Page 8 of Veiled Vengeance

“But I do, don’t I?”

My eyes subtly slide to Spencer. I don’t want to know what she thinks of my upbringing; I wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection from my partner again. But I can’t help myself.

When our gazes meet, she looks at me with the same look from the other night. Sympathy.

Anthony moves closer towards my dangling body. He brandishes the knife again so he can intimidate the answers out of me.

That’s not going to work.

When he’s close enough, I tighten my abs and grip the hook. A set of feet come into my line of sight. Ignoring the agonizing burn in my shoulder, I kick out with my right leg. My foot connects with Anthony’s torso. A grunt is forced from his lips, and he doubles over.

Pierce lunges forward and aims his armored fist at my bullet wound. The sound that bursts from my mouth is full of agony. I’ve been ignoring the fire burning in my shoulder until now. The box of pain has been forcefully opened, and I’m struggling to close the lid again. More blood streams down from my open wound.

“No! Stop! Please! I’ll do anything! Just stop hurting him!”

No one gives Spencer’s pleas recognition. Anthony and Pierce are too focused on me.

Just how I want them to be.

Anthony stands. His hair is disheveled and there’s a distinct, muddy boot print on his shirt. He lands a few blows of his own straight to my stomach in retaliation. It’s becoming more difficult to keep my torso tight so as to not allow serious damage.

When Anthony finally stops, he straightens and smooths his hair. My shirt is soaked in sweat and blood.

“Come, Pierce. Let’s give Agent Dawson some time to think over his answers.” He slips the brass knuckles into his pocket and saunters out of the warehouse. Pierce’s wandering eyes linger on Spencer, dipping to the cleavage her dress reveals.

He’s going to regret his ogling. Even if Spencer doesn’t want me after we get out here, and after learning about my history, I’ll still protect her from the Anthony’s and Pierce’s of the world. Men like that think they can take just because they want.

“Asher,” Spencer whispers. “Asher, please, stay awake.”

But my eyes droop closed. The box is spilling over with pain now—it’s becoming impossible to keep the lid locked in place.

“I’ll be back for you, my Lily.” Pierce’s promise is spoken low so only Spencer and me are able to hear him. Forcing my eyes to remain open, I watch Spencer’s frame shake as she swallows a gulp of fear. Pierce smiles at her reaction and finally stalks out after Anthony.

With the immediate threat gone, pain finally claims my consciousness.

CHAPTER 3

ZANE

My heart feels like it’s been ripped out of my chest, beat with a bat, then handed back to me, as if I can still make it function. My Angel is gone, along with my best friend.

When the gunshots rang out, my entire world came to a halt. Rio and I rushed to get to Asher and Spencer, but we were too late. They got them in the car and drove away.

Someone at the gallery called 9-1-1, so we had to give statements. Liam came running when he heard what had happened over the radio, and so did Asher’s teammates, Berkowitz and Kowalski. We all went into search-and-rescue mode.

Rio and I haven’t slept all night.

We filled them in on Anthony. We didn’t relay the human trafficking aspect, but they know he’s rich, connected, and psychotic. And with the positive match from the DNA test, everyone knows that Spencer’s attacker and the Bride Butcher are the same person. We still need a sample of Anthony’s DNA to prove that Anthony is the Bride Butcher, but for now, we’re all operating under that assumption.

Now, it’s late—or maybe it’s early morning. I’ve lost all sense of time. Spencer and Asher have been gone for hours, but it feels like years.

Rio and I are sitting in my car at the edge of Central Park. The moon is high, and there’s a small chill in the air. We haven’t changed out of the clothes we wore to the show and probably look as deranged and haggard as we feel.

Rio breaks the silence. “He wasn’t too happy to talk to us last time.”

“And he probably won’t be happy to talk to us this time,” I retort.

“Esperemos que tenga información para nosotros,” he mumbles and exits the car.Here’s hoping he has information for us.

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