Page 102 of Sixth Sin

Violet’s face blanches. “Oh my God. That was you.” Her expression shifts from indignation to fear. “You did kill that photographer.”

Shit. Now I have to take care of this problem, too.

“I didn’t say that. However, people get what they deserve.” Bracing my palm by her head, I lean in close. “You go poking around in other people’s business, don’t be surprised if they poke back.”

Her voice shakes as she lifts her chin. “You got what you wanted. Leave her alone.”

“No. Now go away before I call security.”

“This isn’t over, McCallum,” she warns, backing away. “You can’t just threaten me and walk away.”

I flip my middle finger over my shoulder as I walk toward the glass door. “I just did.”

The minute the elevator door opens, I feel it. That stirring in my blood. The kick in my pulse. The rush in my ears. It’s bloodlust and it’s hungry.

Since it’s Saturday, Rosten’s door is wide open. Naturally, I accept the invitation, barreling in with guns blazing.

He’s standing by the wall of glass, staring out over his kingdom with his back to me. “Dominic. What can I do for you?”

Darkness beckons me. It’s where I belong. The moment a man in an Italian suit led me to a black SUV, I sold my soul to it. Served it. Bent to it. I did its bidding and never looked back.

Except one time a pair of sad green eyes brought me into the light. One time I sewed an angel’s wings back on and set her free.

I’ll be damned if I’ll let it all be for nothing.

I charge toward him, crashing both of us against the glass. Grabbing his tie, I wind it around my fist. “You can tell me what the hell you think you’re doing to Alexandra.”

“I’m making her a star,” he croaks.

“I meant your little private sessions, you sick fuck. How long have they been going on?”

His face starts to turn purple, and his mouth opens and closes like a fish. While the visual amuses me, I need the fucker to talk, so I loosen my grip.

“Alexandra needs special training.” He coughs as he tugs on his collar. “A firm hand, if you will.”

Letting out an inhuman roar, I pull my arm back and punch him in the face, his nose exploding into red rivulets.

His hands fly to his face. “You son of a—”

I grab him by the throat and drive my knee into his gut, cutting him off. Pulling my gun from behind my jacket, I slam him against the glass again while shoving the barrel under his chin. “Tell me I’m a son of a bitch now, you cocksucker.”

“How did you get that through the metal detector?”

“I used to fuck one of the guards. Nice girl. Bad lay. Next question.”

Even with a bullet ready to blow his head off, he smirks. “This was a costly mistake. We had a deal.”

I shove the gun deeper into his throat. “Fuck your deal. I agreed to get Alexandra to sign your contract, not suck your dick.”

“But she’s so good at it.”

“Motherfucker!” I drive my knee into his gut again and again. Eventually, the only thing keeping him upright is my hand around his throat.

“You also realize,” he wheezes, “this nullifies our agreement about your mother.”

“My mother is—”

“Being supported by your whore. I know. How many times have I told you, McCallum? I own Wyatt Everly and every son of a bitch in that hospital. I don’t care if Alexandra buys the whole damn wing. My word is God.” He smiles again, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Poor Brenda. How will she ever fare on the streets?”

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