Still not as satisfying as putting my fist through his nose.
Especially when what’s in his basement is so dumb.
He’s breeding hedgehogs. Part of an underground hedgehog breeding program that’s illegal in Colorado.
“Moving. To Nebraska.” Pretty sure there’s zero chance Emma would give up her mountains for Nebraska. Pretty safe bet, and no major cities that I’d want to go are there either. Sorry, Nebraska. “And if Emma’s nameevercomes out of yourmouth again, toanyone, I’ll release everything I know to the press. When it’s most convenient. Which will be about the time the press is eating out of Emma’s hand because she’s fuckingfabulous, and there’ll be nothing they want more than to finally seeyouget what you deserve for what you did to her.”
“You think because you’re a rich snooty asswipe, you can stand there and make threats? You haveno ideawho my friends are.”
“The friends that aren’t here?”
“One phone call—”
“Because you can’t handle a snooty asswipe on your own?”
He looks about ready to lunge at me, so I wave the jar of bees again. “I’m the only thing standing between you and Theo Monroe, who probably knows even more shit than all of my money can dig up.”
“Fucking all-talk asswipe.”
Things after that are a bit of a blur.
I know I move.
I know something connects with my fist.
I know there’s blood.
I know it’s not mine.
And I know I walk out of there with the jar of bees still unopened to be returned to Grey, with zero fear that Chandler Sullivan will ever,everagain utter Emma’s name or cause a moment’s concern for her or Bash for the rest of their lives.
“He’s alive,” I tell Graham as I slip into the SUV.
As if they can’t hear him moaning inside.
My lead security agent sighs. “Does he need medical attention?”
“Unlikely,” Theo says. “Can Jonas actually throw a punch? I should go check.”
“Stay,” Graham orders both of us.
He doesn’t knock before letting himself into the townhouse.
“Feel better?” Theo asks me.
“Mostly.” My heart’s still hammering like I just tried to race a horse in the Kentucky Derby. I suck in a breath that doesn’t reach the bottom of my lungs. I’m too amped up. Too furious still. Too certain that there’s zero punishment in the world harsh enough to compensate for what this man put Emma through. “Won’t be fully better until I know he’s being tortured in hell.”
“Em should’ve been the one to put a fist through his face.”
“That too. But she’d never do it.”
“And he’d hit her back, and then we’d both be in jail.”
I eye the man who tried to puthisfist throughmyface the day we met, who now feels almost like a brother to me. “You’re not rushing in there to do any damage yourself.”
He smirks. “For once in my life, Rutherford, I’m being the responsible one who makes sure someone else doesn’t get arrested. For Emma’s sake. Plus, I wanted to see for myself if you surprised me and actually hit him.”
Chandler yells something inside, then all goes silent. Graham slips out of the townhouse, and he’s barely back in his seat before we’re pulling away from the curb.
