Page 185 of Tempting Little Thief

“I’m giving you a gift. Three, to be exact.” I speak so low only he can hear as I press my chest against his and he liftshis chin, holding on to his pride, even though he’s chained to my fucking basement floor. “And now I’m going to collect my reward. If you think I don’t know what your exact next move will be, you’re wrong, so I will warn you once. Do not fucking do it. You will regret it.”

With one quick flick of my eyes to the other two, I shove the key into the lock around Rayo’s right wrist, freeing it before I drop it into the pocket of his shirt, leaving him to do the rest.

Otto and Oliver scream and shout, their voices echoing off the walls as Hayze and I make our way to the door, up the stairs, and into the mansion.

Mymansion.

We close the door behind us so their screams are sealed inside.

“Boss?” he draws.

“Royce Brayshaw has my sister.”

“Oh shit.”

Oh shit is right. I’m not their bitch boy anymore. I’m not their errands man.

I’d go as far as to say we’re nothing to each other now, a little fact I hope he remembers because I’m coming for him. My sister is supposed to stay out of everything related to the life I lead and he just dragged her straight into it as if she’s some sort of tool to be used against me for his own bullshit. She isn’t. She’s kind and good and deserves better. She deserves more.

I’m going to beat his fucking ass.

“You headed out now?” Hayze asks.

“Almost.” Rather than head out to the front, where my car is parked, he follows my lead out the back door through the gardens. “Just gotta collect something first …”

Chapter 34

Bass

Present Time

Chaos. Complete and utter chaos is what I’ve bulldozed my way into, not that I expected anything different.

No less than ten guns are pointed directly at me right now, but their queen stands between them and if anyone dares to hurt her, there’s a nifty little gun attached to this new tank of mine that Hayze won’t hesitate to let run free. I told him to take me out if he had to.

If she hurts, I hurt, and they fucking die. Plain and fucking simple.

We planned for that horrifying possibility, but I counted on her team being smart enough to know when to hold back.

What I did not plan for or anticipate was the fuckery of emotions and thoughts the sight of her would bring.

Goddamn if I don’t want to run to her, pick her up and hold her, fucking rock her back and forth a while. I want to tell her everything’s going to be all right and explain where we’re at and what’s going on.

Then there’s this other part that wants to look down my nose at her, turn my back on her and make her beg, plead and cry at my feet for dismissing me the way she did and in front of a little bitch like Oliver when all she had to do was take my hand—that part of me is an even bigger asshole.

But I’ve got shit to do and I’m on a time line so when Damiano steps forward, holding one hand behind him tofurther hold off the firing squad and one out in front of him as if to placate me, I keep on moving, but my eyes stay locked on his.

“Bass …” he eases. “You can’t just fucking barge in here like this. There’s a way to go about things.”

“Just came to get something of mine, pretty boy.”

That’s when I see it, the shine of familiar silver gleaming off the moonlight right there in the grass, and beside it … a body. My eyes narrow, my pulse thumping harder with each step closer.

It’shim. Dead.

Dead by my knife, the one thing that came with me from my past life into the new one.

The fucking irony …

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