Page 98 of Ruthless Redemption

He’s mummified, ankles to torso, his suit barely visible beneath his bindings, with a lone strip over his mouth. I’d almost feel sorry for him if it weren’t for the glare aimed my way, his eyes tiny slits of rebellion.

He’s livid. Bloodthirsty.

He yells beneath the tape gag. It’s aggressive. Clearly insulting or threatening.

“I don’t like your tone.” I scan the room for something sharp. A knife. A pen.

He scoots the chair forward an inch, reclaiming my attention, and jerks his chin at the bedside table.

“There’s something in there?” I stalk for the drawers, pulling the top one open to claim the pocket knife inside. I flick the blade open, walk to him, then remove the tape over his mouth with a quick rip.

“Motherfucker.” His lips are red. His eyes furious. “Did you stop to contemplate, even for the slightest second, that you could’ve removed the tape from my mouth the moment you walked through the fucking door?”

I crouch at his side and start cutting the bindings at his wrist. “Did you stop to contemplate how much your silence is preferable to your attitude?”

“Funny,” he snaps. “Where the fuck is Langston?”

“Upstairs.” I saw through the heavy tape from his hand to his elbow, not caring if I’m destroying his suit.

“And those fucking pussies?”

He yanks his arm free and begins clawing at the tape on his chest as I work on his other wrist.

“They’re up there with him.”

We work in silence, the shredding of stitching and tearing of bindings filling the room before he finally asks, “Did they hurt you?”

I pause, not sure why he’d care. “No.”

He pulls his second arm free. “Did they touch you?”

Apprehension trickles through my veins. His concern is unsettling.

“Layla?” he growls. “Did they touch you?”

“No. Why?” I kneel before him, turning my attention to the tape at his ankles. “Have you grown a heart all of a sudden?”

He yanks harder at his bindings, wobbling the chair. “What I’ve grown is fucking attached to a stellar reputation that I have no intention of losing.”

Of course. Silly me.

I slice harder at the tape, dragging the blade between his legs, moving past his knees, then toward his upper thighs.

“I appreciate the help.” He snatches the blade from my grip. “But the last thing I need is you with something sharp near my dick.”

“Are you sure?” I lean back on my haunches. “I could teach you some manners.”

“If that’s what you call the shit you’ve been doing with Langston, then it’s a hard pass from me. All I need right now is revenge.”

I stand as he stabs the tape to shreds. “How did they get you down?”

“From my lack of memory and one hell of a fucking headache, I’m assuming those sons of bitches sucker punched me when I was doing a perimeter check.” He throws the last of his bindings to the floor and shoves to his feet, his suit in tatters. “You might want to stay down here a while.”

That’s not going to happen.

I follow as he stalks for the hall. He pounces up the stairs three at a time, arms swinging, posture rigid.

He storms into the open living area and straight toward Matthew’s brothers at the island counter, who are tending to their wounds.

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