Page 49 of Vicious Intentions

Something else I enjoyed was betting on the number I’d ultimately give them. My guess was a six, just below the threshold where I’d be required by my rules to provide for his family for the duration of their lives.

“Fuck you,” he spit out. “She’s my wife. I can do anything I want with her.”

Mistake and bad boy points two and three. “You have children to think about, including the one inside her belly.”

“Bitch. I don’t think it’s mine.”

I pulled back, glancing at Brock, who shook his head. It was apparent that Barrett was a clueless Neanderthal. We were up to five points. It wasn’t looking good for the heartless prick.

“Let me ask you a question. Do you love your wife?”

He hesitated but only because he hadn’t anticipated the question. “Yeah.”

Certainly not a romantic dude. “Then it’s your responsibility to treat her like a queen. I assure you that that child growing inside is yours. A boy, if I seem to recall. A legacy that you will treat with love and respect just like you will with your wife. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I always made it a point to know what I was talking about. For all the wrong reasons, his wife still adored him and would never stray.

“Like I said before,” he threw out through clenched teeth, his words slightly slurred from the beating he’d taken, “she’s my wife.”

And just like that he found himself on level six. It was almost like playing Russian Roulette. Perhaps that would have been more effective. “I can tell my requirements aren’t getting through to you, Barrett, and that’s a shame. I’m going to have my men ensure that they get through to you in just a few moments.” I stood, taking my time to return the chair to its original position. Then I casually pulled my weapon from my jacket, studying it in front of him before shoving the barrel under his chin.

He finally had the fear of God flash in front of his eyes.

“Let me be very clear, Barrett. You will never raise a hand to your wife or any of your children ever again. I do mean ever. I don’t care if she comes to her senses and fucks every man in this resort, or if your kids grow up to hate you, which they should, you will not touch them. If you do, what happens after I leave this room will be considered child’s play compared to what will happen in the future. Because I’ll be the one providing your punishment, which will take days since I enjoy inflicting pain. I think you know people refer to me as a twisted psychopath. Yes?”

He swallowed, his eyes coming close to bulging. Then he nodded once.

“Excellent.” I started to turn away, grinning given Brock’s surprised expression. He wasn’t used to seeing me in such a good mood. I rubbed my jaw, looking at Barrett again. “Oh, and when you recover, which could take some time, you will buy your wife flowers once a week. Don’t always purchase roses. Make them special, her favorite color. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Suddenly, he grinned as if he had something on me. I waited, narrowing my eyes. “By the way. People know about that night.”

“That night?” I froze, instantly on edge. “What night are you talking about?” I tipped my head enough to see his eyes. He thought he carried some big, bad secret with him, one worth money or a get-out-of-jail-free card.

“Does the term the Elite mean anything to you?”

“From four of the best years of my life. What’s it to you?”

“People know what you did.”

“People?” I laughed. “I did a lot of things, Barrett. Care to expound?”

He glanced towards Brock then back to me. “No, sir. I was just agreeing that you were a psycho.”

Why did I have the feeling there was more to his warning?

I slipped the weapon into my jacket, happy with the outcome at this point. Brock followed me to the door, laughing softly under his breath.

“I don’t know what liquor you had, but consider it your drink of choice,” he said.

“Not liquor, my friend. Something better. A beautiful woman who might get me out of my dry spell.”

“Well, then. She must be something special.” Brock guided me out the door. “What did the dirtbag mean by dishing your alma mater?”

“I’m not certain. See if you can get it out of him.”

“No problem. What treatment do you want?”

“I think the use of the Louisville Slugger will work.”

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