Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

N A T
K
age is silent as he drives. His hands are steady
on the wheel. His posture is relaxed, his
attitude is composed.
It’s obvious that I’m the only one in the car who’s freaking
out.
My words come in a breathless rush. “What happened?
Why did the shooting start?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll find out.”
“Sloane?”
“She’s fine. Stavros has her. And he’ll protect her with his
life.” His chuckle is dark.
“Why is that funny?”
He glances over at me. “Because he knows if he doesn’t
and she winds up with so much as a scratch, he and his entire
family will pay the price.”
“Which means…you’ll kill them.”
“Yes. In a very unpleasant way.”
I wish my heartbeat would settle down. It’s extremely hard
to concentrate when you’re trying not to have a heart attack.
He examines my face, then glances back at the road. “Take
slow, deep breaths.”
“Why?”
“You’re hyperventilating.”