Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
The man was… ruggedly beautiful. With olive skin, dark chocolate eyes, and black hair that looked as soft as silk, the man was gorgeous. It was the scar that sliced through his eyebrow and the hard set to his mouth that made him rugged. But his touch was soft as he caught a tear and gently wiped it away.
“Sit back, perrito,” he murmured, his voice soft and barely audible.
I trembled, unsure of what to do. Master hadn’t given the command, so I was still on punishment. Usually, Master took me off punishment before allowing his… friends to play with me.
“Master—”
“None of that,” he murmured, his voice barely audible to my own ears. “Sit back.” I slowly did as he instructed, planting my ass on the floor. Once the pressure was gone, my hands and knees immediately started throbbing, and more tears slid down my cheeks. The man cupped my cheeks, catching my tears and eyeing them like he hated they were being wasted. When his eyes met mine again, they were even darker and filled with rage. I flinched back from him. He tightened his hold on my face. “Can you do me a favor?”
I nodded. He smiled then—a soft smile that settled my racing heart and eased some of the trembling fear that had set in my bones. “Rico, what are you doing with my boy?” Master demanded, easing out of his chair. My eyes snapped to his, wide with fear, but Rico moved into my line of vision, blocking my view of Master.
“Squeeze your eyes shut, perrito, and hold your hands over your ears as tight as you can, okay? Your misery ends tonight.”
As he stood to his full height, I quickly did as he said, plastering my hands to my ears so hard, my temples pulsed with pain. Lights danced behind my eyeballs as I squeezed my eyes shut.
But that first gunshot was still extremely loud.
And my screams of terror filled the air.
CHAPTER TWO
Rico
“Iwant to welcome you to my home with a little tasty treat, Rico. It’s called Anurak.”
That’s what that mother fucker had said to me when I’d taken a seat at his table down in that dingy, rank basement.
Anurak was a sweet-looking boy with pain in his nearly black eyes—a pain that tore at my soul and made me fucking rage. I had a particular hatred for abusers and traffickers, but seeing that boy on his hands and knees, tears rolling down his cheeks and blood staining his skin—his blood—made me murderous.
I’d come here for a possible business deal—a deal to expand on my weapons trade. The first mistake this fucker had made was thinking I wanted any part of his sick, demented interests—interests I’d had no idea he was sticking his fingers into. I had no interest in watching a boy crawl for me. Had no interest in an unwilling, terrified partner. I had any number of boys ready to do my bidding. All I had to do was make one phone call.
But seeing Anurak looking up at me with those big eyes, eyes silently pleading for anyone to save him, had wrecked something inside of me. I wanted him. Needed him. But I had to get him out of here first. Had to get him safe and clean and doctored up. Had to show him that he was safe and that no one would ever harm him again without his consent.
When he squeezed his eyes shut just as I’d told him to and flattened his bloody palms over his ears, I stood and grabbed my gun, putting a bullet in each of Frederick’s business partners’ skulls. When Frederick lifted his gun, aiming it at me, I fired a shot that went clean through both of his wrists. When the door upstairs opened, bright light flooding the dim basement, I put a shot through that guard’s throat.
The boy was screaming despite his ears being covered and his eyes being shut, the sound slicing through my ear drums to settle deep in my chest like his fear was a living, breathing thing inside of me. I raked my fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe him. He curled around my leg, his little body trembling. Arching a brow at Frederick, I sneered. “How did you get him?” I demanded.
I didn’t have long before he bled out, and I wanted answers.
“I got him a few years ago from Johnny Dorman,” he spat at me.
At least that son of a bitch had been dealt with already. Johnny Dorman had been an attorney with sick, twisted tastes. He’d run a trafficking ring in the basement of his building and another up in Canada. Between my men and the Ghost Born MC, who I had connections with through Jax Gresham, a kid I’d protected to the best of my ability and had reconnected with when he’d gotten out of prison, we’d taken out all of the major players—people ranging from politicians to attorneys to law enforcement.