Page 102 of Dirty Damage

Bullshit.Too quick. Too clean.

“So you just decided to play road warrior for fun?”

“You can’t prove I was there,” he sneers, finding his spine now that he can hear engines revving outside. “Maybe someone borrowed my colors. Maybe?—”

“Doesn’t mean you’re innocent.”

But he’s right. I never actually saw him. No one did.

And if this asshole really dated Sutton, she’d recognize his mark, wouldn’t she?

“You’re far from innocent yourself, aren’t you?” He lifts his chin.

I could kill him where he stands and call it a day. It would satisfy the itch I have to remove him from Sutton’s life permanently.

At the thought, I almost want to laugh.

She kissed me in front of my ex out of jealousy and here I am, thinking about killing hers. Talk about rapid escalation.

“Consider this a warning.” I shove Drew back until he rocks on his heels. “You and your bosses come for me a second time and there’ll be hell to pay.”

I turn towards Artem, who is already taking aim at the padlock on the back door. He shoots it twice, the metal shattering to pieces.

“Is this really about the Martineks?” Drew calls after me, braver now that there’s space between us. “Or is this about Sutton?”

The sound of her name in his mouth makes the hair on the back of my neck rise. Rage I can’t leash down growls deep in my chest as I turn to him.

His grin twists, crooked and salacious. “Believe me when I say she isn’t worth the drama.”

Artem grabs my shoulder, trying to haul me out. “We gotta go, O.”

I ignore him. “I don’t need your advice.”

“But that’s the upside of sloppy seconds.” He shrugs happily. “You can benefit from my experience. Once you’ve fucked her a couple times, she loses her appeal.”

I tear out of Artem’s grip and cross the room in three paces. My fist connects with his face, cartilage crunching beneath my knuckles before he can even drop his smarmy smile. Blood sprays as he staggers back, howling.

Footsteps thunder behind us and Artem curses. “Oleg! Let’s go, goddammit!”

I hate that I don’t have time to admire my handiwork, but we have to go.

I spit at Drew’s feet. “Next time, it’ll be a bullet instead.”

We crash through the back door just as the cavalry arrives, their shouts echoing behind us. Artem and I sprint around the corner where he parked the Range Rover and leap inside.

We squeal away from the curb, leaving acrid, burnt rubber in our wake.

“That was too fucking close.” Artem’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “Since when do you let dickheads like him bait you like that?”

I flex my bruising hand. The pain feels good. Earned.

“Since never.”

“Exactly.” He takes a hard right, checking the mirrors. “The minute he mentioned her name, you lost it.”

Artem isn’t wrong. I’ve never lost control like that before.

Not for anyone.

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