"Oh, I'll make good boy a fucking slogan if you promise tothatagain," I growl, adjusting my dick in my pants.
Lilly's laugh makes me remember that she is everything. She is the reason I breathe. She is the reason that I am about to erect the sweetest revenge upon a person that is lower than low, the scum on the bottom of my boot. No one touches a hair on her head without paying the price. And I happen to be the one who sets the prices around here. The cost? Your life.
I grab a glass from the cabinet and pour it full of freshly brewed sweet tea. Lilly worked up a thirst in me. A need forrehydration after the amazing orgasm she just literally drained from me. I walk back into the bedroom and grab my phone. Just as I pick it up, it rings. Scott is calling.
"Yo," I answer.
"I'm heading your way. Just got the all clear from Reaper."
"Perfect. I'll see you soon, brother."
"See you soon." The call ends and I lock my phone before shoving it into my pocket.
The warm air in August doesn't call for a jacket, but the chill in the air when I see this traitor will make it feel like the coldest winter in Alaska. Lilly is propped up on the couch, curled beneath a fuzzy blanket with her kindle in hand. I stop a few feet away and stare at her. She feels me staring and glances up, meeting my stare. "What?" she inquires.
"Nothing. Just admiring the view," I muse, smirking at her. She smiles and shakes her head, returning her gaze to her book.
"What are you reading?" I ask.
"One of my girly romance smut books," she says, never taking her eyes off the screen.
"I'm going to need you to save all that hot and bothered that's going to happen from those sex scenes for me when I get back," I tell her, sitting down in my recliner. Buddy jumps onto the couch with Lilly, resting his large head on her feet. She huffs and resituates herself, stretching her legs in the barely existent space between Bud and the couch cushions.
He is unphased by her movements, already drifting off to sleep. They're two peas in a pod, those two. Headlights flicker in the window as a truck turns into the driveway. I recognize the sound of that dually immediately. Scott's here.
I kiss Lilly and give Buddy a pat on the head on my way out. Scott's wearing the same thing I am, a black shirt and jeans. No words, no logos, just a solid black shirt. The interstate is mostly open in the middle of the day with minimal traffic. We arrive atReaper's place just after three in the afternoon. It's a gloomy day, how fitting for the gloom and doom that is going to ensue.
I've never seen Reaper's home. It's a large, plantation style home that has a gorgeous flower bed in front of the wrap-around porch. There's a terrace pavilion in the yard with hanging string lights and tables set up as if they're having an event here soon or just had one.
Scott knocks on the door and Reaper answers immediately, inviting us inside. His fiancée, Kendra, is sitting on the couch, much in the same way Lilly was when I left. Her long, dark hair is pulled into a messy bun atop her head, her glasses sit low on her nose, she's got the back end of a pen twirling between her teeth and she's reading something on her kindle.
"Hi, guys," she waves as we walk by.
"Hey," Scott greets.
"Hey, Kendra. Good to see you again, dear," I say in passing. Reaper leads us upstairs to a study that even the wealthiest of the world would envy. The desk in the center of the room is hefty and made of a deep mahogany. I feel as if I've just stepped inside the fanciest CEO's office. I guess that isn't far off considering Reaper is CEO of his own company. Self-made millionaire before he was thirty, traveler of the country and the world, and friend of the less fortunate scooter trash like myself.
Scott and I sit in the plush leather chairs across from Reaper's desk. He has two monitors in the right corner of his desk with privacy screens protecting both. On the left is an old. antique banker's lamp and in the center is a laptop. A very thick, hefty, sturdy laptop. It looks like it's got military grade protection on it. Reaper's got the laptop open and taps away at the keys before turning the screen around for Scott and I to see.
On the screen is a video, live footage of a man chained to the ceiling of the room he's in. I lean in closer. I'd recognize that long beard anywhere.Gater.He's dangling just above the cementfloor, the tips of his toes narrowly avoiding the ground. So close that he could almost taste the relief of resting his weight on his feet, yet far enough away that it's nowhere near in reach.
The joy rising inside of me at what this shit bag is feeling is scary. I don't feel an ounce of pity. Or sympathy. Or remorse. I feel....justified.
Chapter Fourteen
Lilly
Cass has been gone for over twenty-four hours, but he's checked in continuously. He said he will be out of town for a few days, and I don't want to stay at the house by myself this whole time, so when Mindy and Linc are good and settled at home, I head over to spend some time with my best friend and my godchild.
I've missed her so much. I think it's because of all of the chaos that has ensued over the last few months, but I feel so distant from her. Even though we've spent a decent amount of time together, it's been overwhelmingly lonely somehow in this brain of mine.
Mindy was so excited when I asked to come visit. I'm bringing a copy of the book I just finished reading to leave with her because shehasto read it so we can discuss the mind-fuckery that I am enduring at being the only one who has read this book that I know.
I wish I was still only a few minutes down the road from her, but the hour drive does my soul some good. I drive with my radio blaring and air conditioning on high to combat the Louisianasummer temps outside. Linc isn't home and I park behind Mindy's car, leaving his parking space open so I don't have to go move my car later.
I grab the book off my passenger seat, my new vape from the center console, and my cup filled with ice water. I barge in through the front door, knocking as I enter.
"Knock, knock!" I whisper, in case Maverick is sleeping.
