Page 51 of Primal
“Can you message Finn and let him know where we are?” I ask as William flips on his hazard lights and stops before the church.
“As soon as I park, ma’am,” he responds. Owen slides from the SUV and opens my door to escort me into the church. William turns off the hazard lights and pulls away from the curb as Owen lags behind me, making my way up the steps.
“Please head inside,” Owen urges, his eyes following a black SUV trailing closely behind William.
Suddenly, they ram into the back of our Suburban, prompting William to stop. The moment he steps from the Suburban to survey the damage, two loud pops echo down the street, and my heart stops. A shrill scream rises from my lungs as I watch William crumple to the pavement. In shock, I can’t comprehend what’s happening and what danger I’m in.
“Inside!” Owen shouts as he races up the steps to close the distance between us. Wrapping his arm around me when he reaches me, he pulls me into him and shrouds me with his body as he drags me up the steps. He shoves me through the door of the church and expels a pained grunt as he stumbles in behind me. Forcing himself to his feet, he grabs at his back and unconvincingly winces. “I’m fine, ma’am. We have to get you inside.”
A deafening bang echoes through the church, and my blood runs cold as I watch Owen’s head blow across the door. “No, you aren’t.” A gruff Russian accent startles me from the threshold of the narthex as I slap my hand over my mouth to hold back my need to both vomit and scream.
Spinning around, I find a gun pointed at my face. Ink-covered hands are wrapped around it. My eyes continue down the heavily tattooed arms to find a massive man with a tinge of gray in his hair. His dark eyes meet mine, and he gruffs, “And neither are you.”
My phone rings in my purse as he grabs my arm and roughly pulls me through the narthex, where other men and Uncle Sean are waiting.
“Catlin,” Uncle Sean painfully cries as I’m shoved into the nave. His bloody face is dripping over his shirt, and his left eye has swollen almost completely shut.
“You should’ve just called her. It would’ve saved you a lot of pain.” The Russian snarls at Uncle Sean as he wraps his arm around my throat. Tightening his grip, he pulls me into him with my back against his chest. He runs the cold barrel of his gun along my jaw, forcing me to turn my face toward him. As I stare into his cold, dark eyes, he continues moving the gun down my neck and around the swell of my breast. His touch runs chills down my spine, but his words turn my blood into ice. “I’ve been dreaming about getting my hands on you.”
My phone rings again, and the Russian rips my purse from hand and tosses it to one of the other men. He rifles through my bag, pulls out my phone, and holds the screen toward the man holding me. “It’s Finnigan.”
“Send it to voicemail,” the Russian commands, still traversing his gun down my body. When it rests between my thighs, he whispers, “I didn’t get my chance with the bar whore, but I fully intend to make up for that with you. And when I’m done fucking ruining you, I’ll let my boys have a turn. When they’re done, we’llcall your little boyfriend to see what we’ve done to you before we kill him.”
Owen’s phone rings, echoing from the vestibule, and I struggle to find the courage to spit, “That’s Finn, making sure I got here okay.”
“The idiotic man who fucked anything with two legs and cunt is fucking obsessed with you, huh?” he taunts, squeezing my throat harder as he continues to rub his gun between my thighs. Bile rises higher in my throat with every word that passes over his lips. “That little pussy of yours must be something spectacular.”
My phone rings again, and the Russian gestures at the man holding it. As he walks closer, the Russian takes his gun from my thighs and rams it against my cheek, warning, “I’ll blow your fucking pretty face across this church if you do anything stupid.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
FINNIGAN
Sitting in front of the main stage of The Onyx with Conor, I sip my glass of whiskey as I repeatedly turn down offers for lap dances and trips to the Champagne Room. Not only is it not what I’m here for, I’m also not interested. The only woman I want rubbing her tits in my face and grinding—preferably pantyless—over my lap is Catlin.
Conor, on the other hand, is currently wearing the perfume and glitter of about ten different strippers and is impatiently waiting for the pretty little brunette on stage to slide onto his lap.
Her ass overtly swaying with every step, Mandy saunters over to the two of us with a tray of drinks. “Sorry, Finnie.” She helps herself to my thigh and takes a seat as she places our drinks on the small table between me and Conor. “But you haven’t let a woman touch you since the two of you got here, and considering you’ve fucked half of them, you look suspicious as fuck.”
“Told you,” Conor chimes as the petite brunette climbs from the stage and slides over his thighs. “I’m just blending.”
Knowing they’re both right, I place my hand on the small of Mandy’s back and uncomfortably rub it over her hip as she sits on my thigh.
“Fuck, Finnie,” she snarks. “Could you be any more awkward? Most married guys come in here so hungry for pussy they can’t keep their hands off the talent.”
“Trust me, that man gets more pussy now than he did when he was single.” Conor laughs into the perky tits spilling against his face. “But fuck, if I had a girl who was as fucking hot as his, I’d be inside her all the time, too.”
“For fuck’s sake, Conor,” I huff as the girl on his lap whispers something into his ear. A devilish smirk spreads across his face as she slides from his lap.
“Keep it in your pants, big boy,” Mandy teases. “Because she’s the girl. The one dating the Russian.”
“Oh, fuck!” Conor huffs. “You couldn’t have shared that before she offered to let me fuck her?”
“It’s a revenge fuck,” she informs him. “Her boyfriend blew her off tonight, so now she wants to fuck some stranger to piss him off.”
“Cat isn’t expecting me until nine,” I inform him, glancing at my watch. “I’ve got at least five minutes before we need to go. That should be more than enough time for you to take her for a ride at least twice.”
“Fuck, if that’s all it takes you, no wonder Cat’s always eyeing me up,” he teases, just to piss me off.And it works.“Besides, I’d rather go home and wank off to Cat so I can call you and tell you all about it.”