Not ever.
He’s about to meet the devil and I can only hope he’s given everything he deserves in the afterlife. I know I won’t be able to torture him nearly enough in this life to balance the scales. Nothing could, not in this reality.
In hell? With the devil himself wielding the whip?
Maybe.
Playboy comes up behind him and leans down near his ear. “Boo,” he barks out just as he reaches around and yanks the tape off his mouth.
Sylvester startles and looks over his shoulder with fear painting his features. Playboy only grins in response.
“Do you have any idea who I am?” Sylvester’s voice is high, tight, and just on the edge of shrill.
“I know that you’re a fucking dead man who still happens to be breathing,” Playboy throws the words out there like they aren’t acidic. He chuckles, the sound a low rumble of violent amusement. “I also know you’ll crumple like a little bitch when punched.”
Figuring out quickly that he’s not going to get anywhere with Playboy—who stands at his full height and crosses his arms across his chest as if this place needs a bouncer—Sylvester’s gaze moves back to Ryker. He has no idea I’m the one he should fear, not yet, but he’ll learn soon enough.
“Look,” he starts, making his voice placating and far too fucking patronizing for this room, “you don’t know who you’re messing with. I think there’s been some misunderstandingbecause I’m just here to collect my fiancé, and then I’ll take her back to Phoenix.”
My brothers start to grumble behind me, but I don’t take my eyes off the man in the chair.
Ryker’s voice is deep and filled with a foreboding which is easy for me to hear, but goes right over Sly’s head, “I know exactly who you are. I also know who you’re here for.” Sylvester practically slumps back into the chair as if he truly believes he’s about to be let go. He isn’t. “You won’t be taking Graycie anywhere.”
“You know Graycie?” Sylvester’s voice is incredulous as he looks around again, closer this time. “Then you should just hand her over now. I don’t know what she told you, but she’s unstable. Her parents and I have been searching for her for months. She’s a danger to herself and others. I’m here to get her and get her the help she needs.”
My hand moves without me even realizing it. I backhand the man in front of me, the sound of it is loud in the quiet of the room. Sylvester’s head snaps to the side and he lets out a whimper. My lip curls in disgust. This is the man who thinks he can take a whip to a woman without any fucking consequences?
He turns his head toward me slowly, his eyes calculating. Just when I think he’s going to breakdown and become a sniveling mess, he smirks. “Oh, I see,” his voice is lazy, “she let you into her sweet pussy. Now you fancy yourself her knight in shining armor. Stop me when I’m wrong.”
Playboy makes a clicking sound with his tongue but doesn’t comment. I know it’s killing him; the man loves to talk and taunt.
Sylvester looks me over and, clearly, finds me wanting even though he’s really not in a position to judge a damn thing, least of all me. I don’t bother introducing myself. He doesn’t need to know considering he won’t be living much longer.
“You know,” he pitches his voice into something conspiratorial, “I was her first? She held onto her virginity for a long fucking time. But her sweet cherry is all mine.” He shakes his head, fake pity written on his face. “Her parents basically wrapped a bow around her for me.”
I backhand him again and this time he cackles. Fucking cackles like a lunatic.
When I think of her parents, I’m tempted to track them down and teach them a lesson. I force myself to find solace in the fact that she’ll never talk to them again. They might not know it, but they’ll be missing out on her bright future, one they could have shared in if they weren’t so fucking worthless.
“You might have had her since she came here, but I had her first.” His lip curls up, the lecherous look on his face tempting me to pull out my gun and be done with this. But I want to give him back even a fraction of the pain he inflicted on my woman first. “She would make a good whore for your club,” he muses, “since she’s used goods now.”
I glare down at the man, the man who dared to hurt my Angel. My lip curls, the disgust clear to read on my face. As I shake my head slowly, I tell him the truth of things, “You think it matters that you were her first? You think her purity has something to do with her virginity? And that I would care?”
I huff out a laugh and roll my eyes while my brothers yuck it up behind me because the suggestion is ridiculous. We might be a lot of fucking things, but we’re not hypocrites. The surety andsmugness written on his face slowly drains right along with his color. He’s white as a sheet when I lean closer and smile.
But it’s not a kind smile, not the one my Graycie-girl gets. It’s pure sin and retribution wrapped in barbed wired.
“I’ll give you that you were her first,” I tell him, the words burning my throat, “but I’ll be her last. Considering the way she moans my name, I’m the only one she’ll ever remember. I’ll make sure of it,” I promise.
His eyes narrow and I can feel the hatred he has for me. But I don’t give a fuck. Because I’ve got the girl.
Graycie is mine and I’m never letting her go.
“I’m the one she wraps her body around and snuggles into. I’m the one who makes her feel safe.” I click my tongue and my brothers make sounds of displeasure, the sound rising and falling in the space around us.
“You hurt her,” I spit the words, my hands fisting at my sides while the need to make it right, to cause him triple the amount of pain she had to endure, roars to the forefront.
“You hurt her when you should have been protecting her. I’ll make sure the horrors you inflicted are memories that feel so far away they can’t be real. I’ll have her on the back of my bike, wrapped around my body, or maybe I’ll caress her pregnant belly.”