Page 142 of The Secrets That Kill

“He wouldn’t like you touching his property.”

The man circles me, stopping when he’s practically in my face. I glance up, my chin lifting in defiance, my jaw tense. He grins. “Your bruises are sublime. I watched you swallow his dick, and then saw the show he gave in the art of rope play.” He inches closer. “Saw you on that cross, naked and bruised. I think I came from that alone.”

A jolt zaps my insides, heat drenching my skin.

“Guess your master doesn’t know everything. There are no private rooms at Broken Angel. Everything is recorded. For insurance.”

Just like that he’s turned what I did with Mercer in that room into sordid smut and porn. My stomach heaves.

“Look at that blush. No wonder he won’t let anyone near you. You’re a real find. All your innocence. Henderson loves that, the naïve, the impressionable. He’s who you really want, my pretty little slut. And he definitely wants you.”

My eyes skirt left and right, a knot of panic rising in the back of my throat. Where the hell is Mercer? I need him. This man’s words are ugly, and worse than anything Mr. Trenton ever said to me. I need to get the fuck away from him and out of this place.

“Henderson’s one of the owners of this club and all its related businesses. You could be his queen whore. He could use you in every perverted way, and you’d still have that air of innocence about you, wouldn’t you?”

He trails a finger down the side of my face. My blood boils at his invasive touch. “You blush easily. It doesn’t dull, no matter what Mercer Vale does to you. I know he’s rich, and depraved, but so is Henderson. And so are his friends. Think of all that cock, that money. Pussy, too, if you’re into it.”

He takes my hand and presses something into it. A card.

“My details.” The corners of his lips lift into a demonic smile, his leering gaze making my heart still. “Call if you want an audience with my boss. He really wants a one on one with you. Or maybe, when you get tired of Vale, we could have a party with Henderson. We’ll invite some friends, show you how much fun can be had in sharing. I bet you’re still nice and tight. Henderson will like that.”

His hand slides down the front of my dress and my spine stiffens. I know exactly where his fingers are headed and I don’t?—

“I wouldn’t. Not if you want to live,” Mercer’s dark voice says.

I gasp, my shoulders sagging in relief. I move closer to Mercer. “Master, I?—”

“Quiet, Pollyanna.”

The man shifts toward me again, not in the least bit threatened. He runs a hand down the back of my dress. “We were just getting to know each other.”

Mercer stares at the guy. The look is brutal, vicious, and so laced with lethal promises, that I hear the prick gulp. His hand lifts.

Then Mercer cuts his gaze to me. “Seems I can’t leave you alone. We’re going home. I’m done with this scene. I want a new one, just us.” His gaze shifts back to the guy. “I won’t warn you again about hands. Next time, I’ll just cut them off.”

He pushes past the guy and guides me out of the club. Once we’re on the street, his car suddenly appears. James must always be waiting for him. That, or he’s got superpowers.

My body quakes as I crawl into the soft leather backseat. Mercer slides in next to me and takes my hand in his. His touch is warm, reassuring, comforting.

Who’d have ever thought he’d bethatguy for me?

“I should have fucking killed him,” he seethes. “I knew it was too easy getting the invite. I fucking let the appeal of sweet little Ivy make me believe that I was getting closer to my target. It should have taken longer to get there. And…” He shakes his head.

“What?”

“I’ve been too fucking caught up…in everything. I’m missing shit, not focused the way I need to be. There are photos…” He scrubs a hand down the front of his face. “This thing is bigger than I thought, and Henderson’s absence tonight was deliberate. He’s going to be a problem.”

I squeeze the hand with the card in it tight, the thin cardboard sticking to my sweaty palm. “How…how were you going to kill him?” Then I remember. “Wait, when I told you about Mr. Trenton?—”

“Fucking stop calling him that. It sounds like respect.” His caramel eyes glitter with hatred. “He didn’t fucking deserve that.”

“I don’t res…you don’t get it…” I pull my hand free of his. “It’s just ingrained. Habit. The way I handled Trenton back then. When I told you about his death, you didn’t seem surprised, just asked how I felt, like you knew. It…did you…?”

My voice trails off, realization smacking me right in the face.

I turn, look at him. “How?”

“I’m a fucking killer, Ivy. An assassin. That’s my main job, that’s what gets me going. You asked how I planned to kill Henderson? Poison. It’s like making drugs, or cooking, or coming up with recipes. It’s precision and planning and creativity.”

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