When he finally pulls back, he holds my stare. “I’ll call a friend of mine. He’ll come fix your door,” he tells me before striding over to my broken door. Then with one quick move, his arm shoots up above the door frame, and before I know it, my giant dildo is suction cupped to the drywall, way too high for me to reach.

  Alex turns back, grinning at me like the fucking devil, and as I shake my head, he slowly backs out of my apartment, leaving me giddy, worked up, and grinning like a fucking idiot as the dildo gently sways above.

  It takes a little over an hour for Alex’s friend to show up with my new door, and I watch eagerly as the two men get to work. To my disappointment, they have the new door hung in less than twenty minutes, but the job isn’t done without a few suggestive glances from Alex, each one getting me more worked up than the last. Especially considering the massive dildo that hangs above his head.

  His friend refuses payment as he was apparently repaying Alex for a favor, and while I’m grateful that this bullshit hasn’t left a dent in my wallet, I’m also apprehensive about the fact that I now owe Alex a favor in return. Though, something tells me that’ll easily be repaid.

  Crew hasn’t stopped blowing up my phone and the minute Alex and his friend are out the door, so am I. I’ve had enough of this shit.

  Pulling out my phone, I send off a quick text, ignoring the string of unread ones that flood through my phone.

  Kyah - Where the hell are you?

  Crew - High Voltage.

  Anger burns through my body, and I storm out of my building, hitting the street and hightailing it to High Voltage. I don’t know whether to be angry, confused, hurt, or betrayed. Maybe all of them. All I know is that I’ve never regretted being with Crew more.

  I just don’t get it. Everything was so cool between us before we had sex, but I guess what they say is true—sex changes everything. I guess I just wasn’t expecting it. Especially after our talk at the bar. He seemed so chill with everything, he was down to keep waiting while knowing that I was still in my wanna have fun phase. We agreed, but at the shop yesterday morning, that whole plan went to shit.

  Did something happen that I missed? Did I misunderstand his intentions? Or did he just assume that after spending the night rocking my world, I wouldn’t be able to resist falling madly in love with him?

  God. Sometimes men can be such idiots.

  The walk to High Voltage only takes ten minutes, and before I know it, I’m gripping the door handle and throwing it open. “What in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you, Crew Ledger?” I demand as the bell chimes above my head.

  I storm around the reception area to find Crew sitting at his station, working on sketches, a bottle of whiskey open beside him. His head snaps up, and there’s nothing but pure fury in his dark eyes. “The fuck did you just say?” he demands, getting to his feet. “I’ve been calling you since last night, and you’ve ignored every single one of my fucking messages. Where the fuck have you been?”

  Crew strides right into me, his eyes glassy and bloodshot, and I shove my hands against his chest, forcing him back a step. “Are you kidding me?” I snap, the anger raging through my body as I tear my phone out of my back pocket and bring up his messages. I start reciting them for him. “Where the fuck are you? Answer me now. You better not be whoring yourself out. Missed call. Missed call. Missed call. Answer my fucking calls, Kyah. Where the fuck are you? And that’s just the messages from this morning,” I spit. “I’m assuming you don’t need me to read through the bullshit I got last night?”

  Crew snatches the phone out of my hand and tosses it across the shop, aiming for the chair in my station, but it slides right off and the screen smashes against the ground. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I roar, whipping around to grab my phone and check the damage, only Crew grabs my elbow and yanks me back toward him.

  I stumble and fall against his chest, his grip bruising around my arm. “You belong to me,” Crew growls.

  “The fuck I do,” I spit, ripping my arm free of his tight grip. “Do you hear yourself right now? We fucked. It was fun. But that’s it, and considering the way you’ve been behaving ever since, I guarantee that was the last time you’ll ever touch me. You have no fucking right to me. You don’t get to message me at all hours of the night, demanding I come over, and you sure as fuck don’t get to kick down my fucking door and welcome yourself into my apartment. We’re over, Crew. Whatever the fuck you thought was going to happen between us is done. You’ve crossed a line.”

  Crew clenches his jaw, and in a flash of lightning, he rears back before striking forward, his fist cracking against my jaw. I fall back, crying out in agony as I crash into Crew’s table with relentless momentum, my ribs instantly bruising against the sharp corner of the table as ink and equipment sprawl across the floor.

  My face aches, and I grasp my cheek, almost certain my jaw is dislocated, and as I catch myself, stabilizing on my feet, I turn my horrified stare toward Crew, barely able to process what the fuck just happened.

  He hit me. The one man who’s supposed to love me, who’s stood by my side since the day I stormed into High Voltage Ink at seventeen. The man who vowed that one day he’d be my forever. He broke my trust. Betrayed me, and now . . . He laid his fucking hands on me.

  Never again.

  My hands shake as Crew gapes at me, unable to believe what he’s done. “Ky,” he breathes, looking down at his closed fist in shock. “I didn’t mean . . . I swear, Kyah. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  Crew inches toward me, and I flinch, backing up a step, hating the traitorous tears that well in my eyes. “Don’t you dare come any closer,” I warn, spitting through my clenched jaw as the pain rocks through my face, but considering I’m able to talk, maybe it’s not dislocated after all, just fucking sore.

  “Kyah, please,” he says, staring at me in horror. “It was an accident. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just worked up, and you were saying shit and it . . . it just happened. I love you. You have to believe that. You know me.”

  “You don’t fucking love me, Crew,” I spit, disgusted by the pathetic excuse of a man standing before me. “You want to own me. I’m nothing but a fucking possession to you, and letting you touch me, letting you fuck me . . . I’ve never regretted anything more. So hear me now, Crew—we’re done. You’ll never fucking touch me again.”

  And with that, I grab my smashed phone and storm out of High Voltage Ink, and as tears roll down my cheeks, I vow to myself that from here on out, Crew Ledger is dead to me.

  14

  REID

  My hands coil into tight fists at my side as I watch Kyah storm out of High Voltage Ink, rage pounding through my veins like poison, infecting me from the inside out. The way she grips the side of her face, agony flashing in those bright blue eyes . . . fuck.

  I’ve always gotten off on seeing the woman I’ve toyed with screaming for her life, but there’s something different about the way Kyah hurts. I don’t like it, and it grates on my nerves that I don’t understand why.

  When I followed her here this afternoon, I expected a lot of things. I’ve seen the messages Crew sent her and watched as she gritted her teeth while ignoring his insistent calls. I expected him to get on his knees and grovel for forgiveness, that she would put him in his place and then coddle him like she always does, but instead, she stormed in there like the vicious little devil she is and laid down the law. It was the most thrilling thing I’ve ever seen—until it wasn’t.

  When his fist cracked across her jaw, I saw red, and when she cried out loud enough for me to hear the agony in her tone from outside the shop, I’ve never wanted to kill someone more in my life.

  I always knew Crew Ledger was a small man with his begging and incessant whining, but when it comes to Kyah, I didn't think he could take it this far. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't realize how badly yet. He put his hands on what’s mine, and for that, he will suffer the consequences.

  There’s no mistaking it, Crew Ledger is going to die.

  He’s a piece of shit and there’s no doubt in my mind that Kyah has no fucking idea who she’s been screwing with, because if she knew, if she had any fucking idea what kind of bullshit Crew was involved with, she wouldn’t even be able to look him in the eye. She’d despise him and go out of her way just to see him locked up, even if it meant risking her life in the process.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out. Crew Ledger is a messy guy and leaves trails of breadcrumbs everywhere he goes. It was only a matter of putting the pieces together, and when you’re as observant as I am, finding out people’s dirty little secrets comes as natural as breathing. And Crew Ledger, he’s about as bad as they come. But what’s worse is the way he has everybody fooled, especially Kyah.

  To be fair, it’s not as though he’s the mastermind behind the organization. No, that honor goes to his big brother, Mason Ledger, the number one organized crime boss in the state. He specializes in human trafficking. Crew, bless his cotton socks, resisted working for the bastard for quite some time, but desperate men do desperate things, and over the past year, Crew has taken to the family business like a duck to water.

  Like I said, piece of shit.

  But today, the family business is about to experience one hell of a setback.

  I’m under no illusion. I know I’m no better than that asshole. My chosen career isn’t exactly winning me any awards, but at least a woman knows what she’s getting when she interacts with the man who sneaks through her bedroom window. Crew Ledger pretends he’s a knight in shining armor, but then he does shit like beat his woman behind closed doors.

  I mean sure, I might enjoy a little murder here and there, and it might get me off in a way sex never could, but at least I’m not Crew Ledger.

  My gaze trails down the street, watching as Kyah disappears around the corner, and the second she’s completely out of sight, I step out of the shadows, the rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins.

  God, I love this.

  The excitement pulses through me, and I have to keep myself from breaking into a sprint, using the short walk across the street to figure out a game plan. I usually go into this with caution, never unprepared, always making sure I have the tools required to clean up after myself and keep my identity hidden. But Kyah’s got me all fucked up.

  I’m being reckless and rushing into this. I don’t usually get off on killing men, and yet the image of Crew’s fist cracking against Kyah’s jaw spurs me on. Hell, just knowing what he and his brother have planned for her has me ready to slaughter him like fucking cattle.

  No one touches what’s mine.

  I go through my options, figuring out how to do this while mentally mapping the security cameras inside the shop. There’s one in each corner. I’m going to have to keep my head down, perhaps stage a break-in. It’s not the first time I’ve had to do it. Like I said, it’s reckless, but there’s no stopping me now.

  Reaching the sidewalk, I pull the sleeves of my black hoodie down over my hands before reaching for the door handle, being careful not to leave a single fingerprint behind. I’ve always been cautious with my kills, making sure the feds can’t link this shit back to me, and I’m not about to start making their job easier now.

  Shoving past the door, it opens wide, and the bell chimes through the small shop.

  “We’re closed,” Crew slurs from somewhere in the back.

  Not responding, I keep my head down and continue through the shop as my gaze shoots from left to right to quickly figure out a game plan. It’s gonna be messy, but the good ones always are.

  Hearing that I haven’t left, Crew stands, whipping around with his glassy stare. “I said we’re closed,” he spits, wobbling on his feet, the bottle of whiskey almost empty on his table.

  A grin splits my face. This is going to be better than I anticipated.

  Striding past Big Jim’s station, I swipe everything off his table and watch as ink bottles scatter and shatter across the room, saturating the floor with vibrant colors.

  “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Crew growls, storming toward me as I casually stride around Big Jim’s station, not daring to venture over to Kyah’s. After all, this is going to be messy, and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving something like this for her to clean up.

  Crew reaches for me, but I quickly sidestep, almost laughing in his face over how easy it is. Though I’m sure it has everything to do with the whiskey making its way through his bloodstream. Any other day, he’d be a good match. Hell, he might even make me sweat for a minute, but not today. He’s sloppy. Wasted. It’s pathetic.

  Leaning my ass against Big Jim’s tattooing chair, I evade Crew again. It’s a child’s game of cat and mouse at this point, and it only pisses him off as he catches himself against the table.

  My covered hand hovers over the tattoo gun left on the small tray table beside me, and catching the movement, Crew narrows his gaze, finally realizing he has a reason to be suspicious. “I . . . I know you,” he says, visibly swallowing, and though he’s spoken the words and made the statement, I see he’s still trying to figure out where the fuck he knows me from. But considering the shop front has a floor-to-ceiling window for anyone to look into, I don’t have time to wait for him to figure it out. I need to make this fast.

  “I was willing to let you live, Crew,” I say, my hand still hovering over the tattoo gun. “But you made one big mistake.”

  “The fuck are you talking about?” he grunts, clutching the table to stay upright.

  I laugh, getting back to my feet and taking the tattoo gun with me. I walk right up to him, nearly a head taller, and honestly, it surprises me. He seemed so much bigger from a distance. “Let me let you in on a little secret,” I whisper, watching his brows furrow and his lips twist. “You put your hands on my girl, and because of that, I’m going to kill you, but that’s not the exciting part—” I pause, smirking as his gaze whips toward me, and honestly, I have no idea if it’s because I mentioned he touched my girl or because I told him I’m going to kill him. “Once I’m done with you, I’m going to end her life too. Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and when I do, she’s gonna beg for it.”

  Crew clenches his jaw. “If you fucking touch her—”

  “You mean like you did?” I question, purring in his ear, focusing on the rapid beating of his pulse at the base of his throat. “Does it make you feel big bruising her face? Hearing her cry out in agony? What about the way she looked at you? The betrayal in her eyes? The fear? Did it get your cock hard like it does for me?”

  The anger explodes, venomous rage flashing in his dark stare, and he lunges for me again, only this time, I let him. Crew grabs me by the front of my hoodie, throwing me back down on Big Jim’s chair as he comes down over me, hovering with his face barely inches from mine. “If you lay a fucking hand on her, I’m gonna kill you.”

  My excitement rages like a wild storm brewing beneath the surface, and as I meet Crew’s gaze, all I can do is smile. “Ooooh, I think it’s a little too late for that,” I laugh, taking in the way his whole body seems to shake. “Do you have any idea how fucking pretty she is when she comes? How she clenches her eyes and screams out? How sweet she tastes? Fuck. I think I’ll head back to her place tonight.”

  Rage burns through his gaze, and I see the very second he makes the decision to end my life, but it’s too little too late for him. I hold the tattoo gun in a tight fist, so fucking sure and precise with my movement as my hand snaps out and creates the perfect arc. The tip of the gun plunges deep into the base of Crew’s throat, and my fucking cock springs to life.

  Good fucking God. I almost come in my pants, my whole body shuddering with intense satisfaction. I try to hold onto it, but I don’t think I can, and when I yank the tattoo gun back out and blood spurts from Crew’s carotid artery, splattering across my chest and mixing with the spilled ink on the floor, I can’t take it a second longer.

  I explode, coming in my pants like a fucking teenager. My hips jolt with the intense release, and as Crew holds my gaze, his blood quickly soaking me, all I can do is stare back at him.

  Holy fuck. I didn’t even get to stroke myself before coming. Not even a squeeze. Sometimes I like to play around first, you know, really draw it out, edge myself just a little before finally allowing myself to come, but fuck. Today, my cock had a brain of his own.

  One second, I could have sworn I was still getting hard, and the next . . . shit.

  I’m a grown-ass man, and I just jizzed in my fucking pants.

  A pained grunt comes from Crew above me, and I force myself to focus, not wanting to miss a second of this. Life quickly fades from his eyes, and as he collapses to the ground like a heavy sack of shit, I’m left paralyzed in Big Jim’s chair, the intensity of the kill still shooting through my veins.

  All I can do is breathe, replaying the moment over and over in my head, and when I finally regain the ability to move and think clearly, I feel more energized than ever before. I spring up from Big Jim’s chair, gazing down at Crew’s lifeless body, absolutely stunned.

  I’ve always been a lady killer. Plain and simple. That’s what’s gotten me off, but the rush of killing Crew Ledger in the name of protecting Kyah . . . fuck. I’ve never felt so liberated or alive. And what’s more, that need to end Kyah’s life has diminished just a little bit more.

  I can’t explain it. This girl is fucking with my head. But for the first time, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to finish this. Despite knowing how good it’s going to feel, I don’t know if I can handle the idea of never seeing her again, never being able to breathe her in or taste her sweetness.

  Fuck. What is Kyah doing to me?