Page 1 of Ruthless Lord

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Chapter 1

Charlie

Based on the way this guy's staring at me, I'm either about to get stabbed, trafficked, or invited back to his place for a more intimate experience.

Fingers crossed forstabbed.

"You clumsy fucking bitch," he snarls, his scarred upper lip curling.

Cash flutters in the air around us. Tens, twenties, fifties, all slowly scattering around the big man, floating to the floor as eager and greedy onlookers stare at the huge sum of money now lying around for one brave idiot to go after.

"I amsosorry," I say, holding up my hands, mouth hanging open. A chorus ofoh shit, oh shitplays through my head. Loud music slams from the nearby speakers, and at least one guy laughs as he raises a drink to his lips. Bet that asshole never spilled a few thousand in cash all over a crowded nightclub floor.

"Sorry don't fucking help me pick up all this fucking money," the man snarls. He looks over his shoulder and snaps his fingers ata couple more musclebound idiots in black t-shirts and baggy jeans. "Don't let anyone touch a singlefuckingbill."

"Yeah, boss, got it." The two junior thugs begin hurriedly gathering everything in thick stacks as their boss stomps closer to me.

"You got any idea whose money that is?" he snarls, reaching out for my wrist.

"Honestly, probably better than you do." I jerk away before he can snatch me, darting backward, heart racing.

His face turns red with anger. "Clumsy and fuckingmouthytoo."

"Don't forget smart and beautiful."

"I was thinking morefuckable." He sneers, showing off a single gold tooth. "And very small."

Well, crap. Naturally, my dumb mouth just made this situation worse than it had to be. I hold up my hands sheepishly. "Can't we just agree accidents happen and move on? Would you accept a heartfelt apology?"

His head shakes slowly. He must be too aware of the people watching. Men and women crowd around nearby, some edging toward the two thugs picking up the cash, others staring at the big boss. He's probably embarrassed, and men like him don't do well when their pride gets wounded.

Most of them compensate with violence.

This asshole seems about average in that regard.

"Come here, bitch," he snarls and lunges.

I make a patheticmeepingnoise and scurry to the side, barely getting out of his reach. He crashes into a table and sends a few empty bottles shattering on the floor.

"Shit!" I yelp, racing toward the edge of the crowd. "Move! Move!"

They don't move. Instead, I crash into a few onlookers. Someone tries to grab my waist, and I lash out blindly, panic taking over. A guy curses as my fist connects with a throat, and then I'm free again. I pinwheel forward, stumbling through a few more onlookers, and start running hard.

Big Boss is on my ass, though. He's tearing after me like an enraged bull, which isn't all that far from the truth.

This should be the part where I stop and tell him,it's okay, that's technically my money I knocked over back there, but I'm pretty sure we're way past that point.

Instead, I tear through the dark warehouse. The fighting ring to my left is the only bright beacon of light. Inside, enormous, shirtless beasts are tearing into each other, punching and kicking viciously. Blood splatters from a nose, and there's a scream of savage joy from the crowd.

"Get back here, you fucking bitch!" Big Boss roars, much too close for comfort. I careen around a bunch of tables and angle toward the back halls, head spinning, trying to figure out how I'm going to lose him. Won't be in the crowd—someone currying favor with the Bloody Fist will grab me eventually—but maybe through the winding back rooms and the fighter stalls.

I take my chances and sprint down a dark hallway. Big Boss is so close I can almost smell his fetid, vodka-tinged breath on my neck. I slam shoulder-first into a drink girl, sending moreglasses scattering, and she screams at me in rage. Poor girl's mini dress is probably ruined. Big Boss has to dance around her, giving me precious seconds as I throw myself at a nearby hallway.

I keep going, gasping for air, cursing myself for giving up on my cardio training two years ago. There's a door marked OFF LIMITS on my left, and I grab at the knob desperately. It turns, and I stumble into a locker room filled with half-naked men.

They stare at me. I give them one brief look, smiling sheepishly. It smells like sweat and deodorant. "Don't mind me, boys, just running for my life. Oh look, here he comes now."

"Stop that fucking thief!" Big Boss screams.