Page 75 of SINS & Riley
Before I can process anything, the doctor grabs my hand. “Now, let’s go.”
I snap it back. “I said no.”
That’s when all hell breaks loose. He lunges, fingers clamping around my arm.
“Get the fuck off me!” The words rip out of me, raw and jagged, shredding the graveyard hush.
But he doesn’t let go.
I grab a fistful of dirt and fling it in his face, wrenching free.
For half a second, I’m on my feet and ready to run.
His grip slams back down on my shoulder, savage, bone-snapping hard.
White-hot pain tears through me. The sound comes first—a choked, broken cry—before it shreds into a scream.
And then?—
“I suggest you get your hands off the woman,” a lethal voice cuts through, “unless you’d like me to make art out of your brain on this wall.”
The click of a gun cocks.
I freeze.
Because I know that voice.
23
ZVER
I crack my neck and step into the sunlight. I told Andre I’d deliver Riley to his doorstep in four weeks, after I’d had my fill.
Like the moron he is, he played hardball. He countered with three weeks and he’d throw in the rug.
We settled on two.
Offering up Riley wasn’t on my agenda, but I had no choice. He already knows she’s alive, and has a hard-on for her the size of an RPG.
The thought of him even touching her shreds every ounce of control.
Because when it comes to Pom, I don’t think. I act.
Twice, impulse nearly had me drop the dead man’s switch.
And why the hell not?
Would losing the psychopath holding her hostage mean a damn thing to her?
Of course not. Why would it?
And torture I can take.
Mindfucks? Please, I’ve built empires on worse.
But this—him circling Riley. It’s acid in my veins, burning me alive from the inside out.
I’d trade my existence for his worthless one without hesitation.
