Their Runaway Mate

Chapter Eight

Looking up, I met the self-satisfied eyes of the creep who cornered me in the diner before trying to give me a botched nose job. My own eyes narrowed in response, anger rising above the panic momentarily as I considered the unfairness of this whole situation. Somehow, I had ended up paying the price for Sara's bad financial literacy.

He seemed to enjoy the anger he found in my eyes as his own danced in amusement. A small smirk worked its way onto his face before he straightened himself up to his full height and smoothed the wrinkles out of his cheap suit.

Whilst I wanted nothing more than to sneer in disdain and reel off some of my favourite insults, I steeled myself and thought more wisely.

Planting a fearful and shocked expression on my face (which wasn't too hard considering I was currently tied up in some sort of dungeon), I started my efforts to dig myself out of this mess.

"Why do you keep calling me Ellie? My name is Alice. I don't know anything about Sara's loan! I thought she'd paid it off, I swear!" I said loudly, panicked breaths punctuating my words.

A sharp slap forced my head to turn, and I cried out, the bitter taste of blood instantly filling my mouth. Tears stung my eyes and I cautiously turned back to look at the man, wary of another hit.

"Now, now. None of that. You're not here for Sara's money and you know it. Have a bit of respect and stop treating us as amateurs." He said, slight anger starting to bleed through the cracks of his confident persona.

He was obviously trying to compensate for something. The cheap suit, false bravado, and little quip about being amateurs told me enough. They were obviously in way over their heads, not aware of who I really was or the truth behind who was after me. That didn't help me that much though considering they still had all the power. Just maybe not all the answers.

"Who are you?" I asked quietly, understanding that they wouldn't tolerate anymore denial and not keen on taking another slap. I could feel blood dripping from my lip, the start of a bruised cheek causing my face to ache; he really got me good.

"You know who I am." Is all he replied.

"You work for the Roys." I stated unsurely, not sure what position he held.

The man laughed.

"My name's Jackson Roy. I run the Roy family." He was more than happy to correct my mistake.

My shoulders slumped in understanding of how far up shit's creek I was. This seemed like some sort of sick joke. After all these years of running, being so incredibly careful, I had somehow ended up being entangled in some low-life drug family's shit. Tears streamed silently down my face as I realised this was going to be my lot in life.

"Now, I'd like some answers from you. It's up to you how easy we make it. However, if you continue to be stubborn, I have some boys who are quite gifted in drawing information out of people, and I'd hate to see your pretty face spoiled more than it already is." Jackson drawled. Despite my fear, I had to stop myself from cringing at the cliché of his little speech.

Taking my silence as an answer, he continued. "Tell me, why are the Cole brothers after you?"

I balked in confusion, having no idea who he was referring to? Had I pissed off some rival gang of his accidentally?

"What? Who?" I questioned; genuine uncertainty clear in my tone.

Another slap. This one to my other cheek, whipping my head to my left. I couldn't feel any blood this time, but my jaw ached from the unexpected force.

"I thought we were past this act. Tell me." Jackson ground out, losing patience quickly.

"I don't know who you're talking about! Please!" I said, small hiccupping sobs immediately followed as the panic started crawling back up my throat. If I couldn't give them what they wanted, they were going to hurt me. Really bad. Tears started falling continuously, my body starting to shake in small tremors as I fixed my gaze on Jackson's angry face, pleading.