Page 11 of The Bonds We Break
“For fucks’ sake. No. Let’s go.”
She folds her arms. “It’s your call, but if I was the one doing the kidnapping, I’d tie up loose ends.”
I want to stand my ground. Get her out of here and into the van. But she’s right. “Fine.”
She walks to her computer. “How ironic I have to help execute my own kidnapping because of male ineptitude.”
I don’t know what ineptitude means, but the sneer she says the word with gives me a clue. “Just get on with it.”
I glance at Niro, who mouths the wordbitch.
When she’s done, she turns to me. “Thank you.”
“Five minutes to pack a bag and your work. Choose wisely. You’ll be with us for a while.” I place my knuckle to her cheek. “I like cotton, not lace.” I glance down between her legs. “I like bare and smooth too.”
Niro chuckles behind me.
“You’re a pig,” Rae states.
I shrug. “Maybe. But there’s nothing you can do about that.”
She brushes past me and pulls a book off her shelves before showing it to me. From the title, it’s about men who hate women. She thrusts it at me so quickly, I catch it without thinking. Then she grabs another with ‘misogyny’ in the title. It hits the pile. Then one about unavailable men. One about men and feelings. “I might need to do some research,” she says, one eyebrow raised as if daring me to contradict her.
Niro’s right. She is a bitch.
I let the books fall to the ground. The spines open. The pages fold. She scrutinizes the pile, then looks up at me. “That might be the meanest thing you’ve done since you got here.”
As she walks by me, I grab her and wrestle the phone out of her hand. “You haven’t seen mean yet.”
“Haven’t I?” she says quietly.
For a moment I remember Saint’s confession. How his father used to beat the two of them for not remembering their Bible verses. A fleeting feeling of compassion confuses me. I know how it feels to have a complicated relationship with your father. Mine let me down too.
“Niro, follow her while she goes and packs a case.” I need a minute out of her orbit where I can’t smell the citrusy scent of her. One minute where I don’t want to reassure her that I won’t hurt her as long as Saint complies.
I place my hands on her desk as they leave the room.
Her desk is wood. Old and solid.
On it is a Page-A-Day calendar that says I should pursue what sets my soul on fire. I wonder if a night in the sack with Rae Miller would count. Even though her personality is as fun as a rectal exam, that body and mouth of hers certainly allow room for sexual tension.
It takes ten minutes before I hear footsteps on the stairs. She took her time because I told her to hurry. I could have pulled my gun out, pointed it at her temple, and told her to move. But I really don’t want witnesses watching us leave, and I already know without a doubt that Rae will do exactly as she says.
Rae enters the room ahead of Niro. She’s changed into yoga pants and an oversized hoodie. I hate the idea she changed in front of Niro almost as much as I hate the idea Niro let her out of his sight while she changed.
Niro follows her with two large suitcases.
“How the fuck did I become a bellhop?” he grumbles.
Rae bends and picks up her books. I try to ignore the way her ass looks as the fabric stretches over her curves. Niro catches my eye and bites his lip as he tips his chin in Rae’s direction.
The glare I give him in return is enough to send him back through the door with the cases.
This is perhaps the most fucked-up kidnapping in the history of the club.
I watch Rae as she collects what she needs, packs her laptop away, and then makes sure all the windows in the property are closed before she heads to the door.
“Now I’m ready,” she says.
