“Club,” Killa grunts.
The douche’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“You called it a gang; it’s a fuckin’ club, ya dipshit. Now”—he leans down so he’s in the guy’s face, and a lump gathers in my throat—“fuck. Off.” And I swear he growls it out like a rabid beast.
For a split second, I thought the guy was going to object or ask another question.
Killa’s eyes darken and his fists pump. He takes a step toward the guy, and I swallow hard.
Oh God, please don’t start a fight where I work.
“She’s not worth it,” the guy huffs and trips over his feet as he rushes away.
“You”—Killa points at me, and my body comes alive, eager to comply with his demands—“leave your door unlocked tonight.”
What?
“I…” Before I can question him further, he’s striding through the door like a man on a mission, leaving me full of trepidation and anticipation.
What I know is, I’ll be locking my door tonight.
After everything I’ve been through, there’s no way in hell I’ll be leaving us so vulnerable again.
KILLA
Watching the jumped-up little prick who looked fresh out of an Ivy League foam at the mouth for a piece of Cassidy had every cell in my body come alive with a need to pulverize him. To destroy those squeaky-clean good looks until he was unrecognizable.
There’s no way in hell I’m letting someone like him touch what’s mine.
Is this the kind of prick she likes? Does the kid’s father look like this prick too? All slick and strait-laced and well on his way to a white-collar career. Hunter needs to work quicker, deliver me more fucking answers before Igo insane.
A jealous streak flashes through me and clogs in my throat, something I haven’t felt before.
Possession.
I take a quick photo of his light-blue Polestar as he drives away. A need to ride out after him overcomes me. There’s no way in hell I can let him get away with touching what’s mine, let alone speaking to her like that. Only I can do that.
Before I know what I’m doing, I flip the kickstand and rev the engine, then take off in the same direction the prick is headed.
Feeling the growl of my beast between my legs, the wind in my hair, and the promise of satiating my balls tonight, I’m buzzing with adrenaline, darting between the cars. I keep far enough behind I can see the little prick but stay undetected. The last thing I want is him hearing my hog, but something tells me the idiot is oblivious to danger. Daddy probably keeps him out of trouble with some scratch in the right pockets.
By the time he turns into a gated community in Berry Hill, dusk has fallen, and I smile at how easy this is going to be. I shoot Hunter a quick message with the photo of the gates and the guy’s license plate and wait.
I get off my bike and lean against it, surveying the area while I wait the few minutes he will take to respond with a gate code and house number. I have no doubt Hunter will wipe all evidence of me being here off the system, and the standard time we have, unless preplanned, is twenty minutes to be in and out before the cameras are back to recording. That’s okay, I only need a few minutes for what I’m about to do.
A buzz of excitement whips up my spine as I cross the road and head over to the mansions behind the gates.
Hunter has sent me the code to the rich and famous, and my grin widens when I look down at my phone to see the house number.
Perfect.
Knowing the cameras are off makes my little self-invitation easier than ever. I literally push open the community gate, slip inside, and head straight to the house.
It looks more like a damn hotel than a family home. I bypass the front door, heading to the side gate, push it open, and step into a lavish garden, complete with a swimming pool and grotto.
Holy shit, are those animals made of bushes?
I shake my head; rich people are insane. Damn garden looks like a fucking zoo.
