Page 11 of My Broken Bodyguard 2: Ritchie & Tori

“Thank you, cousin.”

His lower lip trembled as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Anytime Ritchie.”

“We’re hopping on the jets. The airfield is about twenty minutes away,” I said.

“Sounds good,” Catch stated.

Tori shoved her face into my bulletproof vest, keeping her face shielded. It was obvious he hit her. That motherfucker would pay severely.

“I got you. You’re safe now,” I said, yanking off the gas mask before climbing into the backseat of the truck.

“Ritchie, please don’t let me go.” Her fingers caressed my neck.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

The truck wobbled as Brock drove over the carnage.

“Daryl’s still out there,” she breathed.

“I know. We’ll get his ass next. In the meantime, I plan to torture Rosco until there’s nothing left.”

CHAPTER FOUR

TORI

THE SICK TORTURE

Twenty-one hours. Twenty-one hours of hell. Well, at least seventeen hours of the twenty-one-hour drive was torturous. Rosco and his men kicked and beat us during the drive and at rest stops.

He mentioned he had five other women at home in Salt Lake City. Was this how he treated all his women? Maybe.

This man was a monster. One who had money. He felt he could have anything he desired. Treat people vile because it made him feel like a bigger man. Women weren’t toys. We were human beings. Men were supposed to love and cherish women. Not abuse and defile.

“Those stupid white boys are still following us,” Rosco said, peering through the rear-view mirror.

I glanced at him with disgust in my eyes from the back seat beside Simone. Where we were so lucky to sit. After being confined to the floor like sardines for most of the drive.

Searing pain shot through my zip tied wrists behind my back. Sitting like that for hours on end was uncomfortable. My hands kept going numb from the zip ties, cutting off my circulation.

Guilt mounted in my heart for getting my best friend involved. Simone shouldn’t have been caught up in my mess. I volunteered to go with the vile fucker. Not her.

“I bet Ritchie was pissed when he woke up this morning,” I muttered to Simone.

“Ezra won’t be happy either,” Simone mumbled.

“Shut the fuck up back there,” Rosco yelled.

“The second we get to my house; I’m separating you two.” Rosco smirked at us through the rear-view mirror.

Was this what happened to those who tried to save the world? If I didn’t care about the residents on the South Side, my best friend and I wouldn’t be here right now with a fucking lunatic.

He was truly crazy. I’d love the chance to gouge his eyes out.

When I came to later during our long drive, he pulled into a rest stop.

“Go to the bathroom. I’m not taking the zip ties off this time.” An evil grin lifted the corners of his lips.

“How are we supposed to pull our pants down?” I asked.

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