Devil's Advocate: A Dark Mafia Romance (Devil's Playground Book 1) by Vivi Paige (different ereaders .TXT) 📗

The gun jumped and spit fire again. A bullet ricocheted off the street to my left. I poured on the speed, cursing that I couldn’t shoot back for fear of hitting Sophie.

I had the edge in acceleration and speed, and they figured out pretty quick they couldn’t outrun me. So they slowed enough that I caught up, giving their gunman a better shot.

I veered to the left hard, hearing a bullet whizz through the air near my ear. It had been far too close for comfort. Whoever was in the back was a way better shot than I was.

Thinking fast, I let go of the throttle and slowed. I made a show of pounding my fist against the gas tank, as if I were having engine trouble. Sure enough, the gunman stopped firing as the van raced through an intersection and into heavier traffic.

I motored around to a side street and engaged in a much safer parallel pursuit. The crotch rocket was noisy as fuck, so I couldn’t get any closer than that.

Fortunately for me, the chase didn't last much longer. The van pulled into the parking lot of a rusty warehouse a stone’s throw from the Jardin purification plant. I cut the engine and coasted along the strip behind them, careful to keep out of sight.

They disappeared around the corner of the warehouse, and I felt a surge of panic. I fought it down and tried to keep my cool. Getting all hot-headed and charging in would only get myself and Sophie killed.

I ditched the bike in a narrow space between two condemned buildings and crept around on the opposite block until I came into sight of the warehouse. The van sat there, all right, but no one was in evidence. As I watched, one of the mooks came out, alone, and got behind the wheel.

I wrestled with myself, wondering if I should keep after the van. Not likely Sophie was still in there, though I supposed she might have been. I made the agonizing decision to let it go and investigate the warehouse.

As the van’s tail lights faded in the distance, I hoped I’d made the right decision. Because if I hadn’t, then Sophie was as good as dead.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sophie

The towering goons dragged me out of the van by the arms, leaving one of my shoes in their wake. I kicked and screamed, but one of them slapped a meaty palm over my mouth.

I couldn’t believe my luck. Thrown into a van by masked goons twice in one week. I think it may even have been the exact same van which had taken me to the junkyard.

One of the men held me tightly as his fellow threw up a corrugated metal bay door. It rattled into the ceiling, only to be stopped by his hand. They ushered me through and quickly closed the door behind us.

The resounding slam had a note of finality as I found myself in a cavernous warehouse stacked almost to the ceiling with columns of dark gray, filthy wooden pallets. The smell of wood and musk made me want to retch.

“Quit struggling, bitch,” muttered one of the men, tossing me into an archaic metal office chair. The legs had been bolted to the floor, so it didn’t budge even when they threw me into it with enough force to sting my back. I tried not to think about the brownish-red stains on the floor underneath.

I stared around the warehouse, my chest heaving. I tried to identify exits, but the only possible avenues of escape were the big metal bay doors, and the windows high on the wall near the roof.

The latter were out of reach nearly thirty feet off the concrete floor, while the former remained behind a solid wall of masked men. I counted six in all, including a smaller man who wore gloves in addition to his mask.

He looked at me, his lips twisting into a smile through his ski mask.

“You fucked up big time, Sophie. You should have listened the first time we told you to butt out.”

I fought down a wave of panic. They hadn’t killed me yet, and I was hoping to keep it that way. I calmed myself and spoke directly to the gloved man.

“Do we know each other?” I added a chuckle I didn’t feel at all.

The other men looked at him like he was a piece of shit.

“You fucking idiot,” one of the larger ones said, slapping him in the back of the head. I realized then that they had not determined whether or not to kill me. Yet. My only hope was Indro. That grated on me to the core, but you know what they say. Any hope is better than none.

I knew Indro had been pursuing us, at least for a time. Otherwise they wouldn’t have knocked out the rear window to shoot. I had to hope he would find me before it was too late.

One of the men, the one who had slapped the gloved one on the head, walked over to loom over me. He was a big bastard, with legs like tree trunks and obvious muscle bulging under his sweatshirt.

“You want to know why you’re back here?”

I licked my lips nervously and struggled to keep my voice calm.

“I don’t know, is it because I didn’t recuse myself from the Indro Lastra case? Or because I found out that Glen Gilberti and Marco Loggia are the same man?”

He stiffened up, his eyes dancing with confusion and maybe even a little fear.

“How did you come across that amusing little tidbit?” His voice rumbled with menace. “And don’t fucking lie to me, bitch. Hurting pretty girls doesn’t bother me. In fact, it kind of turns me on.”

“Oh, stop with the Hostel act,” I sneered. If I were going to die, it wouldn’t be whimpering for mercy. “Besides, you should know the answer to that question already.”

I pointedly looked over at