Coyote (EBOOK)

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I wait for the guy to pull the trigger. If he’s expecting me to beg, he’ll be disappointed. Begging rarely influences the result, especially when it comes to violence.
Instead of the bullet I’ve braced myself for, he walks up to me, presses the gun into my ribs, then rips off my balaclava. “You’ve really fucked up my night,” he says in a dead voice that slides through my veins like ice water. His intense blue eyes stare into mine, cold and unforgiving. I realize I was wrong about my ability to suppress fear.
I swallow, then clear my throat. “Sorry about that.”
His lips tip up, but he’s not amused. His gaze doesn’t waver from mine as he reaches out and takes a lock of my hair, pulls it towards him and inhales.
Everything inside me freezes as demons try to claw their way out from the box that I’ve locked down tight. If they escape, they’ll destroy my soul and I’ll lose the woman I’ve so carefully constructed.
“Don’t,” I demand as I knock his hand away.
He doesn’t react as he hands me the balaclava. “Put it back on.”
It’s a life vest for me, the safety of darkness, and I cover my head, feeling secure inside it. Stupidly.
Then he does something that outrages me. He fucking turns his back on me as if I have no power to hurt him. I hold my breath as he walks across the room and yanks a cord attached to a floor lamp out of its socket.
I tense, getting ready to run.
“Don’t.” His back is still turned, but the warning in his voice promises death.
I freeze as he snaps the cord from the lamp, then returns to me. “Turn around.”
I blow out a breath as I think about what to do. I’m fully aware my fight or flight response is one bad idea away from defending myself.
I’ve hesitated too long as he lightly grips my shoulder and turns me so I’m facing away. He wraps the cord around my wrists and then yanks me backwards into his hard chest. “We’re going outside.” His words slide over me like melting ice. “You’re going to walk in front of me without speaking, without struggling or trying to run away.”
It’s an expectation, not a warning or command.
“And then?” I whisper.
“I’m going to lock you in my van and come back to clean up your fucking mess. Keep your mouth shut and be grateful you’re still breathing.”