Page 72 of Until the Day You're Mine

“Two days ago.” Harley doesn’t play with him this time. He knows, they’ve crossed into dangerous territory, and perhaps he has pushed way harder than intended.

Tayida seethes with rage at the blatant attempt to be swayed by the choice placement of the images. Clearly, Harley has had them for a while and he has had no intention of informing him until it would serve his agenda. He has been biding his time, setting the mood, to get Ty just where he wants him. Furious, he hardly contains his anger as he grates, “Is. Rian. Alright?” He sets him with a menacing glare, filled with vengeful promises.

“Yes, they both seemed to be.” He speaks as if he is concerned, but Ty knows better.

The little one, Bran, has probably been right there in the same house. Oh god, the child could be witnessing all of this. Rian’s son could be hurt if Ty wastes any more time stuck in jail. Even after he’s released, even if he tries to trust the justice system and pursue Harris legally, with no backup from his superiors, with no financial help, and with no friends in his corner, he is perfectly destined to fail and truly lose Rian forever. Even if he doubts Harley, he is convinced now, there is no other way.

Ty is blinded by anger and Harley’s words give him little reassurance. Rian is living in hell, just like him, only the whole world sees it and chooses to pretend it isn’t happening, intimidated by the money and lethal force Harris has ready to throw back at anyone who would dare challenge him. Anyone like Ty, who is gearing up to take him down.

Sullivan squeezes his shoulder. This better be fucking enough to shut him up, because Ty is so fucking furious now, he can punch through skulls, even the thick Alaskan type.

He knows why Harley is doing this. He wants him real desperate, real angry, and scared. He wants Ty to reconsider his offer and come work for him in exchange for protection, money and possibly revenge.

“Don’t fuck with me, Harley.” Ty straightens up, standing tall towering over Harley. His eyes narrow as he says, “You might be some big deal out there,” he shrugs to the door, “but today, you messed up. I’ll kill you if you pull some shit like that on me again. And your precious cargo…whoeverthey are, you’ll never fucking see them again.”

Yeah. I figured out your little secret.

Harley looks at him like he has no idea how Tayida has gotten into his office. Like he has no clue who this man before him is.

Ty glances one last time at the folder, the final images burning, tearing at his heart. He slams it shut and shoves it back to Harley. He can’t hold on to it, anyway. Not considering what he is about to do. “After I deliver, and you make good on your end, we’re done.”

“Of course,” Harley concedes. Their business is seemingly finalized, yet it appears he isn’t done talking and is considering one last thing.

“Is there anything else?” Ty snaps at him impatiently. He’s not in the mood to play any more games.

Harley shrugs his shoulders after a beat, winning some wordless argument with himself, and opens another drawer, pulling out a few more photographs. He lays them on the desk.

Ty leans in, thinking that these are other images of Rian. However, the closer he gets, the more evident it becomes, that this is someone who merely resembles him to the extreme.

Sullivan is looking over his shoulder, studying the image with intense curiosity. He is very still, and it’s not difficult to tell he likes what he sees. It’s no surprise really, as they have spent enough time together for Ty to know that the images are straight out of every wet dream Sullivan has ever bluntly shared with him.

The photographs are of a man in his early twenties, slim and elegant in stature, with gorgeous blue eyes, perfect creamy skin, pouty lips, and fashionably cut hair. He is wearing a long navy cashmere coat and a white scarf, with an expensive-looking leather messenger bag over his shoulder. The way he carries himself, makes it seem like he has stepped out of a fashion magazine – polished to perfection, unreal and utterly unattainable.

“Who’s this?” Sullivan buts in.

“Harris's new assistant, Rick Landon. He was hired six months ago.”

Ty thinks about all the records of dead lovers he had unearthed during his investigation. Evidently, when Harris was ready to move on to someone younger, someone more obedient and eager to please, he erased all memory of his previous relationships and all traces of his partners.

As much as Ty wants to convince himself that Rian is relatively safe because of his somewhat public persona, he’s not so sure that Harris will consider that argument sufficient should he decide to move on to Rick.

Time really is fucking up.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Rian, Ri, Ree-ahn

AUGUST 2022

Rian lies in bed, frigid and wound up like he might explode at any moment. He tilts his head ever so slightly and chances a glance at Harris. That bastard is taunting him with his quiet snores. Rian wants to scream as he is helpless to do anything to him but share his bed and fulfill his demands.

Rian can almost visualize grabbing a pillow and pressing it firmly over his husband’s face. He can see himself straddling his wide torso, pinning his arms with his thighs, and riding out the convulsions of his suffocating body.

The vision is so real, it takes a moment for him to realize his jaw is clenched tight and he can taste blood from where his tongue is pressed to his molars. His spinning imagination has the phantom sounds of grunts produced by his suffocating husband and the shuffling sound of a struggle, echoing in his ears.

The vivid hopeful flash dissolves, making way for the darkness and the very much still alive and unharmed Harris.

Rian sighs and slips out of the bed quietly, grabbing his sweats and hoodie from the walk-in closet and then silently paddling with bare feet to Bran’s room to check on him.

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