Page 64 of Wicked Attraction

“Look, man, I mean…Mr. Ashby, one of your men got a little rough with Butch.” He looked over his shoulder at the man with a fading black eye. “Tell ’em, Butch.”

The man with a buzzcut nodded. “Fucking bitch said she was into rough stuff, and I paid for it. She lied,” he grunted and shook his head, unaware of Virgil creeping up behind him.

I nodded, a look of understanding on my face. “You call taking pliers to a woman’s lady bits ‘rough stuff’?”

In the sex business, you come across all types. But the fucking serial killers in training were a special breed, and they had to be dealt with.

“Damn right, I do. Didn’t leave any permanent damage, did I?”

The fact that he could be so indignant only fueled my anger, hell, doubled it. After what they did to Mo, they deserved a hell of a lot more.

“Did you get off?”

His blond brows dipped in confusion, and his face paled. “What?”

“What you did, tugging on Lisanne’s pussy lips with a pair of pliers, did you get off? Nut? Come?”

“What the fuck, man?”

I took another step forward.

“I’ll make it easy for you. Did your dick get hard inflicting torture on her?”

His confusion eased into disgust. “Fuck no. I ain’t no fucking pervert.”

“Wrong answer.”

I sent my fist flying, so it crashed down on his jaw and brought him to his knees before I turned back to Cardiff.

“So he tortured a woman, not because that’s his kink but just to do it.”

“He paid his money,” Cardiff insisted.

“For sex. He paid to get his dick wet, to bust a nut, not to just fucking torture someone.” Despite the anger flooding my veins until it was thick like lava, I was calm.

“He got his ass beat, as he should have, and you sent someone to beat up a woman? Do I understand that right?”

Cardiff was silent and unmoving, as if he could feel the energy change in the air.

His black-haired friend had moved toward the window, fear turning his face a dark shade of red. “This ain’t got shit to do with me, man.”

“Who are you?”

Jack was dead, and I knew Cardiff and Butch, which meant one man was missing.

“The name is Rizzo. Mark Rizzo, but everyone calls me Rizz.”

“And Richard, where is he?” He had to be here somewhere.

“Behind you, asshole.” His words came first, followed by the press of cold metal to the nape of my neck. “You want to die, or you wanna get the fuck out of here?”

I smiled. “That’s your first mistake. Dick.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Amusement colored his voice.

“You talk too fucking much.” Wannabe tough guys always did.

He pressed the gun into my neck, pushing me forward, but I didn’t budge. “Tough talk from the guy with a gun to his head.”

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