Page 111 of Exposed

Well, fuck him.

Blackness dots the edges of my vision.

But I never say a word as the punches rain down.

Rangers lead the way.

The words tumble over and over in my head, replacing the one that will stop this.

My head lolls. I drift in and out of consciousness.

But I never break.

“That’s enough. Off with the hood,” Dex demands.

I squint when the light hits my swollen eyes. Rand stands in front of me, staring down with a fucking satisfied look on his face.

I spit blood.

It lands with a splat on his trousers.

Rand rears back to come at me again, when Dex catches his forearm. “I said that’s enough.”

I’m breathing hard as I mutter, “I’m not sure what in the fuck you’re looking for, Dex, but I hope you’re happy.”

Dex pushes Rand to the side and stands in front of me. “One can never be too careful in business, right? My trust isn’t gained easily.”

“If this is some type of fucking initiation, I passed. I’ve got planes and boats and runners, but other than that I take care of my own business. Not sure what you hoped to accomplish by beating the shit out of me.”

A satisfied expression settles into the crevices of his lined face and he bends at the waist to glare at me. “Just making sure you are who you say you are.”

“Who else would I fucking be?” I yell and pull on my restraints. “Have your dogs cut me loose, Carter. This works both ways. If I have to worry about you jumping me at every pickup, you can find someone else to do your laundry. I’m not going to put up with this shit.”

Dex proves he doesn’t get his hands dirty and takes three steps back before he orders, “Let him go and get him the cash.”

Rand grabs the duffle as I hear a switchblade flip open behind me. The metal slides next to my skin as they cut the tape. It tears the skin at my chest before they go to my feet and finally my hands.

I sway when I stand, and internally groan when I have to bend to pick up my fake ID, keys, and cell. I slip the ripped dress shirt up my arms. I feel it in every muscle of my body and leave it hanging open. I blot the blood from my mouth with the trashed shirt and have to squint out my left eye that’s quickly swelling.

Dex crosses his arms. “I can’t wait to see my money show up in my account—fresh, clean, and legitimate.”

Rand zips the duffle and tosses it. I catch it before it lands inmy chest with a thud. I open it, do a rough count of the bundles of hundreds, and zip it back up.

But I don’t leave or run out the door.

I drop the bag at my feet.

Then I ignore every bruise, ache, and taste of blood that motherfucker just inflicted on me.

All I can think about is the way he looks at Goldie.

I charge him, grip the collar of his shirt in one hand and hold him where I want him.

Then I give him a taste of what he gave me.

Rand crumples to the ground with a thud.

He’s on all fours when I lean over him. “You even glance in Goldie’s direction again, I will fucking end you. I don’t give a shit who you work for.”

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