Sinful Ella (Seven Ways to Sin 6)

“Shut up, Howie,” I said.

“Has anyone checked the trunk?” Howie stage-whispered.

“Shut up, Howie,” the rest of us chorused. I shook my head fondly, but I was frowning. Something wasn’t right here. If they didn’t want to pass, what did they want?

As we watched, the car picked up speed. “I think they’re going to—” Before Saul could finish his sentence, the car rear-ended us, sending a hard jolt through the van.

“What the hell,” Lester said, his face pale. “What does this guy think he’s doing?”

“Keep going, Chris,” Saul said, voice shaky. “There’s something wrong here.”

Chris’s knuckles were bone white against the steering wheel. “Everyone hold on,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m going to try to lose them.”

He picked up speed, and one by one, we all reached for the closest seat belts. Our eyes were fixed out the rear window, on the dark sedan that kept pace with us easily. After a few moments, the sedan came around to flank us.

“I think that’s—” Darren began at the same time Jason said, “It’s Cole and Heath!”

Valentina’s lackeys? My mind raced. I knew Valentina would be pissed when we ducked out on her, but this seemed extreme. I watched in horror as the car veered toward us, forcing us off the road

The next few minutes passed in a blur of bright lights, screaming metal, and finally, deafening silence. Beside me, Saul shifted.

“Is everyone okay?” he asked. His voice trembled on the question.

I flexed my limbs experimentally. They all seemed to be intact, if a little bruised. “I’m okay,” I said. The rest of the guys confirmed that they, too, had made it through the crash unharmed.

The side door was wrenched open, revealing a glowering Cole. “Well, look who it is,” he growled. “The arsonists themselves.”

Wait . . . arsonists?

Heath appeared next to him, round face shiny with sweat. “Did you really think you would get away with it?” he said. “Setting that fire and sneaking out like cowards?”

I finally found my voice. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “What fire?”

“Like you don’t know,” Cole scoffed.

“The Ball had another fire?” Darren asked. “Was anyone hurt?”

A fire. I felt my chest constrict. Could I smell smoke, or was my mind playing tricks on me again?

“Don’t try to act innocent,” Heath said. “We know it was you. Why else would you pack up all your stuff and skip town? You think you can skip out on your debt?”

“Debt?” Saul asked sharply. “What are you talking about? What debt?” He began to struggle against his seat belt, which had been mangled in the crash.

“Why don’t you ask him,” Heath jerked his chin toward me. “He knows all about it.”

Saul turned questioning eyes toward me. “Grant? What is he talking about?”

But I couldn’t answer. I was focused on my breathing, on remaining calm. My vision swam, dark around the edges. I closed my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.

“That’s enough,” Cole said, and I snapped my eyes open at Jason’s sharp intake of breath. In Cole’s hand was a gun, the barrel of which was pointed directly at my head.

“Cole—” I began, but before I could try to talk him down, I felt a sharp pain in my head, and everything went black.

21

Ella

“Here we are.” Valentina flicked on the lights as we passed through the front door. “Home sweet home.”

I looked around the cluttered space. “It’s lovely,” I said politely. In truth, it was a mess, with clothes and dishes and God knows what else scattered everywhere.

Valentina shrugged. “I don’t actually spend much time here,” she said. “Running the club takes a lot of my time.”

I nodded, stifling a yawn. My sleepless night was beginning to catch up with me, and I was exhausted. I followed Valentina into the living room.

“You can sleep on the couch,” Valentina said. “The bathroom is just down the hall. I’ll get you some blankets.”

I busied myself looking around while Valentina left in search of blankets. The couch was old and sagging; it looked like it had seen better days. I sat on it experimentally, and it creaked ominously beneath me. A loud squeaking drew my attention to the far corner of the room. It seemed to be coming from under a stained sheet that was draped over another piece of furniture. Intrigued, I went to investigate, lifting the sheet to reveal a cage full of . . . mice?

“Oh!” I gasped, taking an involuntary step back, just as Valentina reentered.

“I see you’ve met my pets,” she said, matter-of-fact.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” I stammered, embarrassed to have been caught snooping. “I just heard a strange noise.”

Valentina waved her hand. “Not at all,” she said.

I snuck another glance at the cage. “They’re . . . cute,” I said. “How many do you have?”

Valentina wrinkled her nose in thought. “About . . . fifteen? Honestly, it’s hard to keep track. The number changes pretty often.”