The Vampire's Mail Order Bride

She got it all right. “You mean you kill people.”

He jerked back like he was shocked by her plain language. “You got a mouth on you, you know that?”

“Am I wrong?”

He slapped the duct tape back over her mouth, but she grimaced, giving herself some wiggle room behind the tape. He stomped back upstairs.

More muted tones. Some not as muted. Then more footsteps.

She poked at the tape with her tongue and managed to separate it from her skin enough so she could breathe better. How was she going to get out of here alive?

She tried to think, but her head was still thick with the drug they’d given her. She also wasn’t exactly boned up on the latest survival training. Did Hugh have an idea about what had happened to her? He’d probably think she’d just stormed off.

If he’d even noticed she was gone. He must have, right? She had no idea what time it was, no idea how long she’d been here and no real hope for getting out.

She was going to have to figure this out herself. A ping of sadness echoed through her, followed by a sharp stab of fear. They were probably going to kill her. Like, any second. That sent a burst of angry motivation through her. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Footsteps on the stairs again. She craned her neck, ignoring the bruise from where she’d been jabbed. Fat Eddie again.

He walked up to her, tore the duct tape off again, then plopped down on the couch. “My compatriots and I need to know what you know. If you know what I mean.”

“Speak English, not Brooklynese.” She bit her tongue to keep from calling him a name that would only make him want to kill her sooner.

He leaned forward, causing the zipper on the jacket of his track suit to panic. The gleam in his eyes made her think of a great white checking out a baby seal. “What did you see that night at the restaurant?”

“Which night?”

He frowned. “The last night youse was there.”

“I saw a bartender pouring weak drinks. I saw a woman stuff one of the oregano shakers in her purse. I even saw a kid grind half a fried cheese stick into the carpeting. It’s a crazy world, the restaurant biz.”

He stood, hiking up his track pants. “You think you’re funny?”

“Sometimes, yes.” She was being a smartass, and she didn’t care. If she was going to die, she was going on her terms. Not that she wanted to go at all.

He walked over to her, glowering. “It doesn’t matter. The boss says the word and you’re done. You get what I’m saying?”

So they were going to kill her regardless. “Melting chocolate led to the invention of the microwave.”

He screwed up his face. “What?”

“Nothing.” Breathe. She had to come up with a reason for them not to kill her. A way to buy some time. Think think think. “If anything happens to me—”

“What?” he sneered. “Your boyfriend is gonna come looking for you?”

Maybe. Probably not. “I have an email scheduled to send if I don’t log into my laptop every twenty-four hours.”

“So?”

“That email is set to go to the police, the FBI, Facebook and a whole bunch of media.”

“And I should care about this why?”

“Because attached to that email is the video I took that night in the restaurant along with a message that says if the email’s been received, I’ve been murdered by Anthony Rastinelli.” Sure, Sheriff Merrow already had that video, but Fat Eddie didn’t need to know that.

He laughed. “Sure, kid. You got a video.”

“Get my phone. I’ll show you.”

He thought for a second, then shook a finger at her. “If you’re lying to me…” But he marched upstairs, coming back down a few minutes later with her phone.

“Okay,” he said. “How do I get in?”

“Connect the dots in an L shape starting at the top corner.”

He squinted at the screen, his fat fingers tracing the pattern. It took him three tries. “Here.” He showed her it was unlocked. “Now what?”

“Gallery. Then videos. It’s the first one.”

He watched it while she listened and mentally replayed the scene in her head. When it was over, he stared at the screen for a second, then his fingers started tapping away like he was playing Angry Birds.

“There. I deleted it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Really? You think that’s all you had to do? I already downloaded it to my computer, you numb nut. You think I wouldn’t make a copy? Multiple copies?” She blew out an exasperated breath.

Fat Eddie’s expression flattened. “You little piece of—”

He backhanded her, splitting her lip and filling her mouth with the taste of blood. Pain radiated through her face. She spit the blood out. “You feel manly hitting a woman tied to a chair? Punk. You’re going down so hard when my friends get here.” If they got there. Before she was dead.

He leaned in, his face so close to hers she could smell his garlicky breath. “Where’s the laptop?”

“19 Hitchcock Lane.” Maybe if she sent them to Hugh’s, he’d figure out what happened and come after her. It could be her only chance.

Fat Eddie pointed one of his sausage fingers at her. “If you’re lying about this, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

Hugh stripped the pillow case off Delaney’s pillow. He paused and gave Captain a scratch on the head. “I’m going to find her, don’t worry.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">