RUIN: Psychological Enemies-to-Lovers Thriller

I took out my phone and texted Mason.

Me: Can we meet in six days?

Mason: You’re ready to come to Paradise and get an introduction?

Swallowing, I pushed back my nerves and typed.

Me: I’m ready.

Mason: My price is $25,000.

I thought about the money I’d been saving from stripping and added what I should get from tonight’s haul. I went back to my phone.

Me: I’ve got the money.

Mason: Then I’ll give you the location in three days.

Me: Okay.

Mason: Wear something sexy.

I put the phone down and sighed.

If he fucks me over, I’m going to kill him.

My mind drifted back to the gang leader. Too bad I’d had to shoot him, but I knew I would only get one chance at ripping those guys off. I spent too much time planning to be at the right strip club at the right time.

I was tired of waiting to be somebody. Waiting to finally have money. Waiting to be successful.

I’m done with surviving. I want to live.

Exhaustion began to hit me. The adrenaline of the evening was finally wearing off.

“You fucking did it.” I collapsed back onto the motel bed.

The springs squeaked. Dust rose from the tattered sheets. A dirty mildew scent radiated from the fabric. I never slept on this monstrosity without my clothes on.

Yawning, I checked to make sure my small gun rested under my pillow. Once I confirmed that, I closed my eyes.

This is the last night on this bed.

I wrapped my arms around the bag and clutched it to my chest.

Just be thankful you have something to sleep on.

In five days, I would be starting a new life.

Until then, I had to keep my head low and. . .

The door crashed open.

What the fuck?!

Fast, I opened my eyes.

Wood shattered in seconds. The metal locks fell to the ground.

And the three guys from earlier stood in the doorway, glaring down at me.

Chapter 3

Fucked

Phoenix

S

hit! How the hell did they find me?

The short one stomped inside, carrying a shotgun and aiming at me. “Cain, isn’t that cute? She’s cuddled up with our money.”

Holy fuck!

Shaking, I eased my hand back, getting it as close to my pillow as possible.

I have to get the damn gun.

Scowling, the leader stepped forward. He wore a white shirt. A white bandage wrapped around his arm. He held two guns in his hand. “Maybe, she wanted to keep it warm for us, Griff.”

When I grabbed the gun, I wouldn’t know which one to shoot first. If I shot the one holding a shotgun, the leader would put a bullet in me. If I went for the leader, then the one with the shotgun had me.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Thanks.” The third guy slipped inside, gripping a huge machete. “I bet the money is all nice and toasty now.”

“Whoa!” I raised my hands in the air. “There is no need for a machete! I’ll give you all the damn money!”

The leader—who I now knew was Cain—grinned. “I have guns. Griff has a shotgun. And your biggest worry is one machete?”

“Usually, people like to hack with them.” I lowered one hand and slung the bag to the floor. “Here. Take it.”

Cain growled, “Grab the bag, West.”

The one with the machete picked it up.

Okay. The leader is Cain. Mr. Machete is West. What’s the short one’s name again? Gruff or Griff.

I slowly eased back and put my hand closer to the pillow. My fingers were now barely two inches from the gun under it.

Cain watched my hand and pointed at my head. “Don’t move.”

I froze.

West rummaged through the bag. “Hmmm.”

How the hell did they find me? And so damn fast?

Frowning, West looked at Cain and dropped the bag. “It’s only about five thousand in there along with Ziploc bags of jewelry.”

I shook my head. “It’s short. . .because y-you let the dancers keep their money.”

They glared at me. Rage blazed in their eyes.

I gulped down fear. “I also had to give my associates some money.”

Cain sneered. “Associates?”

The short one stepped forward with the shot gun now aimed at my chest. “And the credit cards?”

“They’re here.” I gestured at the pillow behind me. “I can get them for you really quick.”

“No.” Cain held up his hand. “You should rest. I’m sure stealing from us tired you out.”

“It would be no problem.” I reached for the pillow again.

Cain crossed the room fast. In a blur, he had one hand tight around my neck. The other hand slammed me down to the bed.

Terror ripped up my spine. “No!”

“No?” Getting on the bed, he hovered over me. Violence radiated from his huge body.

I shook. Dread rushed into my lungs, suffocating me. I gazed at him. My throat went dry.

He’s going to kill me.

Cain was a chiseled personification of evil.

Mom used to say demons took on human form.

Yet, Cain could have been the devil himself. The Prince of Darkness. Surely, a fallen angel would wear a handsome mask—one so stunning that even my panties moistened in the face of danger. Even my nipples stiffened, but there would be no salvation.