Page 53 of Hate Mates

We’re not that late, but apparently this party has been active for a while.

I had expected tighter security. Other than a few men standing around the perimeters of each room, there is a shocking lack of muscle. Nobody even patted us down upon entry. Beth’s dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination, but I know she has a weapon strapped to her thigh. She favors her knives; messy but quiet.

Getting close enough to Lyle to take him out has been difficult. He is rarely seen outside. However, the arrogance of letting a near stranger walk into his home, armed no less, is baffling.

We weave around bodies in various states of undress to get to the other side of the large living space where a bartender is busy preparing cocktails. I step up to the bar, next to a silver-haired man in a suit of the same color. His shirt is untucked and unbuttoned, and he reeks of stale perspiration and fresh whiskey.

The bartender passes him a drink before asking what I’d like.

“Two bourbons,” I say as Beth runs her hands around, settling them low on my abdomen and resting her chin on my back. It does something to me every time she touches me. I see flashes of our time in Paris, remembering how she sounded when she came for me, how she tasted, how she smelled. How her perfect cunt held onto my cock as if it caused her pain to be without it.

I had her as many times as my body could stand that night… yet it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough to get her body out of my system. Maybe I never can.

I spin to face her, wrapping my arms around her, too.

“Who do we have here?” Silver Hair asks. Beth looks at him but doesn’t answer. That’s my job.

“William Mayhew,” I offer him. “This is my wife, Christine.”

“Wife, huh? That’s unfortunate,” he grumbles, causing Beth to grin at him.

“We wouldn’t be here if Willy didn’t like to share,” she coos at the geriatric fucker.

“Is that so?” he asks her, eyes alight with excitement.

“Yes, but that’s not up to her.” My sternness makes his eyes dart to me. I pinch her chin, rubbing her lower lip with my thumb. “Be patient, minx. You’ll get to play with someone tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Beth lowers her head, obediently. As if she could ever fucking be. She deserves a damn Oscar award for how well she performs shy and demure. The sex appeal is all her, though, she oozes that naturally.

“Let’s find our host,” I tell Beth, handing her the drink the bartender just slid across the bar and nodding at the stranger whose eyes won’t leavemy wife.

“Maybe I’ll see you later.” He leers.

Not a fucking chance in hell, asshole.

Scanning the crowd, I look for Lyle without looking too closely at the women around. I don’t want to see Franny’s face on every one of them. Focusing on Lyle is a must.

I’ve killed every one of his henchmen who helped to lure my sister into his web. The man who picked her up at the bar she waitressed at, the driver who laid in wait for them to exit. Lyle’s three top ‘salesmen’ who sold her to various clients. All those clients are dead. A few others, as well. The ones I’ve been able totrack down on my own. I won’t stop until all his connections are no longer breathing.

Franny deserves nothing less. Along with all the other women who’ve been stolen, raped, and murdered by this lot over the years. These people are vile, and I’ll see them all burn if it’s the last thing I do in this life.

Finally spotting the man himself, I casually lead Beth to the corner of the dimly lit room. Her fingers on my bicep tense ever so slightly and I know it’s because of the scene in front of Lyle.

It would be erotic and tantalizing, if the woman looked sober and enthusiastic. Instead, she looks drugged and incoherent. Bile rushes through every one of my veins.

“Mayhew,” Lyle calls to me as we approach.

Beth plays the quiet pet partially behind me.

“Mr. Maclain, I appreciate the invite. This”—I nod toward the disgusting scene next to me—“is exactly what I’d hoped for.”

“Lucky for you, you met the requirements,” he says, meaning my financials were pleasing to him and the astronomical entrance fee was fully paid two weeks ago. “Your wife is even more appealing in person.”

“She is,” I say. “And available tonight, if we have a deal.”

“You like them younger, if I recall.”

Not even a little bit, but that’s what got William Mayhew in the door. Not minors. For as disgusting as this man is, he hasn’t stooped that low.Yet.There’s money to be made there, so I’m sure it wouldn’t be much longer. If he were going to live past tonight.

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