Page 99 of Ruthless Redemption

Salvatore is shirtless, the muscles on his chest smeared with diluted blood as Remy sits on the counter, one leg of his suit pants cut open as he affixes a bandage to his thigh.

My gaze turns to Matthew in panic, already anticipating the carnage that’s about to ensue. But he doesn’t move from his settled position against the far counter. He doesn’t even change his lazy stance, his arms and ankles crossed.

“Fuck.” Remy scoots from the counter.

Salvatore pivots toward the threat.

Bishop storms forward, shoulders broad, face menacing, and launches a fist at Salvatore’s cheek.

The blow isn’t defended. My enemy takes the hit, his head flinging to the side as he stumbles into the counter.

Bishop strikes Salvatore’s chin. Mouth. Jaw. Each punch is fast and precise before he pivots to Remy, grabbing the younger man by the shirt to drag him forward. Chest to chest.

“Your turn, cockroach.” His knuckles pound Remy’s nose. Eye. Cheek.

Matthew barely blinks as my pulse thunders, his thoughts almost perfectly hidden if it weren’t for the way he unfolds his arms to clutch the counter behind him. He white-knuckles the marble. His chin hitches higher.

“That’s enough,” I warn Bishop.

He doesn’t stop. He swings again and again as Remy ducks into the blows.

“I said,that’s enough.” I raise my voice. “We need them in a position to talk, and they can’t do that without teeth.”

Bishop hesitates, his back stiffening as he pants, chest heaving, nostrils flared, his grip still tight on Remy’s shirt.

“Let him go.” I walk to his side, tilting my head into his line of vision. “Now, Bishop.”

Remy doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

He stands there, fearless in the face of another deserving blow as Bishop snarls, then finally shoves him away.

“Are we good now?” Remy limps, his blotched face pinched while he struggles to regain footing on his injured leg.

“Not even close, you fucking bitch.” Bishop swipes rough hands down the front of his shirt, smoothing the crinkles. “I’ll never begoodwith someone who throws cheap shots.”

“Cut us a break.” Salvatore licks the cut on his bottom lip, then prods at the swelling flesh with a gentle finger. “We waited until the kid was gone. We didn’t want trouble. We just needed you out of the way.”

Stella.They were watching while she was here?

“You waited until you weren’t outnumbered,” he corrects. “You knew Torian’s men would’ve killed you without hesitation.”

Salvatore glowers, denying the obvious.

This could’ve turned out so much worse. They could’ve approached while my daughter was around. Could’ve petrified her like they have before.

“Hey.” Matthew draws my attention, his palm patting the counter at his side. “Come here.”

I drag my feet toward him, thankful for the support while Bishop marches to the fridge, muttering under his breath. He yanks the freezer drawer open and grabs a handful of ice.

Matthew drapes a protective arm over my shoulder, nestling me into his side. “Is he okay?” he murmurs in my ear.

“I think so.” I assume, aside from a headache, the only thing wounded is his pride.

He kisses my temple, then sucks in a long breath. “Okay, motherfuckers, now that the welcoming party is over, you two need to start talking.”

“Can’t we do this without your guard dog?” Salvatore keeps his death stare on Bishop as he grabs his blood-stained shirt from the counter to pull it back on. “It’s a family matter.”

“Heisfamily.Myfamily. And you wouldn’t be in any position to talk if it weren’t for his leniency. So I suggest you quit asking for more favors.”

---