Night Huntress 02.5 - Happily Never After by Jeaniene Frost Page A

gestured with their guns for Chance to sit on the aft bench, which he did, stretching his legs before settling down comfortably.
     
    After about twenty minutes of glaring at him while the boat navigated the waterway, Robert spoke.
     
    "So, what's your name?"
     
    "Chance."
     
    Robert grunted. "Bullshit. What's your real name?"
     
    "Ask your men. Didn't they find any identification when they rummaged through my pockets the other night?"
     
    "You know fucking well you didn't have a scrap of ID on you that night. Plus, Paul and Ritchie tell me you must've been wearing Kevlar, on account of you bein ' here instead of resting in plastic under six feet of dirt. What I want to know is, what kind of a man walks around with no ID while wearing Kevlar? Seems pretty paranoid to me."
     
    Chance shrugged. "If you say so."
     
    Paul leaned in and shouted in Chance's face. "Answer the question, asshole!"
     
    "Quit pissing me off," Robert said in a more mild tone. "In my current mood, I have no intention of letting you off this boat alive, so you're gonna need to work to change my mind."
     
    That was meant to scare Chance, but he found it ironic instead.
     
    "I can personally guarantee that I won't be getting off this boat alive," he replied.
     
    "He's insane," Ritchie said in wonder. "Look at him. Thinks he can smart-mouth his way out of anything."
     
    Paul held up a length of chain. "See this?" he asked, rattling it for effect before he began to wrap it around Chance. "We bought this in case things went south with the Salucci brothers. This is fifty pounds of steel. I'm going to tie you up with it and then lock it around you."
     
    Chance glanced down at the chains as Paul began carrying out his threat. If it made them feel more secure… and the more time they wasted trussing him up, the further along the river they were getting. How convenient. He wouldn't have to worry about anyone overhearing screams.
     
    "You're tryin ' my patience," Robert growled. "Now, I'm gonna ask you again, and you'd better cut the shit. What's your name? Your real name?"
     
    Chance did have another name, of course. The one he'd been born with well over a hundred years ago, but even though it would be of no use to Robert, he still refused to utter it.
     
    "Chance is the only name you're getting out of me."
     
    Robert jerked his head at Ritchie, who left his position looming over Chance to go around the side of the boat. When he came back minutes later, he was wheeling a large bucket on a dolly filled with something gray and grainy.
     
    Chance closed his eyes, but only so the others didn't see him roll them with annoyance. Couldn't they do anything original?
     
    "Cement," Robert supplied, though Chance already knew that. "You keep it up with your smart mouth and that bucket's gonna be your new pair of shoes. There's no getting out of this one. You talk, or I'm gonna shove your chained, cemented ass off this boat. Hell, I'll even let Paul shoot you in the head first, 'cause I know he's itchin ' to."
     
    Chance winced. Head shots hurt like hell, silver or no silver. He knew he'd have a terrific headache for about ten minutes while everything knit back into place. Damned melodramatic mobsters , he thought irritably. He was eating every last one of them before this whole mess was finished!
     
    But first things first.
     
    Robert watched him with an inscrutable expression. "There's only one thing that'll stop all this unpleasantness from becoming a reality." He leaned forward until his nose was almost touching Chance's. "Tell me where Frazier is, and I'll let you live."
     
    Chance's eyebrows went up. Well . He hadn't been expecting that.
     
    "You're the one using Frazier to blackmail Isabella into marrying you, and yet you're telling me you don't know where he is?"
     
    Robert whipped him across the head with the butt of his gun. Chance's fangs nearly popped out on their own accord with the desire to bury themselves into Robert's oh-so-deliciously