Page 118 of Ruthless Savage

“How are we gonna get her here and all dressed up?” he asks.

“I have no idea. But I’m thinkin’ maybe Iseult can somehow help with that.”

“Aye. My daughter has a creative imagination.” He chuckles. “Man, I love weddings. Don’t you?”

I shrug. “Never had a reason to. Not until now.”

“Yeah, these women, they just have a way of doing that, don’t they?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I know you will do right by my daughter. You always have.”

And I always will.

As soon as I get past Mason’s security—again—and knock on his door, his eyes bug out. I almost feel sorry for him, standing there behind a flimsy glass door, trembling and backing away, holding out that one good hand, the other wrapped in thick gauze.

Nah, don’t feel bad at all. He had it coming.

I fire a bullet into the doorknob, destroying the lock and stepping over one of his guards as I walk in.

“Hey, how’s the hand?”

“P-please. I—I haven’t called her! I haven’t seen her. So get out!”

I shut the door behind me with my foot and lean against it. “How did you hurt your hand there?”

His brows snap, and he swallows thickly. “Burglary. That’s what I said to everyone. I won’t talk. I swear!”

“That’s good. Wouldn’t want whoever did that to come back and take more. It’d be a real shame to lose another fine hand. Don’t you think?”

He starts crying, really crying. Ask me if I care.

“I came to tell you that Patrick is calling off the engagement. It’s over. You’re not to come near my wife, you understand me?”

“Your what?”

“You heard me. I’m marrying her.”

He has the balls to laugh. “Oh man, I knew it! You wanted to fuck her the whole time, didn’t you? I told her I had a feeling about you.”

It’s like he’s asking for a bullet in his head.

“Did you fuck her already? Was she as tight as I imagined?”

That’s it.

Feck it.

My tight fist lands square into his nose, and I swear I hear a crack.

“Shit!” he yells, holding on to it with his left hand, blood dripping in between his fingers.

With a dry chuckle, I open the door and start to head out.

“You seem to attract a lot of burglaries,” I tell him over my shoulder. “I’d maybe switch up my security.” I glance down at the dead guard. “Doesn’t look like they do a good job.”

I leave him behind, but I know I’ll see him again soon, and he will tell me everything he knows about the Palmers.

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