Page 86 of Ruthless Savage

He falls to the ground with a loud thud.

One remains between me and Mason feckin’ Reynolds.

“Hey, you there?” The other one starts heading for my direction. “What the fuck you doing?”

I’m waiting there with a pistol pointing right at his head when he appears.

“What the…” Before his hand even reaches his waistband, a bullet rips between his eyes.

I brush past his dead body and head for the bastard who dared to hurt her.

Guess he thought I was bluffing when I warned him to keep his hands to himself. He’s going to learn that I’m a man who keeps his word.

I know Mason is home. Only identified one body inside with my motion detection device.

Removing a keycard from one of the guards, I use it to scan the door and let myself in the back, careful to shut the door quietly. I already know where Mason is: past the long foyer, sitting in the den on his laptop.

He doesn’t hear me as I start toward him from behind.

My gun is pointing at the back of his head. “Do you remember what I said to you at the diner?”

His body jolts as he turns his neck and stares right at me, laptop plummeting to the floor. He doesn’t appear afraid. Not yet. He’s used to making others afraid of him.

“What the hell are you doing here? My guards will have your head!”

I chuckle as I round the sofa, the pistol in my grasp. “Unfortunately for you, they’re all dead.”

“Wh-what? You killed them? Are you insane?! Do you know what I’ll do to you?” He mashes his teeth.

“I asked you a bloody question, arsehole! Do you recall what I said to you when you touched her at the diner?”

“I don’t care!” His fingers curl on his thigh. “Get the hell out of my house before I get the police. If you leave now, I’ll tell the cops it was a robbery.”

I continue to glare. “Seems you have a faulty memory. I told you that if you touched her again, you’d see what I’d do to your hand.”

His fingers slowly slip under the sofa cushion, and I know immediately what he plans to do. But I let him, knowing he won’t be able to take a shot before I do.

As soon as he removes a pistol, I pull the trigger, and a bullet rips right through his hand.

“Fuck!” he screams a deafening sound, his weapon falling to his feet.

I fling over my string bag from my back. The one carrying a cordless reciprocating saw.

“Please!” he begs, his eyes pleading as I remove it. “Wha-what are you gonna do with that?”

He gets up and runs.

“That was a big mistake.” I release a groan, chasing him before I throw him onto the floor, settling over his body.

I grab the hand I shot and flip on the saw. The echoing sound makes the hairs on his arm stand up.

He cries real tears.

Now we’re talking…

“Hold still.” A smile flips up the corner of my mouth.

“Please, man. Please don’t do this!” He fights me, shouting for help to no avail.

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