The Wrong Kind of Love

Jude

A pressed magnolia falls out of the leather bank bag along with the wad of rubber-banded cash, and my heart speeds up before it skips a beat.

This is the worst kind of omen. One I haven’t seen in years, and one that means the man I thought to be dead—the man who slaughtered my family—is still alive.

The door to my office creaks open, but I keep my gaze focused on the white petals.

“Where am I going, Jude?” Rich, one of my guys, stands in the doorway, a smoldering cigarette gripped between his thin lips.

“Nashville.” I drop the magnolia to my desk, redirecting my attention to business. I’d worry about Tom Campbell and his omen later. I jot down an address on a slip of paper, then pass it off. “Euan Williams. If he doesn’t have the money, rough him up, take something as collateral.” Not that I expect some dumb college kid to have anything worth twenty-grand.

The only reason the little shit even was able to place a bet with me was thanks to the combination of him placing it through some bad channels with a fake handle and my having had too much whiskey that night.

I’m pissed as hell, but there’s not much else I can do now but threaten the fucker.

The phone on my desk rings, and I reach for it, pausing as I glance back at Rich. “Give him three days to come up with the funds. Tell him he’s dead if he doesn’t deliver.” Harsh? Maybe, but the thing is, when people want to play with men like me, they need to understand the ramifications.This business is something my father taught me to take very seriously.

Rich gives a curt nod, closing the door behind him as I lift the receiver to my ear. “Go ahead, partner.”

“This is Big Ole’ Boy. First half bet on the underdog. Two dimes. Bottom five.”

I scribble the bet over my legal pad then hang up, lighting a cigarette before I lean back in my office chair, gaze trained on that damn flower.

Tom Campbell is still alive, but the thing is, this time, there’s no woman in my life for him to destroy...

Victoria

It’s been at least thirty minutes since I woke up, bound and gagged, to complete darkness and the low hum of an engine. And it’s taken me that long to fight through the grogginess clinging to me.

The last thing I remember is having dinner in my boyfriend Euan’s apartment when a guy I’d never met before turned up. And then Euan told the stranger to take me as collateral. For what, I have no idea. I was too shocked and horrified to ask before he rammed a needle in my neck.

Brakes squeal as the car takes a sharp turn. My body rolls against the back of the seats just before it comes to a stop.

I hear the door open, and my already panicked heartbeat grows even more erratic.

The crunch of footsteps over gravel pass by the wheel well, then stop. The trunk pops open. Warm, muggy night air surrounds me as I stare up at the shadowy outline of trees.

My mind runs rife as I imagine being dragged into the woods and killed, then the hulking silhouette of a man leans over the trunk and hauls me out.

The second my feet touch the floor, survival instinct overrides all else.

I use every bit of strength I have to knee the man in the balls. He grunts and buckles over, but I don’t hang around to watch him hit the ground. I sprint across the gravel toward the treeline. Maybe I can hide there if I can just– but that thought is cut short when the guy’s arms come around me and he tackles me to the ground. His heavy weight lands on top of me and knocks my breath out on a desperate sob.

“I should make you pay for that, you little bitch.” He yanks me up by my bound hands. The harsh movement sends pain ripping through my shoulders as he marches me pass the car toward the two-story brick house that sits behind it.

I know that the second he gets me inside that house, I’ll likely never come out, but I’m not brave enough to try and run again. Honestly, I’m terrified of what he’ll do if I piss him off anymore.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask. If I can’t fight him, maybe I can reason with him, pay him. Something.

“Your little boyfriend owes us twenty grand. So, it depends if he pays, I guess.”

And what if he doesn’t pay? My first thought is that of course he’ll pay, that he’d never let them hurt me. But I also never in a million years would have thought my upstanding, “nice guy” boyfriend would hand me over to a man like this.