Gunner kicks him in the face, blood goes flying from his mouth. “There were three of you at the bar.”
“Fuck … you …”
Gunner stomps on his hand, making him cry out.
Once I have my man secured where I want him, I wrap the chain around the hook on the floor. Watching the guy hang there, I dig into his pocket, removing his car keys, wallet and cell phone. “What’s this?” I ask, pulling out a pill bottle. The prescription has been scratched off. But it’s not hard to figure out what the white pills are—rohypnol. “You were going to drug them.” I state. That’s why they were so adamant about getting them drinks.
“Hand me one of those.” Gunner gestures to another chain. I toss it to him, and he does the same thing with his guy. Also removing his belongings.
We exit the basement and walk up the stairs to find the two security guards standing there, making sure that no one came down to bother us. “Give them an hour.” I say and they nod. “Let the bastards fucking hang there.”
“Yes, sir,” they say in unison and nod.
Blake and I have been staying in the apartment above Blackout for three days, and I hate it. I’m not one to hide out, but it’s been our only option. I’ve had new cameras placed at the cabin and all around the property. I want to watch them for another week to see if Matt is hanging out there. So far, nothing. But he hasn’t been at the house of Lords. Meaning the fucker is also in hiding. He won’t do that for long, so my question is, what is he waiting on?
What is the opportunity he needs to make his move? And what the fuck is that going to be? Will he take her away from me? Or will he just kill her and leave her where her body falls for me to find? Either one is an option he’s considering.
I hate not knowing, and Blake is starting to go stir-crazy. She wants out of this damn club and back to the cabin. Doesn’t she understand, I’d much rather us be alone in the middle of nowhere than here?
I just keep telling myself a little longer. Matt will get restless, and when he does, I’ll be there to cut his fucking head clean off his body.
I stand on the balcony of the second story of Blackout and watch the girls dance below. Gunner brought Sarah over tonight. I figured some drinks would loosen Blake up and remind her that she’s not a prisoner here.
We didn’t bring much with us, so Sarah had brought her a dress and a pair of heels. Of course, I didn’t approve, but she had nothing else to wear. The moment I rip it off her later, I’m giving it back to Sarah. I’m surprised Gunner hasn’t already burned it.
My cell vibrates in my back pocket, and I pull it out to read the text.
Tomorrow night; Blackout.
Shit! My eyes look back down at my wife, and she’s smiling with a drink in one hand and her cell in the other. I made her take it with her. She stops bouncing around and takes a drink before holding up her phone. She reads over the text, her body going rigid. Then she turns and looks up at me.
Placing my forearms on the railing, I lean over it and stare down at her, trying to look unfazed by what I just received. Honestly, she’s ready. My girl has proven that she’s capable of taking on more than I thought.
The black lights bounce off her pretty blue eyes, and I can tell from here how large they are at the moment.
Sarah taps her shoulder, but she ignores her. A second later, she puts her drink down and heads toward the stairs. I push off the banister and go to meet her.
“I got my text,” she says, now panting from running up the stairs in heels.
“I know. I got one too.” Hers would be different than mine, but they mean the same thing. It’s time for her initiation.
She licks her lips. “Ryat, what if …？”
“You’re going to be fine.” I place my hands on her shoulders. “You won’t see me, but I’ll be here, okay?” She nods quickly. “Then you’ll meet me at the cathedral,” I remind her, and she nods again. “Hey.” I pull her into me. “It’s not until tomorrow night, so go back down there and have fun with Sarah.” I can’t believe I just said that. I’d much rather us be in bed than her shaking her ass on a dance floor for other men to watch. The big rock on her hand doesn’t hurt, though. I wanted something that said fuck off—I’m married, and my husband will gut you—from far away. I think I made the right decision.
“Okay.” She reaches up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. “I love you.”
I run my hands through her tangled, sweaty hair. “I love you too, little one.” Then she turns and heads back down the stairs, much slower than when she ran up them.