Wrapping my hand around Ainsley’s forearm, I raised the index finger of my other hand to my lips. She snapped her head towards me, eyes round like saucers.
“Who is it?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
I shook my head but didn’t say anything. Motioning for her to follow me, I started to take a couple of steps towards my bathroom. I stepped to one side, gesturing for Ainsley to go in ahead of me.
“Hurry up,” I muttered.
Just then, two voices I didn’t recognize caught my attention. I couldn’t tell if they were talking or arguing but they were definitely speaking Spanish.
Oh no!
Could it be that my dad’s warning was coming true? Had these men come to kill me for what happened to the hitman?
Following Ainsley into the bathroom, I scampered inside, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible. How would I even begin to explain this to her? I had no doubt that’s what was happening. As for Dorian’s men, I assumed the worst.
Oh my God. Fuck.
After locking the door, I turned and looked at Ainsley. She stood frozen next to the toilet and the only window in the bathroom. Even though she’d been nothing but a bitch to me since day one, this wasn’t her problem. I had to find a way to get her out of there. Dorian would kill me if something happened to his sister, and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to her either.
“Where the hell did they go?” one of the men yelled, his thick accent making it difficult to catch each word.
“Check the back, bedrooms, bathrooms,” the other man demanded. “Those bitches are here somewhere.”
Fearing they’d be on us at any second, I pointed towards the window. Ainsley nodded, turning and unfastening the latches. Around that time, I heard one of the men walk into my bedroom. My eyes darted back and forth, focusing on the door knob to the bathroom and Ainsley while she worked to open the window.
“It’s stuck,” she grunted, still whispering. “I can’t get it to budge.”
I licked my lips and stepped around to the other side of the window to help her. Pushing together, we finally got it to open. But when we did, dried paint around the edges made a horrendous cracking sound when it came loose.
Terrified, Ainsley raised both of her hands to her face, covering her mouth. I clenched my jaw, snapping my head towards the bathroom door again. Almost immediately, the man who entered my bedroom banged away on it.
“Open the door! Open the door!”
There wasn’t much time. Shit. Who am I kidding? There wasn’t any time. Ignoring him for the time being, I climbed on top of the toilet seat and looked out the window. The drop appeared to be about ten feet. Pulling my head back inside, I looked at Ainsley.
“Hurry!” I whispered, pointing towards the open window. “You can make it if you go.”
To my shock, she stepped back and shook her head. “I’m not going to leave you here by yourself.”
The man started to kick the door, each violent blow rattling the hinges. I grabbed Ainsley by the wrist. Her eyes locked on mine.
“I’m begging you… Please.”
I tried to pull her to the window, but she dug in, refusing to take a single step.
“No,” she began, snatching her wrist free of my grasp. “Dorian would never forgive me, ever, if I left you alone and something happened. I’m not going anywhere.”
Unfortunately, our mutual concern about what Dorian might or might not do cost us. The other man joined the first, and between their combined efforts, the door started to crack and splinter.
Ainsley and I backed into the wall. It was only a matter of time. Finally, they burst through, one of the men pointing his gun directly at both of us.
“Hands up!” he shouted.
The other man stood in the doorway, also with his gun drawn and pointed in our direction. Doing as we were told, Ainsley and I walked with our hands in the air, being directed back to the living room. Once we entered, I staggered to a stop.
“Jesus!” I yelled.
Ainsley gasped.
The bodies of both Dorian’s security guards lay there. Each had taken bullets to the head.
“Shut up! Both of you on the couch. Come on! Go!”
After we sat down, one of the men walked close to me, jamming his pistol in the front of his pants before stopping a couple of feet short and looking down at me.
In the background, the other gunmen kept his firearm at the ready.
The one staring in my direction tilted his head to one side, extending and cracking his neck. I winced at the sounds.
Growing up in one of the poorer parts of Vegas, I’d seen gang colors before. With their tattoos and clothing, it wasn’t a stretch to guess they were members. It was all the evidence I needed to know that my dad’s prediction was a warning I should have heeded.
The man looked down at me, running his tongue back and forth across his teeth with his mouth closed before he spoke at last.
“Bitch, you know why we’re here?”
I wasn’t about to be intimidated by them. After all, I was the one they wanted, not Ainsley. A sudden jolt of courage shot through my veins.
“Fuck. You.” I growled.
The man’s face wrinkled with amusement. He turned to his partner and they started to laugh. He looked at me again.
“You’re a stupid cunt, aren’t you?”
I swallowed hard, never breaking eye contact with him. He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes and looking at me like a hyena.
“Maybe we should fuck both of you before making you pay for what happened to Juan.”
I had no idea who they were talking about but everything pointed to revenge for the hitman. Somehow, I had to get Ainsley out of there. By the looks of them, it seemed like the odds were pretty good he’d follow through on his promise.
“Listen,” I began, leaning forward. “Let her go. She has nothing to do with any of this.”
“What are you talking about?” Ainsley asked.
I shook my head and shot a glare at her. “Don’t talk.”
The man across from me pointed at Ainsley. “Yeah, bitch. Shut your fucking mouth before I put my cock in it.”
“I didn’t kill him!” I blurted out. “He…”
The gunmen looked at me again, this time grabbing his weapon from his pants and pointing at me. “I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth, you puta. A good man is gone. His mother is devastated. This is payback, nothing more.”
Staring down the barrel, I forced a dry swallow down my throat but didn’t respond.
“That’s better,” he said, nodding.
He started to turn to say something to the other gunman, but before he could I spoke again.
“How is killing either one of us going to help? What good is it going to do his mother?”
He looked at me and made a noise that sounded like a cross between a scoff and a chuckle. “Bitch, who said anything about killing you?”
Wordless, I blinked at him, the terror of an unknown fate gripping me.
“No…” he snarled, “you are worth far more alive than dead.”
The man then turned his attention to Ainsley. “And so are you, gringa.”
He backed away and nodded at the other man. “Let’s do this.”