But not her.
She attacked me the second the doors to the van opened, and she didn’t stop. It was fun. It also made me fucking hard. I mean, come on—then she fuckingstabbedme. It’s not deep, and the bleeding has already stopped, but she still did it nonetheless.
Maybe her crazy will match mine?
I leave the front door open as I walk down the steps to the basement, finding Carson having a difficult time getting up off the floor.
“She fucking hit me with a shovel,” he complains, rubbing the back of his head.
“Karma.” I shrug and scan the room. The broken chair is the first thing I notice. Glass scattered across the floor, followed by a trail of blood leading to the stairs.
“Did she get away?” Carson asks, his eyes following where mine are.
“Yeah, but she won’t get far. I need to swing into town and pick up a few things. I’ll be back after.” I make a mental checklist of what I’ll need as I go up the stairs. “Figure out a game plan. We need to find that Susie bitch before it’s too late. And find out who the hell this girl is. I want a name and an address so I can go get her shit.”
“What do you mean?” he asks. “Aren’t we taking her back?”
“Nah. I’m keeping this one.” I smirk, and Carson lets out a laugh.
“You know that’s not a good idea, right? Archer and Killian might get mad.”
“You think Killian, out of all people, would be mad about this? That man is fucking crazy. He won’t care.” Archer on the other hand…I’m not sure.
I don’t wait for his response as I climb the stairs.
This beautiful girl is mine, and she’s not going anywhere now.
I have three cars.My custom-built 1970 black Mustang, a white and red Jaguar, and an SUV.
A few years ago, Killian and I built the Mustang from the bottom up. It took us so fucking long to get her up and running since some of the parts we needed were extremely hard to find. The black, shiny exterior is what you’d see in those Ford magazines. Everything about this car is fucking perfect.
I grab the keys to my Jaguar instead of my Mustang, not wanting to chance any damage to it. The engine roars to life, and I blast the heater, attempting to take the edge off since I didn’t grab my jacket.
I head down the long dirt road, keeping my eyes peeled for my captive. I press the gas, going well over what I usually do. I want her to know I’m coming and that she didn’t get away. I want her to be scared, to think I’m going to hurt her—and I just might. Part of me wants to, the other part wants to fuck her nice and deep. I plan on doing both at some point.
Her small frame comes into view about a quarter of the way down the road, and I rev my engine, causing her to look over her shoulder. She takes off running down the road like she has a chance to get away. I don’t slow down until I’m right behind her, and even then, she doesn’t stop. I press down on the gas and swerve around her, cutting her off, and she almost hits my car but manages to halt herself.
Putting the car in park, I swing my door open. She stands there in shock, but the door slamming shut seems to break her out of her trance.
Neither of us say anything for a few seconds as I lean back against my car. I’m not sure what she’s waiting for, but I’m a patient man.Kinda. She definitely isn’t the type of girl to listen, so there’s no way she’s willingly going to get into my car.
“What the fuck do you want?” She crosses her arms as if unsure of what to do.
Awe, a little spitfire.
“Well, if you didn’t stab me and run out of my house, I would’ve told you.” I shrug, copying her and crossing my arms over my own chest. “Get in the car. You’re bleeding.” I nod to her hands, wrapped with material from her shirt.
She looks down at her hands as if she forgot. “I’m fine.”
“Doesn’t look fine to me,” I say but she doesn’t respond, silence stretching between us.
“Get in the car.” I repeat, slower this time, but she still doesn’t move.
“Are you taking me home?” There is something in her voice, something I can’t place.
“Nope.”
“Then I’m not getting in the car.”
