Page 18 of Twisted Redemption

And now, the shame.

That goddamned shame that’s my fault.

Ignoring that thought as she turns away, I do my best to murder the man next to her with my glare. Now she’s actually drunk, thanks to my stupidity. And all I can do is keep an eye on her and make sure she gets home safe.

If she’ll even let me do that.

“You look like a psychopath,” Ryan says dryly, coming to stand next to me.

“Keep your eyes on the client.”

“They are, don’t worry. She’s just dancing with her friends.”

For a moment, I contemplate leaving. Odds are, Imani will be perfectly fine with Ryan. And being this close to Brooke while she flirts with some asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself is causing my blood to boil.

“Seriously, man, I think you should get some air. What’s pissing you off this much?”

Ignoring Ryan, I watch as Brooke rolls her hips. When the guy runs his hand over her ass, I swear I see red.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Ryan shouts, but I barely hear him.

Two seconds. That’s how long it takes before I’m on the guy, ripping his hands off of her and punching him in the face.

This isn’t Brooke. She’s loyal, and soft, and caring. Casual sex isn’t her thing. And neither is letting a stranger run his hands all over her.

“Blaze! What the hell?” Brooke grabs my arm before I can swing again. Her tone is annoyed, but when I look at her, her expression is anything but. A dark satisfaction has bloomed in her eyes, even as she clenches her jaw.

“I’m taking you home before you do something you regret,” I snap. Before she can tell me no, or that I’m not her fucking babysitter, I take her arm and yank her off the dance floor.

The last thing I hear before stepping outside is one of her friends laughing and yelling, “Go get ’em, babe.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, trying to pull her arm free. But I just grip her more tightly.

By the time we get to the car, she’s called me every insult known to man, plus tried to stomp on my feet with her heels.

“Why?” she pants, still struggling against me. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

I bark out a bitter laugh. “Why? Jesus, Brooke. You’re really not very smart.”

Her head snaps back like the insult was a physical blow. Her fists clench and unclench. “Good to know you’re willing to stoop to his level.”

I know exactly who she means. Francis Hendricks, the son of a bitch who made sure Brooke never had a sense of self-worth.

“Shut up and get in the car, Daisy.”

She shakes her head. “You think I’m going anywhere with you?”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“So now you’re okay with kidnapping?”

I jerk open the passenger side door of my car and shove her inside.

Before I can slam the door, she says, “I hate you, Blaze Grayson. And I hope you die a lonely and miserable death.”

I ignore the sting of her words and slide into my seat. She sees her shot and reaches for the door. But before she can even get it open, I grab her by the back of the neck, pulling her straight.

“You’re not going anywhere. Sit back.”

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