Dancer in Lingerie (Lingerie 13)

That was when someone grabbed me.

One hand was flung across my mouth while the other gripped me around the waist. “She smells as good as she looks.” A creepy voice spoke directly into my ear, the calmness of his tone more terrifying than the hand that silenced my mouth. He ripped off my jacket, leaving only my skintight dress behind.

“I find that hard to believe.” A man emerged from around the corner, dressed all in black with a beanie over his head. Approaching forty with a thick beard along his jaw, he looked like the devil spawn that roamed the streets late at night. He held a long piece of rope in his hands, which told me they didn’t just want my clutch.

They wanted something else.

My survival instincts kicked in. I bit hard on his middle finger and bucked my hips hard at the same time.

“Bitch!” His hand loosened on my mouth as he jerked backward, his other arm releasing my waist.

I turned around and kicked him as hard as I could right between the legs.

“Fuck!” He gripped his balls and fell to the ground, so winded he couldn’t even move.

I spat on him—just because he deserved it. Then I reached down and pulled out the knife I noticed sticking out of his belt.

“Get her!” The guy with the beard moved in behind me just as two other guys joined the fight.

I got the knife and turned around. “Touch me and see what happens.” I held the knife just the way my father taught me, my other hand held at the ready while the rest of my body maintained a defensive posture.

“Oh, I will touch you.” He nodded to one of the other men, telling him to move in behind me.

I was surrounded and outnumbered, but I’d rather die than let them take me. I would fight my way out of this, never giving up.

I heard the sound of a cocking gun behind me. “Drop the knife, bitch.”

I didn’t turn around, keeping my eyes on the guy with the beard and the rope. “Stop calling me bitch. You three are the ones acting like bitches.” I turned around, my knife still held at the ready. I came face-to-face with the black gun pointed at my face.

I kept a neutral expression, but I was terrified. A barrel was pointed directly between my eyes, and my life depended on the finger squeezing the trigger. Just ten minutes ago, I was dining with my family, getting fat off bread, and having a great time. Now I was fighting for my life, unsure what to do and how to survive.

But I wasn’t gonna let these men take me. They didn’t want my shit. My clutch was on the ground, and they could have snatched it and taken off by now. No, they wanted me—and that was something I would never give.

“Drop the knife, bitch.” He took a step closer to me, the gun shaking in his hand.

Like the rest of the Barsettis, I was temperamental. Not to mention, insanely stubborn. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.” I threw the knife, hitting him right in the shoulder.

He immediately fell back, gripping his shoulder as the blade stuck out of the wound. “Jesus Christ!”

The man with the beard jumped on me and quickly wrapped my wrists in the rope. “Got her.”

I used all my strength to push him off, but the rope was too tight.

He pushed me onto the ground, not caring that my dress had risen over my ass and now they could see my thong. “Damn, that’s a fine ass.”

I tried to kick him. “Let me go! Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Nope.” The guy pulled out a piece of white fabric to bind my mouth. “But our dicks are about to find out.”

“I’m Carmen Barsetti.” My name was all I had. I came from a powerful and wealthy family, a group of men who would stop at nothing until they had me back. “And my father will butcher all of you.”

“Shut up. We don’t give a shit.” He kicked me in the back.

The pain made me lurch forward, but I refused to cry out. “Well, you should. Because Bones is my brother.”

That made them halt in their tracks. It turned quiet, and they all looked at each other because that name obviously meant something to them.

His name was my lifeline, so I kept using it. “And he won’t stop until he gets me back. You know exactly what he’ll do to all of you once he tracks me down. So let me go, and get the hell out of town.”

They all looked at each other and seemed to come to an agreement. “If we let you go, we’re as good as dead. That means we have to kill you when we’re done—no tracks.” The man shoved the fabric into my mouth and gagged me so all I could do was make muffled screams.