantly regretting it. Why put ideas in his head?
Instead of an answer, he pinches my forearm hard enough to make me squirm. I manage somehow not to produce any sounds. He’s requested total silence. My compliance is a given.
In front of my apartment door, Wolf dives into my jeans pockets, first on the front and then in the back. I bite my tongue not to shove him away, hating the intrusion. We both know how far that would take me.
“Keys?” he barks at me.
“Purse,” I manage to say with trembling lips. “They were in my purse.” A purse that was left in Tanner’s car.
Wolf swears non-stop as he takes out some special device from his pocket. His huge left hand remains tight around my arm. When the door opens, he pushes me inside the apartment violently.