“See you tomorrow, Josette,” the female customer said. “Your croissants are the best in the city.”
“You’re too kind, Martha.” Josette’s voice didn’t waver. Her continued strength was admirable.
The lapse in time allowed the ramifications of the images presented to firmly plant in Zane’s mind.
“You did this to women because you believed you were entitled,” she continued.
“I am entitled, Daniella. That’s what you never understood. Your mother finally got it.”
“You mean after you and your father had my dad killed.”
Zane laughed. “He had it coming for daring to go against the Brotherhood. So did you. There was nothing better than taking a taste of that sweet body of yours. When we return, together, I’m going to take days fucking every tight little hole.”
“Like hell you are. You’re going to prison, Zane. For what you did to me and the other women.”
“No, I’m not going to do any such thing. In fact, you’re coming home with me. This go-around, you’re going to become my wife.”
“There’s one problem with that,” she spit out, holding up her left hand. “I’m already engaged. To Sinclair Prince.”
“Oh, yeah? Do you really think your boyfriend is going to be able to stop me?”
I’d anticipated Zane overreacting, but when he grabbed her around the throat, dragging her across the counter, all the promises made were tossed aside.
I kicked open the door, lunging toward him.
Zane’s reaction was quicker than I’d envisioned, the bastard grabbing a knife from the counter, pressing the tip against the side of her neck. He was exasperated, backing toward the side wall, shocked to see the two customers left had weapons pointed at his head.
I rounded the corner of the counter, taking careful steps toward him.
“I suggest you realize you’re outnumbered, Zane,” I told him, struggling with the fury clouding my vision. Losing my cool couldn’t occur.
Zane was fidgety, uncertain what to do. That made him that much more dangerous.
“The great Sinclair Prince. You think you’re something special. You’re not. You’re nothing but a thug. I’m royalty.”
I almost laughed but there wasn’t time. He’d underestimated my wildcat. She wasn’t in the mood to remain the victim or to be taken hostage by a cockroach.
In a display of force I’d challenge later, she stomped on his foot, breaking his hold and immediately knocked the knife from his hand. As it clattered to the floor, she threw me a ‘hands off’ look before issuing two brutal jabs, one to his stomach and the other to his face.
As he staggered backward, she took a step away before issuing a savage kick. The force was just enough to pitch him over two counter stools and onto the floor.
Somehow, he managed to scramble, almost reaching the knife.
Not a chance in hell.
Without thinking, I dragged him from the floor, tossing him against the wall. After a brutal backhand with my weapon, I nailed him with punch after calculated punch, the rage from deep within incapable of stopping.
Then I heard her voice.
“Sin. Don’t. Stop, please. Not like this.”
I had him in the air off his feet, ready to snap his neck. With her soft, imploring voice, I stopped midair, slowly turning my head.
“You know what’s best for him.”
I did so adore her smile, especially when it was laced with a touch of evil.
Laughing, I knew she was right. Killing him would be too easy. He deserved to suffer.
