Chapter 9
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LORENZO (31YRS)
What was it about this boy that seemed to rile me up in one breath yet had me trying to earn his trust in the next? I didn’t do relationships and except for Remo and Dario, I trusted no one. This eighteen-year-old, however, with his cocky come-backs and cheeky smirk had me on a rollercoaster I hadn’t found myself in a while. Any other time and a witness wouldn’t have seen the light of day past the second he was caught. Why then, had I not gotten rid of him but brought them to my home and intent on giving him free rein over my emotions.
“I guess being kidnapped kinda kills your appetite,” he answered my question with his usual smirk. Then as if realizing he’d crossed the line again, added, “I don’t like turkey.”
“Are you always this cocky?” I asked.
Rayden swallowed, drawing my gaze to his throat and the marks I’d inflicted with my hard hands. A little more pressure and I would’ve crushed his windpipe, killing him. The thought stirred something in me, and I immediately clamped down on the feeling. “Keep this shit up, boy, and I guarantee your welfare will be the least of my worries. Maybe that’s what you want? To be gagged and bound with no water, no food?” I gritted out, irritated more with myself than him. “Then again, if you don’t plan on eating, sooner or later, that cocky attitude will need a lot more than willpower to survive.”
His apologetic expression met my hard stare. “Sorry.”
“What do you like to eat?” My question surprised me just as much as it did Rayden and he hesitated while I tried to rein in my impatience over him unconsciously ambushing my emotions, again.
“Pizza,” he replied.
Without another word, I turned away and signaled for him to follow. Inside the house, Dario approached me. I pointed to the seat at the kitchen counter. “Sit,” I told Rayden. He did as I asked. “Anything?” I asked Dario.
“Nothing. His friends left after a couple more drinks and didn’t seem to bother he was missing. I think they were too drunk.”
I’d asked Dario to return to the club and check if anyone had missed Rayden. “Good.”
“You should’ve killed them. Done.Finito.” Remo muttered, coming up behind me.
I looked at my trigger-happy brother, wondering how he’d survived this long without getting himself killed with his brashness, and yet I was grateful he was by my side every day. “I’ll finish it when I’m ready to, Remo.”
My brother knew better than to argue with me, but snorted, shaking his head. “Fine, have fun with your new toys,” he muttered, the sarcasm in his tone subtle but unmistakable. “I’ll be in the gym.” He threw over his shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.
“What’s the plan?”
I stared at my head of security for a moment. “Would you believe me if I said I had no fucking clue what I’m doing?”
The corner of his lips curled in his usual half smile. “Can’t say I’m not surprised. You’ve never done this before. You plan on letting them go or giving into Remo’s needs?”
“No fucking idea.” I glanced over his shoulder at Rayden who seemed preoccupied with a magazine he found lying on the counter. Remo was right. I should just kill them now. Rubbing my brow absently, I shook my head. “There’s just something about that boy that I can’t put my finger on.”
“Nostalgic about yourself at that age?” Dario mocked. “What about the girl?”
Yes, what about the girl? She was beautiful and I was curious about her relationship with the boy. Yet, nothing a quick fuck couldn’t kill. I could tell she was feisty, eager to fight me and maybe her compliance was just to protect the boy. If that were the case, then her warm pussy might keep my cock satisfied for a little longer or until I got bored which wasn’t unusual. I’d been called a bastard by some brave enough to try. Only to find themselves kissing my shoes again when their lives met an unexpected downfall.
“Has Vincent’s absence been noticed?” I walked further into the kitchen. My head chef and housekeeper nodded their respective greetings.
“Haven’t heard anything yet,” Dario replied.
Rayden stood. “Can I go take a shower, please?” I nodded but he didn’t move. At my cocked brow, he hesitated. “I don’t have any clothes.”
