Page 11 of Snaring Emberly
“There’s a warrant out for your arrest,” he says.
The implication of his words kicks me in the gut. He’s going to use his authority to drag me out of the club. If anyone intervenes, he’ll just explain his heavy handedness as police business.
I need to get out of here.
Now.
I turn my body toward the last few stragglers looking to grab a girl for a slow dance. Maybe if he thinks I’ve moved on with someone else, he’ll leave. It’s wishful thinking, but I don’t know what else to do.
Jim yanks me into his chest. “The owner of the art gallery says you stole a diamond-encrusted antique teaspoon that’s been in his family for centuries.”
My heart skips a beat. Lafayette trumped up a charge of theft? Shivers run up and down my spine at the prospect of going to jail.
“H-He’s just making it up out of revenge because I threatened to report his shady business practices,” I say.
“We have video evidence of you at the scene of the crime.”
“What?”
“Look at me, bitch.” He grabs my chin and forces a glare into my eyes, his pale blue irises narrowing as his pupils dilate. “You’re facing jail time for assault, vandalism, destruction of property, and the theft of a valuable object.”
My stomach lurches. Technically, I’m guilty of the first two, maybe even three. The camera must have caught me upending his desk covered in knickknacks and a fancy tea set containing hot liquid. Depending on the angle the footage was shot, it wouldn’t be a stretch to frame me for the theft of an imaginary spoon.
Cold sweat breaks out across my skin and trickles down the back of my neck. Anything is better than returning to the house where he kept me prisoner.
“There’s a patrol car waiting outside to take you in, but I can make it go away,” Jim says, his gaze dropping to my lips. “Just say the word.”
Revulsion ripples through my gut. The thought of what this monster will demand in return for a favor makes me gag. I can’t face him or his abuse. Not now. Not ever.
Death would be better than being beaten, violated, and held captive.
Stepping backward, I gather up enough courage to say, “I’d rather rot in jail than go back to being your punching bag.”
He bares his teeth, a sign that I’ve pushed him too far. “You’re talking a lot of shit for someone who’s soon about to be alone in a cell with a broken camera.” Lowering his voice, he adds, “Do you know how many overdosed whores we find in the morning choked to death on their vomit?”
Every fine hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Jim has done a lot of heinous shit in the past, but he’s never threatened to inject me with drugs. The venom in his stare tells me he’s enjoying my terror, and he can’t wait to have me arrested and at his mercy.
I need to get the fuck away.
Or think of a way to make me less of a target.
“It’s too late, Jim,” I say, gathering every ounce of my imagined strength. “I already have a new man. And he’s powerful.”
He flinches, his fingers loosening. Maybe he didn’t think I would survive without him, but I take advantage of his momentary surprise to twist out of Jim’s grasp and stumble back toward the edge of the dance floor. His face goes cold, and I swear the whites of his eyes turn redder.
How could I have been so blind not to see this maniac’s red flags?
“You don’t have a new man.” He curls his lip, his features a rictus of contempt.
“He’s here in the VIP section, watching me dance,” I reply, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
Jim flicks his head toward the cordoned-off space. “Prove it.”
My insides churn with a sickening sense of dread. Things are only going to get worse for me when Jim catches me in a lie. He’s already detailed my impending cause of death. If I don’t produce this mystery boyfriend, Jim might carry out his threat.
I can’t let that happen. Jim needs to believe I’m no longer vulnerable and alone.
One of the vultures hanging around us will have to play the part of my new lover. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a large figure approach. Perfect.