A bottle of bleach next to the sink catches my eye and makes me wonder what would happen if I slipped some in his drink. I wish I knew. Not that I’d ever get away with it. Everyone would know it was me as I’m one of the only few Blake allows to get him a drink.
I go with the safer option, tipping in more alcohol to make it stronger, hoping it will increase the chances of colliding into something on his journey.
Morning at the club means emptiness and quiet. I appreciate this time of day when I’m usually the only one awake, and everyone else is gone. This weekend especially, will be bliss with Blake and the rest of them at the festival in Dawlin.
Not that I will be alone, as Milton’s staying behind to watch me.
The sound of heavy footsteps thumps behind me as I twist the cap back on the bottle. I expect it’s Milton, as he’s usually never far away. But, when I turn and see Grady, Blake’s fourth in command, anxiety squeezes my muscles.
I don’t like him, not one bit. Older than Blake, with haggard features and wild gray hair, he wears a sneer on his face like he doesn’t know any other expression. And I know he isn’t supposed to be here. He should be almost arriving at Dawlin with the rest of them.
“Where’s Blake?” he demands when he sees me.
“Bedroom,” I answer, and step back when he closes the kitchen door, shutting us both inside.
“And Milton?” Something inside of me knows I should lie.“He’ll be back in a second.” A cold sweat breaks out over my skin as he stalks forward, cornering me in. “What are you doing?”
“Getting back what should be mine. May as well have my fun before taking out the big man, seeing as he keeps boasting about how tight your cunt is.”
My head hits the counter and knocks the air from my lungs. When hearing the distinctive sound of his belt and zipper, I begin to struggle, scouring the counter for anything to stab or hit him with. I try grabbing the liquor bottle I was using, but it’s just out of my reach, and I scream, “No!”
“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, holding me down and exposing my rear to him. Forcing his fingers unexpectedly inside of me, I squeal with horror from the intrusion. “So wet,” he marvels. “Does this turn you on?”
My nails claw at the countertop as he kicks my legs apart, but just before he pushes himself inside, the door bursts open. “Where the fuck is my drink—”
Blake stands in the doorway, eyes sparking with fury as he takes in the scene. Growling out with anger, he’s across the room in seconds and pulling Grady off me, bashing him in the face with his fist.
As Blake swings his fist to hit him again, Grady dodges and elbows him in the nose instead. My heart leaps when Blake stumbles back, blood spraying from his nostrils down his chin as if someone turned on the faucet to its highest setting.
Taking the opportunity, Grady moves fast, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. Blake’s knees buckle as Grady sneers, “You are over, Blake. We want you out of the presidency.”
Blake laughs. “You mean you want me out.”
Grady twists his arm again, and something cracks. Blake yells out in a way I’ve never heard before. “You’ve got more foes than you have allies under this roof. Even ones in your inner circle,” he reveals. “You’re driving this place to the ground with your wars and bloodshed. My father worked too hard to make Devil Horns mean something. You and that boy of yours aren’t fit to lead.”
A shadow appears in the doorway, and stomach flips when I see Milton aiming a gun at Grady’s head. From this angle, he can’t see him, but Blake does, and he sighs. “Should’ve killed me when you had the chance. Better luck in Hell, fucker.”
Gunfire booms, and a bullet hits the side of Grady’s face, then he crashes to the floor. I stumble back, horrified as blood forms a pool beneath him. Letting out a croaky laugh, Blake turns to Milton. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“The feds were on my ass,” he says, stowing his gun away. “I had to divert.”
Grabbing a chair for support, Blake heaves himself off the floor, clutching his chest as he does. Peering over his shoulder, he eyes me furiously. “You. Get here. Bring my fucking drink.”
Shaking from head to toe, I grab his drink and go over to him, circling the dead man in the middle of the kitchen. Once I’m in reaching distance, he holds the glass and downs it in one swallow. Then he slams me up against the fridge. “You cheating on me, whore? Did he touch you?”
“Blake—”
“Did he touch you?” I sob, nodding, as he growls. “Where?”
“He put his fingers inside of me,” I admit, tears once again drenching my face. I can’t look at Milton, shame burning through me.
Blake’s eyes go from disgust to anger. A dangerous series of reactions that make me worry about my life. “And did you like it?” I blink a few times in disbelief, glancing at Milton, who is staring at the floor. “Don’t look at him. Answer me!”
“No!”
“I don’t believe you.” I gasp when he throws me at Milton, as he often does when he’s had enough of the sight of me. Hands catch me as they always do, and I break into a sob, wishing this nightmare would end. Milton gives my shoulder a little squeeze. Pull yourself together. “Get her cleaned up and ready to leave in thirty minutes. You are both coming to Dawlin with me.”
Chapter Eleven
Two Years
