Keira hoped Randy was idiotic enough to give the phone back to Nate so that her companion in this non-consensual bondage could call someone for help.
Preferably the police.
'Hah, as if,' she thought not a second later.
If given a choice, Nate would never call the police for help. Hell, knowing the distrust and heated dislike he holds against the state's law enforcer, a mafia lord like Nate would rather be dead.
Keira stifled her defeated sigh.
With the fragile-looking phone that surely cost her more than a year's rent, Randy searched through the contact list. Randy gripped the phone so tightly in his hand that she feared it would break in half.
She wondered what he found to warrant his pierced eyebrows to furrow heavily. He seemed to remember that he needed the phone, relaxing a little.
Then, unceremoniously, he shoved the lit-up screen to Nate's face. "What the hell is this?"
