Page 63 of Ruthless Rebel

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is in his hand,” Harry whispers with a gag, taking a deep breath in through his nose.

“Zack said you needed a clean up,” Landon cuts in, pushing past Harry, and surveying the scene. “Are you done?”

Flicking my gaze to what’s left of BIlly I nod. “Yeah, I’m done.” Then I move round the desk, abandoning his body and my weapons,and leaving with the only thing I came for.

I stop in the kitchen on my way out, searching the cupboards until I find what I need, and then I am out the front door, nodding at a couple more of Zack’s team as I pass, heading back the same way I came. When I reach the car, I drive with only one place in mind, and when I pull up at my regular late night shop of choice, I flick my gaze around to ensure the parking lot is empty, before I make my way inside.

Making my way up and down the aisles, I scan the shelves until I find what I am looking for and then head to the counter, nodding my head to Peter, the owner. I toss down the candy, pulling out some bills, and when my eyes meet his, I find him staring at me in disbelief.

“Don’t ask, Peter,” I tell him quietly, and the old man smirks.

“Trust me, Mr. Donovan, when it comes to you, I never will.”

Peter’s a smart man, much smarter than Billy was.

By the time I make it back to the penthouse it’s past 2am, and I know Lincoln will still be sleeping, so I slip inside quietly, dropping my things on the nightstand, and sliding back into the chair I vacated earlier. I know I should sleep, but the adrenaline is still pumping through my veins, and all I can do is watch and wait, until the man in my bed wakes up.

31

LINCOLN

My entire body is drenched in sweat as it stirs to life, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to my surroundings, and for me to remember where I am. I’m at the penthouse, in Asher Donovan’s bed, and the man in question is still sitting in the chair, glaring at me. The room is dark, darker than when I went to sleep, and from experience I can tell it must be around 3am, but from the looks of things, Ash hasn’t attempted any kind of sleep.

I attempt to move, and pain lances through my torso and I groan, alerting Ash to my being awake. I shift onto my back as he leans sideways and flicks on the lamp on the bedside table, illuminating the room in a soft glow. It’s only then I notice his disheveled state. My eyes scan his blood-soaked shirt and pants, the red staining his face, neck, and arms, and I blink back in confusion. I know he helped patch me up, but there wasn’t that much blood before, I’m sure of it.

When he sees the look on my face, he doesn’t speak, just nods his head towards the side table, and when my eyes flick over to it, my confusion only deepens. A large blood-stained jar sits in the center, with something large and fist-shaped inside of it, and next to it is a small box of candy.

“Is that a heart?” I ask carefully, flicking my gaze from him to the jar, and I see him nod in my peripheral.

“It’s Billy Powell’s heart,” he states plainly, and my eyes snap back to him, assessing him a little closer this time.

Tension lines every inch of his body, an obvious fury still clinging to him, and my heart starts to beat wildly in my chest, as I ask, “And the Milk Duds?”

His eyes, which though dark, are still somehow soft as he shrugs, “They’re your favorite.” A fact I have never told him, yet still he picked up on it and chose to remember it for later.

“You know most people would just admit they like me,” I reply carefully, baiting him in his angered state.

“Yeah, well most people lack creativity, discipline, and incentive,” he snaps in response, rising to his feet, before his eyes widen a little as he realizes what he just said.

Gritting my teeth, I lean over the other side of the bed, and pull back the duvet, as I command, “Come to bed.”

“Lincoln,” Asher instantly replies, cursing my name in warning, and I let the sound of it roll over me.

“As much as those thoughts hiding behind your eyes intrigue me, Dark Prince, I am a little out of action right now, so how about we just sleep instead?” I smirk, patting the empty space beside me, and his stare travels between me and the door.

“I can go to one of the other rooms,” he explains, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, like we aren’t standing in his bedroom.

“You could, but I don’t want you to,” I admit, not wanting to push him more than he can handle.

“Just sleep?” He questions, slowly moving around the bed until he reaches the empty side.

“Just sleep,” I confirm, and then watch in fascination as he slowly pulls off his blood-soaked clothes, my eyes dancing across his skin.

“I really should shower,” he starts, but I lean over and capture his hand in mine, ignoring the stabbing pain now screaming at me in my side.

“You gave me a heart in a jar, but you think a little blood is going to bother me?” I ask, cocking a brow at him, and for the first time since I showed up earlier tonight, he smiles softly. “Just get into bed, Ash, we can worry about the sheets tomorrow.”

For once he does as he is told, climbing into bed, being careful not to touch me and stay on his side. So I’m sure he is spiraling when I shift closer, bringing his back flush with my chest, and resting my arm on his waist. “What are you doing?” He gasps, his skin instantly coming alive with goosebumps, and I crave to drag my tongue across every one of them.

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