Page 46 of Cruel Devil

The dead Donny they came from.

Chapter 16

Savage

It’s only been ten minutes when the feeling that had been growing in my gut becomes too intense to ignore anymore. And it’s not just me. When I take out my phone and message Samuel, Vito doesn’t even protest. Maybe he’s just as worried about Nyx as I am, or maybe he can’t stand me scowling anymore.

He takes out a pair of Tauruses—Dolce and Gabbana—and puts them in the glove compartment. After a pause, I put my Beretta in there too. No one’s going to let us through the door with guns. Every man entering the club is patted down first.

“We gonna wait for backup before we go inside?”

“I can show you which direction they went,” Andy says, grabbing the top of Vito’s seat to pull herself closer. “And if you give me a gun?—”

Vito holds up his hand. “You’re not going back inside, babe.”

“Ex-cuse me?” Her voice could have ushered in a new ice age.

“It’s gonna be dangerous.”

“Let me guess. You assume just because I’m a woman that I can’t handle?—“

“None of you are going inside,” I say, interrupting what sounds like the start of a fantastic argument. They’ve had several today, and I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but I get the feeling they enjoy yelling at each other. “I’m going alone. I’ll let you know when to send in backup…if I need it.”

“No ways I’m letting you—“ Vito begins.

I turn to him, grab the back of his neck, squeeze. My voice is a threateningly deep growl. “People could get hurt. Innocent people.”

Vito’s gaze flicks to me, then he nods stiffly. “No backup.”

Andy sits back in her seat, eyes wide, lips tight. “She went down a passage next to the restroom. Looked like a staff only area. There’s a red exit sign above the entrance to the hallway.”

There’s a moment of silence in the cab.

I turn to meet her eyes. “Thanks, Andy.”

“You gotta let me come,” Vito whines. “You’re not even dressed right.”

“And you are?” I glance at his clothes, noticing them for the first time today. “Jesus, you are.”

He’s wearing a navy blue suit, a tan knit polo, and two-toned loafers. I glance down at my leather jacket and the same dirt-and-dust stained jeans from when I chased down said wife at the Zen Garden. It’s still got my cum on it, and a few streaks on the thigh where she’d pleasured herself while holding a knife to my throat.

Vito flattens his lips when I meet his eyes again. “Yeah. You wouldn’t even make it past the door.” He stabs a thumb over his shoulder. “Let me get my bag out the back.”

I grunt in sour defeat, already stripping off my jacket as I climb out the car. Vito hands me a dark blazer and a button-up shirt. I slide into the blazer, ignoring him when he sighs as I hand back the shirt.

“Your jeans are?—”

“Fine.” I flick away the cigarette I’d been smoking. “Let’s go.”

“I was going to say disgusting,” he mutters as he hurries to catch up with me. “Think I don’t know those are jizz stains?”

“Your pants are too tight.”

“Tailored. They’re tailored. Just let me do the talking, okay? And stay far enough back that they can’t see that fucking scowl of yours.”

We cross the road, and I reluctantly let Vito take the lead. I’ll be the first to admit he’s more diplomatic than me. If one of those bouncers even looks like they want to stop me getting in, I’ll put a fucking bullet in their head.

If Patrick’s put a single bruise or scrape on my wife, I’m going to make him watch while I feed slices of his face to my dogs.

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