: Chapter 52

“You need any help there?” Liam asks, looking at me hopefully. All the Ryan brothers are built like monster trucks, but Liam can be especially menacing.

His older brother Conor lays a hand on his massive shoulder. “Does the man look like he needs any help?”

Liam studies me as though he’s taking the question seriously. “Nah. I suppose not. I just wanted in on the fun.”

It’s been two days since we rescued Amelia. Two days of me pampering her and cocooning her and fucking her senseless. Two days of us reconnecting and planning for a future together that I can’t wait to start.

We have dinner at my dad’s house tonight, which she and the rest of my family are incredibly excited about. And so am I. It feels even more important than when I introduced her to them before, back when a part of me was still wondering if I had it in me to do the whole commitment thing. But now I’m surer than I’ve ever been of anything in my life. Sure of her. Of us. Before any of that, though, I have some business to take care of.

We’re back at the abandoned car repair shop in Hell’s Kitchen, the place where she was tied up and held hostage. The three of us walk toward the room at the back where I found her, our boots crunching on broken glass and fuck knows what else.

“Here you go, Drake,” Conor says, holding the door open for me. He grimaces as it falls off its hinges. “A little gift for you, from my brothers and me.”

Inside, portable lights have been rigged up to make the place a lot brighter than it was the last time I was here. In the center of the room, two men sit tied to chairs. Both of them have gags stuffed in their mouths, and they look completely fucking terrified. As they should.

“You want us to stay?” Conor asks. “Just in case. There are two of them.”

I shoot him a look, and he holds his hands up in surrender. “No offense, pal.”

“None taken. And feel free to stay. You might enjoy it.”

“Shit,” says Liam, grinning at me and leaning against the wall. “If I’d known, I woulda brought popcorn.”

I stretch my shoulders and crack my neck. “You don’t know me.” I flex my hands and loom over the two men tied up. “But you took something from me. Something precious. And now you’re going to pay. First, I’m going to beat the living shit out of you. Then I might slice your throats. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

I tear the gag out of Declan Boyle’s mouth, and he immediately starts bleating. “What the fuck, Conor! What the fuck! Does Shane know about this?”

“Sure,” Conor replies, a vicious smile on his lips. “It was his idea, Declan. You’ve been a pain in our ass for too long, and this time you crossed a line.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know the stupid bitch was anything special?”

I slap him hard across the face, and the whole chair goes sprawling to the floor. I kneel down and hold my knife beneath one of his pig-like eyes. He goes pale and starts to beg, but all I use the knife for is to cut his ropes. Then I do the same with the other prick, his cousin. Both of them stand up, looking around the room, their scared eyes darting from me to the Ryans.

“Don’t worry about them,” I say. “They’re not getting involved. Worry about me.”

I make a come-and-get-me gesture with my hands, and I can tell the precise moment they decide they can take me. The fucking fools both run at me at once, and I almost feel sorry for them. My rage makes me superhuman. They don’t stand a chance.

We leave the building a couple hours later. It feels weird to step out into sunlight, back into the civilized world. My sweatpants and T-shirt are covered in blood, my knuckles are scarred and swollen, and I have a nasty cut over my left eye. But, to use an old saying, you should see the other guys.

The other guys are in rough shape. In fact, they’re both barely conscious, and in Boyle’s case, missing part of an ear. I broke ribs, fingers, jaws, and cheekbones. I spilled blood and busted lips and snapped tendons. And still, it didn’t feel like enough. I wanted to kill them, and the Ryans wouldn’t have blinked an eye at that. They might be tough clients from a legal perspective, but they’re definitely guys who would help get rid of a body.

In the end, I didn’t kill them. Or maybe I did. Maybe it’ll just take a real long time for them to die. I tied them both back up and stuffed the gags back in their broken, gap-toothed mouths, ignoring their screams of agony.

“I’m going now,” I said once they were both bound and bleeding, their eyes pleading for mercy. “I’m going to close the door on this building, and I’m going to pay someone to padlock the place. Maybe add some steel doors and window shutters to make it extra secure. Nobody is getting in or out for a very long time. The only living creatures in here will be you and the rats. I hear rats like the scent of blood, and I know they like eating rotting flesh. Maybe someone will find you before they chew out your eyes and bite through your dicks. But then again, maybe not.”

Boyle managed to slam one of his feet down onto the ground, and I kicked his ankle repeatedly until I was sure the little bones down there were shattered. Then I stamped on his foot, just to make my point. Tears poured from his battered, swollen eyes, and he let out muffled screams around the gag. He really didn’t look so good when I left him there. I wouldn’t be surprised if a heart attack takes him out before the rats have a chance to get to him.

We walked out and left them there with no light, no water, no food, and no way to communicate or cry for help. The Ryans are silent as we make our way to our vehicles. Liam passes me a big plastic bottle of water and some alcohol wipes from the back of their truck. They’re the kind of men who keep that shit on hand.

I clean myself up. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate the favor.”

Liam looks at me and shakes his head. “Are you actually intending to leave them in there to get eaten alive by rats?”

“I don’t have a problem with that. They hurt the person I love more than anything or anyone else in the world. Getting eaten by rats is too good for them. But if you want to go back in and get them out, I won’t hold it against you.”

Conor sucks on his teeth. “I don’t think it’s the kind of mess Shane would want being found, so we’ll probably come back for them in the morning. But regardless of what we do with them, they won’t bother you or your girl again.”

“Yeah. And Drake,” Liam says, giving me a look that communicates a newfound respect, “you know we spar with Nathan every Tuesday and Thursday morning, right? You should really think about joining us and working off a little of that aggression.” He laughs, and I join him, amused at the irony of Liam Ryan, one of the most violent men in the country, insinuating that I have anger problems. I don’t. Not as a rule, anyway. Only when it comes to anyone fucking with my girl.

Maybe I will join them though. If only to keep in shape for all the sex I’ll be having.