Crescendo - B*M* Book #1 SAMPLE

Chapter 1 | Oil

"Let's play a game," Vinny declares in a voice that makes me shiver. I know that tone all too well. Bile creeps up the back of my throat and oddly enough the thought of ruining my sweater with puke is even worse than what already stains it now. "Tell me again what happened—from the beginning. The bastard who tells the least amount of lies wins."

There's this painful moment of silence. The men share a look that resembles the wary expressions of two animals shoved into a cage and forced to fight to the death. Which one was the lion, which one the gazelle?

The one with the busted jaw speaks up first, or at least he tries to. "We were just screwing around. We didn't—"

"First lie," Vinny interjects.

I can't breathe. My throat contracts in an attempt to choke down air, but the action doesn't relieve the pressure building in my chest. Lying was another one of our childhood games. It wasn't played quite as often as Tic Tac Toe or Red Rover, but often enough to recognize the way he crouches forward, bracing both hands against his desk. He's got that cold, dark gleam in his eye. The same one that made him seem so powerful, even as a child. His parents may have been immigrants. His family may have been dirt poor. He may have had a slight limp on his left side caused by a birth defect and a lisp that affected his speech.

None of that mattered when you met his gaze head-on. His eyes held a darkness that swallowed you whole—the worst part? A part of you wanted to be swallowed: you were stupid enough to be comforted by the shadows.

"That was the first lie," he repeats. His fingers dance around the surface of the gun until they find the safety. He flips it off noisily so that they hear the clip engage. "Let's make things interesting. Next one to lie gets a bullet through his eye."

The two men don't look at each other this time. They shift on their feet. The one with the busted jaw glances at me, as if he wants me to say something. They were just playing around, after all... When they cornered me in an alley and tried to rip my shirt off, it was just all fun and games.

I should be thankful for what will come next. There's a cut on my chin and blood dribbling down onto my scalloped collar. I can taste dirt and grit from when they tried to hold me face down and pull my pants off.

I should want Vinny to blow their brains out all over his priceless, antique rug. Maybe, a few years ago, I wouldn't have cared, back when I'd been younger and stupid enough to mistake his aggression for love or kindness.

But now I know the truth. Men like the two sniffling before me are nothing more than predators. They hunt and stalk and gleefully devour their prey in the shadows—but not all predators deserve to be torn apart by the Big Bad Wolf.

"Any takers?" Vinny gives them another five minutes to decide. The seconds tick by like hours, long enough for stupid, irrelevant concerns to take precedence. I'm tired. All I want to do is crawl into bed and blast Bach until I fall asleep. I want to eat my leftover Thai food with extra hot sauce. I want...

"Time's up." Vinny pulls himself upright to all six foot, seven inches of his height. The movement displays the muscles that ripple in his forearms, straining the sleeves of his suit jacket. "This isn't very sportsmanlike. "Daniela? Would you like to give us an idea of what really happened?" His tone is crisp with impatience.

"Vinny..." I trail off. I want to sleep. I want to eat Thai. I don't want to play this game anymore. My side hurts from connecting with the pavement. There are dark circles under my eyes, I know, from staying up all night playing until my fingers bled. I'd give anything to play now, to lose myself in the cadence of the music.

"Daniela?" Vinny points the gun in my direction; not at me, exactly. He trains the barrel over the framed photograph of an Italian villa hanging behind my head. It's a warning. "What happened?"