Page 40 of Tangled in Red

“Don’t talk about my mother.” Brett set the glass down on a dusty end table with a sharp clink. That was a subject he never liked talking about. Even before he’d come out to her, she hadn’t exactly been the nurturing type. Brett’s father had been—behind his wife’s back. But the moment Brett accidently let it slip that he was gay, his mom couldn’t throw him out of the house fast enough.

And his father had stood by while it happened. All the apologetic eye contact in the world couldn’t make up for what his dad had allowed to happen under his own roof.

It was his dad who’d whispered to Brett while he was packing to contact Frank. To this day, Brett wondered if his father knew what an asshole his brother was.

Minutes stretched between them, filled only by the distant sound of another man moving around somewhere in the back of the house. Rico sat in an armchair opposite him, legs crossed casually.

If Brett hadn’t witnessed the man’s insanity, or had been kidnapped, he would’ve thought Rico a handsome and charming guy. But he was a monster in human skin.

“That bruise on your wrist.” He nodded toward Brett’s hand “What happened?”

“Walked into a door.” Brett tucked his arm against his body, wincing as pain flared in his shoulder.

“Doors don’t leave finger-shaped bruises.” Rico leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Someone hurt you.”

“Why do you care?” Goddamn Jack for leaving the bruise. The last thing Brett wanted was a lunatic examining him. What he needed was Diablo. Would his mate find him? But if he did, Diablo would be walking into a trap. Brett had never been so conflicted or miserable. He just wanted his teddy bear’s arms wrapped around him, making him feel safe.

Not a smooth-talking lunatic staring at him.

“I could kill them for you.” His soulless eyes never left Brett’s face, his voice a soft pitch. “A gift, from me to you.”

Oh, god. He was going to be sick. And he’d thought Frank was insane. Brett hadn’t known true insanity until now.

“Or if you prefer a more personal touch…” He spread his hands. “I’d be happy to let you do it yourself. I could bring them here, tie them up, give you any tool you desire.” His eyes gleamed with something dark and hungry. “Watching someone discover their capacity for violence is... breathtaking.”

“No thanks.” Brett’s voice was surprisingly steady, but his insides filled with ice. “I don’t accept murder as gifts. More of a gift card person, really.”

“It’s not murder when it’s justified.” Rico tilted his head, studying Brett like a scientist might examine a lab specimen. “Whoever hurt you deserves punishment. I’m simply offering to deliver it or give you the chance to do it yourself.”

The guy was serious. Brett saw it in his eyes. What had Rico done to Diablo when he’d had him? Did he even want to know?

Rico chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. “You’ve got spirit. I like that.”

Footsteps sounded from another room. The driver from earlier appeared, now joined by a third man with a pockmarked face.

“Everything set?” Rico asked without looking away from Brett.

“Yes, sir,” the driver answered. “Perimeter’s secure.”

“Good.” Rico stood, smoothing invisible wrinkles from his shirt. “Our guest needs food. See to it.”

Brett would rather starve.

* * * *

Alone in the kitchen, Rico turned Brett’s phone over in his palm, examining the device. Sleek case with a few scratches on the edges. Signs of a careless owner or perhaps just someone who used it constantly. Sliding his thumb across the screen, he unlocked it with the passcode he’d forced from the human. So predictable. Four digits, probably a birthday.

Behind him, floorboards creaked as one of his men passed by the kitchen doorway.

Time to make the call.

Rico scrolled to Diablo’s contact and pressed Call, putting the phone on speaker. Settling into a rickety kitchen chair, he placed the device on the table before him, waiting as the line rang once, twice...

“Brett?” Diablo’s voice filled the small kitchen, tense with worry.

“I’m afraid Brett can’t come to the phone right now,” Rico replied. “He’s a bit... tied up at the moment.”

A beat of silence followed. Then, “Rico.”

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