Page 86 of Broken Player

"You could say that," I began, prowling closer to him step by step.

"We could have a little fun first." His eyes filled with lust, and my stomach lurched.

"I wouldn't touch your disease-riddled dick if my life depended on it." I moved until our chests were almost touching but not quite. The smell of liquor wafted off of him, permeating the air all around me and making my eyes water.

"You fucking bitch," he seethed, and I held up my hand right in his face.

"I'm tired of you thinking you can hurt anyone you want without consequences. And therewillbe consequences," I threatened.

"Oh yeah?" he smirked. "What the fuck is a weak little cunt like you going to do about it?"

That was all it took, and I snapped. My fingers curled into a fist, and I jabbed, striking him right in the throat. His eyes bulged, and his hands flew up to his neck. Spittle gathered at the corners of his lips as he gasped and wheezed.

He managed to catch his breath quickly, though, reaching out and fisting his hand in my hair. He yanked until my eyes watered. The burning pain on my scalp was intense but not as harsh as the pain that exploded behind my eye as his fist connected with my face.

If he thought that'd be enough to get me to back down, he had a surprise coming his way because I wasn't done yet.

Oh, no.

I heard a whispered, "Holy shit," out of Connor, but I couldn't pay attention to what he was doing right now. I was laser-focused on Yates and unloading on him for all the pain hecaused. I reached up and gripped his shoulders, digging my nails in through his stupid suit jacket and bringing my knee up until it connected with his balls. He dropped to the ground, and when he did, I jumped on him, smashing my fist into his face a couple of times, hearing the crack of his nose, watching blood splatter the broken concrete sidewalk underneath him.

He finally got his arms up in front of his bloody face, so I took the opportunity to stand and deliver a couple of swift kicks to the ribs before I straightened to my full height, towering over him. I looked down at the pathetic excuse for a man that lay crumpled and ruined at my feet, and a surge of pride and peace washed over me. I didn't think anyone could call me weak again.

He groaned, spitting a mouthful of blood out before cracking open his eyes, the left one already starting to swell. "I'm going to call the fucking cops."

"Do it," I dared. "And I'll show them how you blackmailed Maddox."

"Fuck," he moaned, curling up even tighter on the ground.

"That's what I thought." I finally glanced up at Connor, who was putting his phone away with an approving grin on his face. "Last warning, Yates. Stay the hell away from my family and my boyfriend."

I stepped over his body, moving back toward the parking lot with Connor at my side. My knuckles ached, and I glanced down at them. They were already swelling, bruises forming, and little cuts dotting the skin. But I couldn't feel anything except the adrenaline and elation at what I'd done. I was strong enough to protect myself and those I loved most, and that was a feeling I never wanted to forget.

"You're goingto have to tell him," Connor brought up as we were pulling up to Maddox's house. He glanced down at where I held an ice pack over my swollen knuckles. I winced, pulling it off and looking down at the damage. Even in the cover of darkness, I could tell they were pretty banged up.

Worth it.

"I planned on telling him anyway, as soon as it was done. I never wanted to hide it from him." I grabbed my bag off the floor, checking to be sure the envelope was inside. After the talk I was about to have, I hoped I'd never see another damn manilla envelope as long as I lived.

"Hey. Thanks for going with me today. And thanks for letting me tell Maddox myself," I added.

"Anytime." Connor's lips lifted in a small smile, and I let myself out of his SUV. I'd need to get my car back from the hotel later, but I'd have Maddox drive me if he wasn't too mad, and Quinn take me if he was. Time would tell which of them would be more pissed off.

Stepping up onto the porch, I knocked lightly, hoping that with the light off out here, the few paparazzi who were left camped out at the end of the drive wouldn't be able to see me well enough to get a picture. Maddox swung the door open and pulled me inside, shutting it behind me and pressing me up against it. "And where the fuck have you been? Quinn and I have been going out of our minds looking for you," he exploded, breathing heavy.

His eyes were studying me, running over every inch, no doubt checking for injuries. When he was satisfied, he crashed his lips down on mine, pouring every bit of fear, anger, andfrustration he'd been feeling into the kiss. He pulled away, resting his forehead on mine until he pulled back, grabbing my hand and bringing it up to his face.

He inspected my bruised knuckles, a crease forming on his forehead between his eyebrows. "What the fuck is this?"

"This is what happens when someone screws with the people I love," I answered vaguely, pushing off from the door. "Come sit down with me, and I'll explain."

He followed me to the couch, not letting go of my hand, but he did stop to pick up the bag I dropped at my feet when he'd pulled me inside. It was like he didn't want to let me out of his sight, and I felt bad that I'd scared him. Unfortunately, things with Yates had taken longer than I expected.

He sat first, pulling me down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around my waist. "Talk," he demanded.

"Let me have my bag." I reached out for it, and he slid the handle into my hand. I pulled out the envelope and handed it to him. "Open it."

He eyed me warily before he pulled out the picture, his gaze instantly growing murderous like I knew it would. "What the everloving fuck is this?"

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