Page 60 of Brutal Savior

“Yeah, that’s a big help. It really is. Shall I swing by later?”

“Yes!” Candice again.

“Shush. If you like, Jacob. I’ll call if I get any further with this.”

“Thanks, mate. See you then.”

A long pause. “Great. Goodbye.”

Doesn’t sound like he’s used to people calling him mate. I’m not sure he has any friends in the Compound. It’s a bit sad. I’ll have to get him over for a beer, away from bloody Candice.

A woman. That’s the absolute last thing I’d expected to hear. I’ve lived most of my life surrounded by blokes, first in the army and then in my academic life. There are women, of course, but few and far between. What have I done to piss one of them off this badly?

An ex-girlfriend? I don't have many of those, and I can't see any of them doing something like this. It's so far outside of likely that it's ridiculous.

The wife of a soldier who died on a mission I led? Again, possible but unlikely. Then again, there isn't anyone who fits the bill for likely.

I reach the gates, and a sullen young Gilda soldier checks the car in silence. I have a feeling I'm unpopular with them at the moment. First my run-in with Brackis, and now consigning some of them to babysitting an old man. Not exactly glamorous work.

I park my car in its special cage in the underground garage. Gabriel laughs at me for taking such obsessive care of my car, but he has no soul where vehicles are concerned. I practically had to bully him into upgrading from his shitbox Ford.

As I get closer to Quinn, my excitement creeps up. I'll torment her for a while and then, if she's good, maybe let her have a little fun too. After all, she wasn't wrong. I did lie to her. I didn’t want her to freak out about the tracker, but with hindsight, I did the wrong thing.

We need to talk about that, too. It won't happen again, and she needs to believe me. Later, though. She's been lazing about by herself for too long, and I need to remind her this isn't a bloody holiday camp.

I open the door carefully, wary of flying toasters, but nothing comes my way. Quinn is sprawled on my sofa like she owns the place, surrounded by a bunch of different takeaway containers. She looks up, pauses her show, and takes a bite of something dripping with chocolate. I watch in despair as a blob of it falls onto one of my cushions.

“Gabriel and Eve showed me how to use the intercom to order takeout. It’s so nineties, real menus and having to talk to an actual person. I thought this place would be more high-tech than that.”

She takes another bite of whatever the hell she’s eating. I shift a box containing a gourmet pizza with one slice taken out and sit down next to her.

“We’re an odd bunch here. Some of the older Brothers don’t like change, except where their own special area is concerned. Still using chalk boards to work out equations that could change the world. That sort of thing. You can order online too. I’ll add it to your phone if I think you can be trusted.”

I eye the mess pointedly, and she rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I thought I’d order one thing from every place. This bakery, though, oh my God. This is called a chocolate taco. Try some.”

She shoves the gooey mess at me, and I back away from it. “No thanks.”

“What, scared you’ll catch my germs?” She waves sticky fingers in my face.

Christ, I’m only just in the door. The fucking brat.

“You’re going to clean this place up right now. We live here. You don’t just trash it.”

She eyes me, and a dangerous smile touches her lips. “You really are OCD, aren’t you? Would you hate it if I did this?”

Before I can stop her, she upends all the chocolate mess onto the floor. “Whoops.”

I know she’s bored and trying to wind me up. By giving in to her childishness, I’ll only be giving her what she wants. I know it, but my blood still rages, and the knowledge doesn’t make a blind bit of difference.

Fuck it. This will be fun.

“You want to be a messy girl? Okay then.” She yelps as I grab her arms and force them behind her back. Holding her immobile is almost too easy. One hand on her wrists, a fraction of my weight pressing down on her body, and she’s trapped. I reach down, grab a handful of the chocolate mess and smash it into her face, rubbing it all over her skin.

She struggles and yells, but her eyes are bright even as I grab more and rub it down her neck and over the exposed part of her tits. She’s wearing a bright green crop top and a little white skirt. The bra underneath is hot pink. Tarty clothes, and now they’re stained with chocolate from her writhing.

An idea starts to form. My cock is rock-hard from watching her struggle, and I’m dying to fuck her, but I can wait a little bit longer to teach her a proper lesson.

“Messy girls get punished.”

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