Snow Job by Tara Wyatt (best large ereader .txt) 📗

“Useless bitch,” he sneered, shoving her against the back of the couch.

“I’ll look for clues. You stay here with them,” said the bald man. “Which bedroom is yours?” he asked, and Kayla pointed at the open door with a shaking hand. Her face throbbed but the rest of her felt numb. She clung to Willa, just trying to breathe through the tightness in her chest. They were going to die. These men were going to kill them. There was no way, even after they found out where Sebastian was, that they would just walk away and let them live when they could so easily identify them. She held Willa tighter, squeezing her eyes shut.

The sounds of her room being ransacked reached her. Drawers slamming, items hitting the floor, closet doors flinging open. Her mind raced as she tried to think if they could find anything that would tell them where Sebastian was. Her phone was somewhere under the blanket still. Oh God, what if they killed her before she was able to get a message to Sebastian to warn him? Her breaths came faster and faster, and it felt like the walls of her apartment were closing in on her.

“This is stupid,” said the bald man, coming back into the living room. “Let’s just dispose of the roommate and take Blondie back. I bet if he knows we have her, Prescott will show up.”

The young man tilted his head, apparently considering the suggestion. Willa was shaking so hard it felt like she was vibrating against Kayla. “That’s not a bad idea. If we take his girl, that might draw him out from wherever he’s hiding.”

Willa let out a soft sob and Kayla held her tighter.

“Please,” she said, desperation clawing at her. “I’ll go with you. Just don’t hurt her. She has absolutely nothing to do with this. I’ll go with you willingly if you leave her alone.”

“Aw. Isn’t that sweet?” said the younger man, his voice sour with sarcasm. “You’re not in a position to bargain, Blondie. And you’re coming with us whether you want to or not.”

He started to move toward her when the door burst open again, this time revealing Max and Lucian in the doorway, and holy shit, Lucian had a gun. Which he used on the bald man immediately, shooting him in the foot. The man screamed and Max tackled him to the ground, wrestling his gun away from him.

Lucian stepped forward, his gun now trained on the young man. “Put your gun down,” he said calmly. “Or I blow your fucking brains out, right here, right now.”

The younger man only hesitated for a second before he slowly lowered his gun to the ground.

“Kick it to me,” said Lucian, the picture of steely calm, his gun still pointed at the man. He did and Lucian picked it up, tucking it into his waistband. Once the men were both unarmed, Max rose, taking his knee off of the bald man’s throat, his eyes burning with intensity as he stared at them, huddled together on the couch.

“Kayla, Willa. Are you hurt?” asked Lucian, still staring at the man in front of him.

“N-No. We’re okay,” said Kayla, tremors moving through her body. It suddenly felt ice cold in the apartment.

“Kayla. You have a hand print on your face. Which one of them hit you?” He waved his gun between the two men.

“Him,” she said, pointing to the young one.

Lucian sent a pitying look in his direction. “That was a mistake.” Then he glanced over his shoulder at Max. “Take them back to my place. I’ll handle this here.”

Willa and Kayla scrambled off the couch and toward Max, who pulled Willa into his arms, his palms roving up and down her back, over her head, her arms. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” he asked, his voice raw.

“I’m okay,” she answered in a shaky voice. “I’m so glad you got my text.”

They shoved on coats and shoes in record time and then Max ushered them out of the apartment and into the stairwell, not wanting to chance waiting for the elevator. Before they’d reached the bottom floor, Kayla’s stomach heaved and she turned into the corner, throwing up her dinner. She couldn’t seem to stop shaking, and her vision kept closing in around the edges.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” she said, her voice shaky.

Max looped an arm around her waist. “Not until we get to the car.”

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang out from above them and she jumped. Max’s grip tightened on her as he bundled her and Willa down the stairs and out into the icy New York night.

It was three AM by the time Sebastian pulled his borrowed Blizzard Ridge SUV into a space in Lucian’s parking garage. He didn’t remember the four-hour drive from the resort to Manhattan. He didn’t remember the highway passing him by or the songs on the radio. He didn’t remember his hands on the wheel, his knuckles white the entire way, his jaw tight to the point of aching. All he remembered was the sound of Lucian’s voicemail, playing through his mind on a continuous loop.

Bastian, when you get this you need to come home. Two of Damian Coldhurst’s men invaded Kayla and Willa’s apartment tonight, looking for you. Thankfully, Willa was able to text Max and the women are both safe. I don’t know why the fuck you thought it was a good idea to get involved with Coldhurst, but it’s handled. For now. Come home and take care of your debt and your woman. She needs you.

Emotions churned sickly through him, swirling together until they were indistinguishable from each other. Guilt. Shame. Self-loathing. Remorse. Fear. Anger. They were all there, snarled together inside him, eating at him. Taking bite after bite out of the man he’d tried to become, reminding him of who he really was. An impulsive, worthless asshole who only brought pain and suffering to anyone foolish