Page 77 of Vicious Intentions

“Then let’s go,” Cain said with a growl in his voice. “Brock. Don’t let the lovely Ms. Sadler out of your sight. I have a feeling this is going to get dicey.” His eyes were practically glowing with the same bloodlust I’d seen before.

“You got it, boss.”

* * *

There was more than one way to skin a cat. That was my father’s favorite expression. As a kid, I’d believed he was a man who never played in the gray, until I’d walked into his office unannounced and uncertain of what I was seeing.

I’d been sure my father would get angry with me, but he’d welcomed the interruption. A man I didn’t know and never saw again was tied to one of my father’s office chairs. I’d often wondered why he’d purchased very plain looking hardback chairs with arms for his guests or employees to sit in.

That was the day I learned the reason, and the memory remained fresh in my mind as if I were twelve years old all over again.

I’d been gifted a tutoring session, including the ceremonial torture of someone I’d learned later was a friend he’d once trusted. He’d even considered the man like a brother. The man had betrayed him with someone who owned a rival corporation.

I sat behind Bart’s massive desk, having retrieved a very similar chair that my father had used to provide a lesson in one of the outer offices. A bogus call had been made to Bart’s house indicating an issue that an employee had needed help with.

Bart had bought it.

Unfortunately, it had taken more time than I’d originally wanted.

Now, he sat tied to what looked like a very uncomfortable chair, beads of sweat sliding down both sides of his face. There was nothing like the stench of garlic oozing from a man’s pores. I drummed my fingers on his desk with one hand, rolling the implement I’d brought with me to use in the other.

Both Cristiano and Cain remained leaning against the wall. Cain was eager to see me work. Cristiano was just ready to get the dance over with. Not that I could blame him. Cain’s other righthand man, Marty, was eager to do the dirty work. While I certainly wouldn’t mind handling Bart’s punishment myself, I preferred watching.

I’d remained silent, doing nothing more than studying Bart. I’d rifled through his office, finding a single email tying him to the situation at hand.

Poor Bart was being blackmailed. It would seem I’d underestimated him completely. While he looked like a meek accountant type, complete with wire rim glasses, he had a penchant for dark kink that rivaled even what I enjoyed.

He also had a monster size cock that he didn’t mind shoving into the mayor’s daughter. I wondered how Bart’s wife felt about him fucking a seventeen-year-old?

The stupid bastard was also keeping trophies of his own in a safe in his office that I’d easily cracked. The collection he’d amassed of child porn and other fucked up things would make most people sick to their stomachs.

“What do you want from me?” Bart asked nervously.

I took my time answering. “The truth.”

“What?” He was already exasperated, likely realizing he’d be lucky to get out of this alive. Little did he know it was his lucky day. Tomorrow might be a different story, but his blood wouldn’t be on my hands at that point.

“Who is blackmailing you?”

For a man who didn’t appear to be able to hide behind a façade, he surprised me again, the quizzical look on his face almost believable. “Are you out of your mind? There’s nothing to blackmail me over.”

I took a deep breath, removing one of the pictures that he’d been stupid enough to keep as a trophy. “Then I guess you won’t mind if I email this to the illustrious mayor of your lovely city.”

Instead of pleading or denying, screaming to the hills the photograph could be doctored, he grinned like the pervert he was. God, I hated men who vilified women.

“She’s of age.”

“Not when this picture was taken.”

Bart shifted in the seat, and I glanced at Marty. He walked over, taking the sewing needle from my hand. Both Cristiano and Cain had been fascinated when I’d provided instructions on what to do.

“So what? I can easily explain it. That doesn’t even look like me.”

I leaned forward and cocked my head. “Oh, I assure you that there is more where that came from, Bart.” I pulled out two of the photographs I found most disturbing from his collection. At least he’d started to sweat even more. “Now, I need to know who the fuck is blackmailing you and what they know about me and my astute colleagues here.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Exhaling, I was already weary of his denial. I nodded at Marty, who immediately moved beside him, grabbing one of Bart’s hands. Then Marty showed him what he held in his other hand.

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