Page 38 of Lady Killer

“Locke.” His voice was low with warning.

“Hollow Oak is my domain, cousin. She will do as I see fit in my class. I don’t care what sort of games Everest thinks he’s entitled to play,” I said and hung up for real this time.

Fucking prick.

There was a time when no man would have dared to spill blood on Blackwell land. Now there was a serial killer running amuck, and that little ingrate was walking around with blood on her hands, unpunished.

Luz was lucky that my cousin had served his judgment already. Were it up to me, oh, how I would have made her pay . ..

Turning down the road that led to our family’s private airstrip, I weighed my options regarding the Torres girl for the thousandth time. Unfortunately, my calculations arrived at the same conclusion nearly every single time. Pushing Lucian too hard or indirectly breaking his promise by squeezing the life out of her with my own two hands would cost more than it was worth.

I parked the car near the entrance to the airfield and tossed the keys to the nearest staff member without instruction. They knew what to do. And if they didn’t, they were fired. Or worse.

I bounded up the stairs to the private plane, ignoring the earnest-looking staff waiting to greet me at the door, and made my way to one of the large leather seats before waving the flight attendant over.

“What can I get for you, Mr. Blackwell?” the buxom redhead asked suggestively. I considered taking my tension out on her.

The family owned a small fleet of jets, ranging in size, which were available for our personal use in addition to being rented out to our various subsidiaries. All the staff were thoroughly screened, highly trained, and traditionally very eager to . . . serve. An attribute I usually found quite arousing in a woman.

But ever since I’d become locked in a battle of wills with one particularly defiant brat, I’d found easy submission to be less of a turn-on than I remembered.

“Glenlivet, eighteen-year-old, neat. Make it a double,” I said brusquely, looking away from her to stare out the window.

There was always next time.

Punching in the code to the gate of my townhouse in Georgetown, I considered my options for the Statlers.

As the inquisitor of the family, my primary role tended to be more focused on the information-retrieval side of the business. Occasionally though, my skills were required to help acquire a more . . .challengingasset for the Blackwell empire. Most of the time, it was simply a matter of buying out other professional killers to bring them under our dominion. Others though, not surprisingly, took another kind of convincing.

Everest was more of a final solution. But if I came for someone first, they would be begging for his particular brand of mercy by the time I was done.

Killian and Jericho Statler had become quite the thorns in my side since their operation had grown large enoughto warrant my family’s attention. Usually all it took was a little blood, sweat, and tears, not my own of course, and new players were subsumed or eliminated.

Not these two.

We were rapidly approaching the line between acquisition and annihilation.

When I’d landed, I received a message from one of our men that they had one of the Statler’s higher-ups waiting for me at the office. With that knowledge, I decided to take my time.

One of the first rules of interrogation was that time was on your side, not your subject’s. If they believed you needed the information more than they needed to escape you, you’d lost the upper hand already. It was easy enough to get it back with the right tools, but I refused to give up even a mote of power to someone who would soon be dead.

I unpacked my valise, placed an order for dinner from my favorite steakhouse, and sent the driver to fetch it, before taking a nice long shower to wash the grime of traveling off me.

You’ll stay away from the girl.

Fuck Lucian. He could posture and bark orders at me like a dog, but I was his second, not his bitch.

Everest and Alister couldn’t protect her from me forever.

Memories of her in my office collided with the tantalizing possibilities of the future, and blood rushed to the head of my cock.

I could see it, her, dressed up in another one of her ridiculous outfits. Eyes blazing with a defiance that should look preposterous on someone wearing knee socks but instead just made me want to force her submission even more.

She would resist, at first.

“I’d never beg an arrogant prick like you . . .”

Not the type to be cowed or bought, she would require a different tactic, something she couldn’t resist . . . a challenge.

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