“Shut up.” The man shoved Ryder forward once more, the movement almost pushing me out the way.
“She loves me.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“Wait!” I shouted this time, my voice swallowed by the bass thundering through the club. The lights above continued to flash, casting harsh lighting across the two men as they struggled like children. “I said stop!”
I snatched up the only thing within reach, which just so happened to be a half-finished beer, and hurled it, glass and all.
It shattered against the wall, drenching them both as they spun toward me, almost identical shocked expressions on their faces.
“Uncuff him. Now!” I demanded, hoping my voice sounded as strong as I’d intended.
“Ah, so, Hendrix, this is Violet. She likes to throw things, don’t you, blondie?” Ryder said, cocking his head to the side to watch me. “Violet, this is my foster brother, Hendrix.”
“Not brothers,” Hendrix bit back.
“You have to release him,” I insisted, facing Hendrix full on. “If you don’t, my mother dies.”
Hendrix blinked at me a moment, his nostrils flaring before he faced Ryder. “What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?”
Chapter 17
Ryder
Typical Hen. This was the third time he’d arrested me as a joke. And he says my sense of humour is childish.
He’d always been a prick with a holier-than-thou attitude ever since we were kids. It was no surprise he went in the opposite direction to me in the career department, even if hewasdodgy as fuck. Guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, considering his bio parents were some criminal masterminds. Allegedly.
“Are we done with this shit?” I asked him, rotating my wrist at an angle that hurt like a bitch. Twisting the pin, the handcuff released with a click.
I handed them back, his eyes narrowing as they clinked in his palm.
That’s right, I picked your fancy new handcuffs. Point to me.
Violet stood, staring at us both. She was a little flustered, her breathing laboured from where she’d worked herself up. Poor little thing hadn’t realised I’d had everything under control.
“She the reason for the encryption?” Hendrix asked, his chin gesturing in her direction.
“Maybe.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Violet snapped, fists clenched at her sides.
Luckily for her, the music swallowed her little tantrum. Chains had zero tolerance for unconsented violence. It was one of the few underground kink clubs where rules actually meant something, a novelty for the kind of people who drifted through their doors.
Hendrix glared at Violet, and I stifled the urge to laugh. Even with a face his wife called, ‘Prince Charming,’ Hen looked like a scary motherfucker with his heavy-set build and intense tattoos. He was as tall as I was, but spent much of his time at the gym compared to my natural god-like physique.
Honestly, it was amusing watching him melt in the presence of his tiny wife when so many people feared him. Except me, because it was hard to fear someone who you once witnessed puke their guts up because they ate too much cake.
You lose all respect for someone who couldn’t handle their baked goods.
But right now, he was all business, his scowl locked in place, destined to stay there until he had no witnesses to what I’d asked him to do. He glanced at Violet, then back at me.
“Blondie, why don’t you go get a drink while my brother and I chat?”
Violet’s gaze lifted to mine, edged with distrust and worry. Seriously, she could face Hendrix without a drop of fear, yet the idea of stepping aside for a moment had her all nervous.
After a moment, she seemed to get herself together and tilt her chin, straightening her shoulders. “I don’t think so.”
