I have your pretty sister.
Front door. Now.
Tell any Norcross fucker, and I’ll slit her throat instantly.
Harlow couldn’t breathe. No. No. No.
She looked back toward the party, could hear everyone laughing and talking.
If she told Easton—
Dammit, she couldn’t risk her baby sister.
But Harlow had no illusions. If she went to Hugo, he’d hurt her.
Think, Harlow.
She raced into Easton’s office, and found a piece of paper and a pen. She scrawled a note.
Trying to act calm, she wandered back into the party. She opened the refrigerator, and popped the note inside, by the beers. The men were almost ready for fresh ones. They’d find the note shortly.
She’d go out, then stall Hugo until help arrived.
Not a great plan, but it was the best she could do on short notice.
She looked back. Easton was turned away from her. She drank in his handsome profile, her heart pounding so loud she was sure that he’d hear it.
Then she turned and quickly jogged down the stairs. She had no shoes on, but there was no time to go and find any.
She opened the front door.
Instantly, hands grabbed her and yanked her out of the house. Hugo pulled her roughly down the front steps.
“Where’s Scarlett?” There was no sign of her sister.
Hugo grinned and pointed upward.
In a floor-to-ceiling window above, Harlow had the perfect view of her sister asleep in a huge armchair.
Oh, no. Harlow felt like a hand squeezed her lungs.
“She’s inside, but now you’re not.” He knocked her phone out of her hand. It hit the sidewalk and he stomped on it.
Shit. Harlow jerked back. “Fuck off, Hugo.”
Without warning, he slammed his fist into her face.
She cried out. The pain was horrible, nausea slamming into her. Her eyes watered.
He punched her again and everything went foggy.
Moments later, she groggily opened her eyes. She found herself in the back of an SUV.
Her pulse rocketed. Oh, fuck. Her shit plan had failed. Fear tasted like pond scum in her throat.
Her wrists were tied together and her face throbbed. “This isn’t going to work, Hugo.”
He took a corner fast, the tires screeching.
“Easton and his brothers will tear the city apart to find me.” Please, Easton. Find me.
Hugo laughed. “Non. They won’t. They’ll run around in circles, but you won’t be in the city.”
The SUV braked, rocking hard. She looked out the window.
A row of yachts. They were at the San Francisco Marina.
Hugo got out, then opened her door. He dragged her out of the car. Her mouth was dry, her face hurt, and she stumbled.
He dragged her toward the walkway leading to the boats.
Harlow dragged her feet, trying to slow him down.
Suddenly, he jerked her up, his face inches from hers. She smelled onions on his breath.
“You want me to hit you again?”
“No.”
“I’d like it.” He smirked.
She saw in his eyes that he would enjoy it. He was sick.
He stroked his fingers down her neck. “We are going to have so much fun together, Harlow.”
Her lungs locked.
Then he spun, and kept dragging her. They reached a sleek, white motorboat, named Knot-a-Care.
He threw her in, and she hit the floor.
Hugo untied the ropes mooring the boat, tossed them free, then strode past her to the controls. Then he gunned the engine, and the boat moved.
Oh, no. Screw this. She was diving off. She’d take her chances in the water.
She scurried to the side.
He grabbed her, a wiry arm pulling her against him.
“Oh no, little bird. My life is a fucked up mess, and it’s all your fault. You have to pay.”
Yeah, right. Harlow rolled her eyes. Just like a loser to blame someone else for their problems.
“I want a little revenge.” Hugo’s hand cupped her breast. He squeezed it cruelly.
Him touching her like that made her skin crawl.
“We’re going across the Bay. We’ll be far, far away from Norcross, and we can have a good time.” He pinched her nipple.
Harlow bit her tongue. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.
“You’ll scream for me Harlow. I promise.”
Easton sipped his beer, not really listening to the story Ace was sharing.
Harlow wanted to move out. His fingers squeezed on his beer bottle. She wanted to give them time. He didn’t need time. He loved her. She loved him. She was his.
End of story.
He took another sip. She’d just been through a pressure cooker. He lowered the beer bottle. Hell. He had no right to make demands of her right now. They needed to talk things through.
He scanned the space for her. There was no sign of her, although she’d been in the kitchen a moment ago.
“Fuck.” Vander’s deep voice. His brother was standing at the open fridge.
Easton stiffened.
His brother turned, a note in his hand.
Easton strode over and snatched it. It was in Harlow’s handwriting.
Hugo has Scarlett
Front door.
Hurry.
Fuck. Easton’s heart stopped.
“Hey.” Scarlett wandered in. “What did I miss?”
He lunged for her. “Where have you been?”
“I fell asleep on a chair in your living area. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She sobered. “What’s wrong?”
“Hugo has Harlow.” Easton raced for the stairs.
He heard Vander, Rhys, and the others right behind him.
The front door was ajar, and he sprinted outside. His gut clenched. “No sign of her.”
“Here.” Rhys crouched.
A broken cell phone lay on the pavement.
Easton took it. “It’s Harlow’s. Fuck!”
“Come on.” Vander jogged back inside.
They sprinted upstairs. “My office,” Easton ordered.
“Ace,” Vander called.
“Already on it.” The tech man appeared, laptop in hand. He set it on Easton’s desk.
Saxon, Rhys, and Rome stood with them.
“Where’s Harlow?” Scarlett demanded.
“Gia, keep Harlow’s mother and sister in the kitchen,” Easton said.
His sister hesitated.
“Please. We need to find Harlow and bring her home.”
With a nod, Gia herded the women back to the kitchen.
Ace pulled up Easton’s security cameras.
Easton watched on screen as Harlow headed for the door.
“She thought he had her sister. Of course, she’d go out there.” Easton turned her phone over in his hand, stabbing at the cracked buttons. Suddenly, it flared to life. He read the message. “The fucker threatened Scarlett if Harlow told us.”
On-screen, he watched her open the door. Hugo grabbed her, then punched her.
“He’s a dead man,” Easton growled.
Hugo carried Harlow to a vehicle, which was partly in view on the street.
“Dark-green, Jeep Grand Cherokee,” Vander said.
“I’ve got a partial plate,” Ace clipped. “Searching, but with only a partial it might take a while.”
“I’ll call Hunt.” Vander pulled out his cell phone.