Page 36 of Taking Denver

“Yes, they are!” He gestures at me. “They’re pure muscle, and people wriggle them. Cutting out a tongue takes skill.”

“I removed his eyeball in a clean cut. Are you saying that isn’t impressive?” I ask, and he rolls his eyes. “What you do is messy. What I do takes skill.”

Cal shrugs. “Torturing him does feel like a waste of time, though. Wyatt’s mom isn’t exactly someone we want to scare off by proving what we’ll do. She’s just lashing out.”

That’s true. Isabelle Ledger is a grieving mother who wants to hurt Denver. She’s not a threat, not really, but word of the attempt on Denver’s life will spread, and I want to make it clear to anyone who hears of it just what happens to anyone who tries to hurt her.

“It sends a message,” I say.

The jet is ready when we arrive, and I take my bag from the trunk.

“I want you to stay.”

Cal’s brows furrow. “Okay. Why?”

“Reiterate our point to Richmond.” The bodyguard I’d hired to watch Denver has likely learned his lesson, but his mistake has burrowed too deep. And if I can’t take my frustration out on Ethan, I’ll do it on Richmond. “Remove more fingers if you have to.”

Cal shrugs. “And can I?—”

“Yes, you can book a fucking suite,” I interject. “Be home in two days. And don’t let Denver see you.”

The air hostess beams prettily as I climb the steps to the private jet. It can hold at least fifteen passengers on the two cream couches or leather seats, though it’s mostly only used byme. I opt to sit at a table seat and check my phones. Countless messages from home. Shipments, meetings, threats, the media, the police.

Nothing from Denver.

She used to text me. Pointless, silly things. Jokes. Demands. Selfies of her using my credit card that she’d taken without asking. I rarely replied, even when she provoked me, because the distance of a text had me longing to say things I shouldn’t. Like if she remembered the taste of me as well as I remembered the taste of her.

I check my phone again.

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

I tear my gaze from my darkened phone screen to the air hostess. I hadn’t even realized we were in the air.

“No.” I return my attention to my phone. Cal had texted saying he had eyes on Denver and had decided to remove Richmond’s thumb.

“Are you sure?”

I frown, my gaze flicking back to the brunette. She’s pretty. About Denver’s age. Her uniform hugs her curves, and her heels accentuate her long, shapely legs.

I lean back in the chair. “What are you offering?”

A blush steals across her cheeks. “Whatever you want.”

Unless she can deliver a five-foot-six redhead who has occupied my every fucking thought for six years, then this woman is useless.

Useless and unfamiliar.

I lift the armrest and nod at my knee. “Sit.”

The brunette wets her lips and glances at the cockpit before following my instructions. She sits sideways on my lap, one arm draped over my shoulders. I open my knees, and she squeaks as she drops into the seat between my thighs.

I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your name?”

“Rose.”

“That’s a pretty name.” I unfasten the top button of her uniform, and she watches with wide eyes as I reveal her red lace bra. “How long have you worked for me?”

“Donald hired me just yesterday.”

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