Page 75 of Red My Lips

“Baby—”

“Call me that again, I dare you.” The threat in my tone couldn’t be more clear, or less empty.

“Jill,” he growls, frustration evident, “let me—”

“Another word, and I’ll cut out your fucking tongue!” The rage in my voice builds with my volume until the last two words lash out violently, punctuated by my hands slamming down on the desk between us. Anger surges through me until I’m shaking. I suck in a harsh breath and close my eyes.

Taking a moment, I force myself to reign in the fury engulfing my entire being. The potent need to see the life draining out of him, to feel his last shuttering breath, is all-consuming.

Desperately needing something to ground me, I reach into my back pocket and pull out my knife. The sound of the blade clicking open is calming enough for me to see through the blinding rage and shelve my lethal urges.

If I kill Gage, this will be over way too quickly. As much as I want to—and I really want to—I have other plans for him.

Letting out a calmer breath, my body shifts from fiery hostility into cold contempt. When I open my eyes, I settle my frigid glare on him. The arctic breeze coming from my icy death glare could give the man frostbite—and I hope it does.

Gage’s gaze on me is swimming in such deep yearning that it threatens to swallow me whole. The muscle in his clenched jaw ticks tellingly in his tortured silence.

“I don’t know what’s more disappointing—the fact that I let you convince me that I could trust you, or that you turned out to be the worst life lesson I’ve ever had to learn.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. This changes nothing.”

“This changes everything.”

“Your brother wasn’t who you thought he was.”

“Tommy was flawed and fucked up, but he was my brother—my family.” I raise my knife and point it at him. “You’re the one I got wrong. You were my mistake.”

“Hit me,” Gage demands, tossing his phone onto the desk. His large hands fist the material of his shirt and, with one hard pull, he tears it down the middle until it hangs in nothing but tatters before spreading his arms out wide. “Punch me, cut me. Slice me open and gut me until I’m nothing but a pile of skin and bones. Destroy me.” He takes a step forward until the tip of my knife is pressing into his skin.

I inch closer, allowing the tip of the blade to pierce the skin of his chest. Watching the bead of blood spring to the surface has me pressing harder, dragging the blade across the brawny flesh. Gage stands still as a statue as I carve my initials over his heart. I don’t stop until I’ve left a permanent mark, ugly and twisted, on his heart.

Just like he did to mine.

Blood drips down his ink-covered chest, but it’s not enough. Not even close. I pull my gaze away from the carnage to the eyes that have been burning a hole through my skull. Gage’s dark gaze stares down at me, eyes trying to suck my soul straight out of my body. I stare back, unmoved and unblinking.

“Sit down.” I gesture to the chair behind his desk.

“I was going to tell you everything.” Gage says, and his words have white-hot anger flashing through me.

“Sit. Down,” I seethe.

He obeys without another word, sitting in the desk chair. His unrelenting eyes track me as I walk over with the zip-ties I pulled out of my bag. Using two ties per arm, I cinch his wrists to the arms of the chair—pulling the ties so tight that they dig into his skin.

I don’t want him getting out of these too soon, and I want them to hurt until he does.

“I can only imagine how dumb you think I am. You didn’t even bother to hide the bracelet in the safe. Not like all that cash you have piled up in there.”

“Take it, all of it,” Gage’s voice is so rough with desperation that I almost don’t recognize it.

“Oh, I’ve already helped myself. The contents of the safe are the least you can do. But don’t worry, I left you a little something to remember me by,” I say flatly. “Figuring out the combination was too easy—the day we met? Not very original. Then again, I fell for all of your bullshit, so you never expected me to figure anything out, did you?”

“This isn’t over, Jill. Don’t for a second kid yourself thinking it is.”

I ignore his statement, watching as the blood drips from my mark on his inked chest until it disappears into the waistband of his pants. I could kill him—right here, right now. It’s what he wants. But that would be an act of grace, and I have no intention of showing him any mercy.

None.

“You know what the only consolation in all of this is? That you had it. You finally got what you really wanted in the deepest part of you. You had me. Because I fell for you, so hard, and so completely—without abandon. I fell for you in ways you could have only dreamed about. You had me.” The malice in my tone is almost palpable. “And now, that’s gone. Done. You’ll go the rest of your life knowing exactly what it felt like to have everything you wanted and then lose it. Forever.”

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