Page 15 of Savage Revenge

I’m frozen in place, unable to breathe. Did Cash just tell me he’s keeping me here?

I stare at the door, waiting for him to return, to open it again and tell me this is all a big misunderstanding. But that doesn’t happen.

Panic flares in my chest, and I launch myself at the door, grabbing it with both hands as I scream.

“Cash! Let me out, you fucking asshole!”

Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I once again force them away. I won’t cry. Not here. I have to keep it together. If I fall apart now, it’s not going to help me out of this fucked-up situation. No longer able to keep myself under control, I slam my palms against the solid wood several times and try the knob again, but it doesn’t budge.

Motherfucker.

Finally, I take a step back, barely able to catch my breath as I lower my head into my hands. What the hell is happening? Slowly, I lift my head and open my eyes, blankly staring at the plush white carpeting. And that’s when I process what Cash told me after I broke the vase—I don’t have shoes on. No shoes, no phone, no purse.

Nothing.

I’m not only stuck.

I’m a prisoner in Cash Savage’s house.

And he has nothing left to lose.

CHAPTER 7

Cash

I’LL CUT YOUR DICK OFF AND FEED IT TO THE LION

As soon asthe door slams behind me, I look around for something to break in an attempt to make myself feel better. The only thing I find is Caleb, the security guard I’ve assigned to Jordyn, standing beside the door.

God, she’s so irritating. I should have spanked her ass when she kept fighting me. Maybe that would have gotten her attention and made her understand I’m not fucking around. I need answers, and she’s got to know something. When she turned her big green eyes up to me and told me her father couldn’t have done it, Ialmostbelieved her. For a brief second, I considered letting her leave.

Then she tried to act like she wanted to help me, and that’s when I stopped thinking with my dick and started using my head. Because why would she want to help us? Especially after we drugged her and took her against her will? If we set her free, she’ll get our asses thrown in jail and that’s not happening. It’s a good thing we have the Las Vegas police department on our private payroll. Still, I don’t want to have to deal with answering questions.

Caleb remains a mask of indifference, though he heard her screaming and pounding on the door like she’s doing right now.He knows the score and why she’s here. He won’t ask any other questions.

“There’s broken glass in there. I’ll send the housekeeper to clean it up. Make sure Jordyn doesn’t step in it,” I command as I storm down the hallway toward the kitchen. “And remember what I said. If you touch her or look at her the wrong way, I’ll cut your fucking dick off and feed it to the lion at The Royal.”

Caleb nods, already moving toward the door. “Got it, boss. I understand.”

It’s not the first time I’ve given him that same threat since I put Jordyn under his watch. I’ve said it at least three times now, but I mean it this time. If he so much as blinks at Jordyn, I might lose my shit. Something about that woman has me on edge, and I don’t like it. Right now, I need to be in control, and whenever I’m in her presence, I don’t feel like I am. She makes it hard to think straight. And I don’t remember the last time I’ve had that feeling around a woman.

Irritation prickles at the back of my neck as I walk into the kitchen to look for Edith. I have two housekeepers. One for daytime and one for nighttime. In our line of business, we’re often awake all night and asleep for part of the day, so having staff on around the clock made the most sense. Both my housekeepers are angels sent from heaven, even if they are old and gossip like a bunch of hens with one other.

“Edith, there’s a broken vase in the guest room. Caleb is up there with Jordyn.”

Edith looks up from her book and tea and smiles. “Sure thing. Anything else? Does she need something to eat? A sandwich, perhaps? She’s been here for four and a half hours and hasn’t been offered anything yet.”

Of course, Edith would know that. The woman gets personally offended if everyone in this house doesn’t eat or drinksomething at least every two hours. My brothers think they’re in heaven when she’s here, catering to their every craving.

“A sandwich or whatever she wants is fine.” I exit the large, pristine white kitchen without a backward glance. I’m in no fucking mood to chat with Edith at the moment. I have shit to do. Like track down the piece of shit who killed my father.

As soon as I enter my office, I close the door behind me and beeline for the wet bar. I need a drink. A strong one.

After I down several shots of whiskey, back-to-back, I pull out my phone and dial my brothers on a group call.

One by one, they answer, their faces popping up on the screen. As soon as they’re all on, I sigh. “Thomas Kingston is currently in Europe. Left four days ago.”

Xander raises his eyebrows and curses under his breath. “He’s running?”

---