Page 181 of Tempting Little Thief

Silence.

Rayo Revenaw stares at me in dead fucking silence, and then a scoffed laugh leaves him, quickly growing into a deep manic one. He drops his head back and all, so I wait for his little show to be over. “You, boy, are clearly even more of an amateur than I suspected you to be.”

He doesn’t ask me a question, so there’s no need to respond, but when I push to my feet, his eyes narrow the slightest bit. So little if I hadn’t been watching, I might have missed it. I pull my eyes from his as I step up to the giant stone wall tothe right of him, and I don’t have to look at him to know he’s tracking my every move. I don’t need to keep our gazes locked to know a hint of uncertainty makes its way down his spine when one of the stones slides downward as my palm settles over it, and a neat little pin code pad reveals itself.

The shit money gets you, I swear.

I punch in the password and his chains give a little shake as the wall disappears, tucking into itself as a second set of chains begins to rattle, and what do you know, the man of the hour goes stone silent.

Still, I don’t turn back to him as my other guest is revealed.

I wink at the murderous eyes that find mine only seconds before spotting Rayo behind me. His gaze flicks back and forth, likely zeroing in on me when I keep moving to the next wall. Again, I expose the little pin pad, and get ready for the funniest part, the one I’ve been waiting way too long for. I should get a fucking medal for the restraint I’ve shown.

In what feels like slow motion, the next wall folds into itself and I stand there as the third member of our party comes into view, this one not faring as well as the others.

His head bounces around a couple times before he manages to lift it. He attempts to glare, but then his attention is called to his left when he catches a glimpse in his peripheral. Momentary relief floods the bastard’s body, but panic sets in just as fast, the sight creating a thrilling little twist in my gut.

And then two sets of chains go fucking wild.

Swear to god, it’s the sweetest music I’ve heard in a long-ass time. Finally, I spin, looking back to the man who’s the farthest from where I’m standing. The ever poised and unreadable Rayo Revenaw can’t hide the utter shock that sweeps through him as his gaze flies across the room.

I stand there, watching every shade as it washes over him, the shock morphing into confusion and then uncertainty as he wonders if maybe this is a play or a ploy, but then, once again, his gaze settles on the final cell. All at once, pure and utter rage fills him to his core.

I couldn’t keep the smirk in if I tried, not that I care to. I’m fucking pleased as shit.

I’m the master of this show, delivering the biggest delicacy to my most vicious pet. It’s the meal of his dreams, at least right now anyway. ’Cause if there’s anyone who wants to slit the throat of this motherfucker and watch him bleed out as much as I do, it’s the father of the girl he dared to touch.

To bruise.

To leave his mark on as if he has some sort of claim when he abso-fucking-lutely does not. Even if she were to give him permission, it would mean nothing. Not that that matters because she didn’t. He grabbed her, threatened her, turning her perfect creamy skin six shades darker and in the shape of his grimy fingers.

Fingers … that lie at his feet, a little fact his father’s just now come to realize.

Otto Henshaw yanks on his restraints, palms wrapping around the thick steel, and he heaves, thrashing all around as he tries to scream around his gag, eyes wide and taking in every bloody inch of his one and only heir.

“Relax, my guy,” Hayze fucks with him. “It was only the tips.”

My gaze flicks over to Oliver, from bloody stubs of his clipped fingers on his dominant hand, the one that touched her, to the five marks starting on his left shoulder to the right—a fun twist of the five-finger bruise he gave her—and the red river path they created down his chest, making him look like he’s in much worse shape than he is. Granted, he’s in pretty bad fucking shape. I’ve only watered and fed the mutt enough to keep him alive, and the only shower he’s had was the rubbing alcohol I poured over his chest for an added little sting. Actually, the wounds across his stubbed knuckles are bubbled with puss and the coloring of his hands isn’t quite right, so maybe he is in as bad of shape as he looks after all.

Serves him right.

Otto struggles again, looking to Rayo for help, hoping to see a spark of a plan in his gaze, something that will give him a sense of security or hope that he will come to the rescue and get them out of this.

As expected, when my eyes return to Rayo’s, he’s managed to contain his anger, so his gaze is expressionless as it meets Otto’s. It’s as if he’s unfazed, and Otto seems to eat that up. He doesn’t exactly relax, but he stops wasting his strength on the struggle and goes back to trying to kill me with his eyes.

Pulling a knife from my pocket, a new one since my little thief is holding on to my favorite one for me, I thump it against Oliver’s skull a couple times. Not hard, but enough to draw attention to him … and it elicits a small squeal from him to satisfy my inner fucking demon.

It serves its purpose, and Otto’s attention is once again on me. Slowly, I head his way, rolling the knife between my fingers as I circle behind him, loving the way his muscles clench like a little bitch. Finally, I settle in front of him.

“Months. You spent months digging and digging for any tiny, little detail that could possibly lead you to the one and only conclusion you wereso sureyou would reach. So you planned for it. Planned for exactly what you were going to do to make sure you got your boy over there back.”

Otto’s muscles lock, tension and unease bleeding out of his pores as he slowly starts to shake in his silk pajamas, the outfit I found him in when I tore him from his bed early this morning.

“Yeah, you know what I’m talking about, don’t you, you sly little fuck?” I take a few steps away, looking over at Rayo a moment before facing Otto once more. “Or are you sly?” I pretend to wonder when we all know I’m simply mocking the man. “Imma say no … but I’d bet you’d be interested in making a deal with me to get you off the hook and leave this guy on it, hmm? So long as I don’t speak the words rolling around in here.” I tap at my temple, holding his eyes a moment.

Suddenly, I dart forward, knife open, and he flails all around as I bring it to his face.

“Hold still, motherfucker, or you’ll have no lips left when I’m done,” I warn as I press the tip of the blade into what Ithinkis the space between his lips.

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