I could listen to her play for weeks on end and never tire of it.
But for all I know, her father treated her like a motherfucking princess and her experience with Elliott was the first time she’s ever been mistreated. Maybe her father beat the hell out of her as a decoy, to make mebelieveshe’d been hurt.
I don’t have any proof to the contrary, and that’s what’s sending me out of my goddamn mind.
“Shit,” Rome mutters, and my gaze comes up to see the armored SUV roll up in front of the warehouse. “Fuckingshit.”
“We don’t have any backup,” I mutter. “But we can attack and kill these fuckers.”
“I’m with you.”
Rome and I both grab extra firepower out of the front of the car, and then we’re silently on the move, coming around the warehouse from behind.
I hear them bust down the door, and I can hear voices. I motion for Rome to stop, and we listen.
“He said nine,” someone growls. “I heard it plain as day. He must have been fucking her for all I know, his voice was so clear.”
They’re all going to die.
And then I have to deal with mywife.
“Well there’s nothing here,” another says, and I nod at Rome.
We move through the door to behind them, still silent. There are four of them.
Two are dead from blades slicing their necks before the other two realize what’s happened.
“Shit!”
They don’t have time to say anything else before we have them on the ground, restrained and gagged, and then I call Jack.
“I need transport,” I tell him. “I have two for the cell.”
It’s been morethan twenty-four hours. Actually, it’s well past noon now, so we’ve been working these assholes over for a long time, taking shifts.
I haven’t been home. What little sleep I got was in one of the extra apartments upstairs in my building. I can’t stomach looking at her right now, let alone being in the same room with her, and as good as I am at keeping a straight face, I’m afraid that I’ll let my rage take over and I’ll put a bullet in her head.
I’m so fucking pissed off.
She knows that I’m working, and that’s all she needs to know. I have men keeping an eye on her. She spent yesterday at the spa and then stayed in last night.
And I fucking hate myself for missing her.
Because all the evidence points to Natasha being the one feeding information to her father to fuck with my business. Putting my men, myfamily, in danger. Men are dead because of her.And she is going to pay for that.
“Wake up,” Mateo barks at the first of the two men that we have hanging in the basement of my building. He slaps him across the face, making him moan.
These two have had a shit twenty-four hours.
Their faces are both swollen, barely able to see through eyelids the size of golf balls. We relieved Number One of his left foot, then cauterized it so he didn’t bleed out.
Number Two no longer has fingernails or molars, and just an hour ago, we decided he could live without his hips being in their respective joints.
That had to fucking hurt like a bitch.
And yet, they still don’t want to talk. So, it’s time to get more creative.
“Don’t know,” Number One mutters, and I get closer.
