Page 45 of The Ruthless Guardian

Phoebe plants her hands against my chest and pushes me away just enough to show me the smile on her face. I love that look- happiness. “On what you mean by ‘or something’. Tell me what you want, Josiah. Do you want to marry me, or do you want ‘or something’?”

“I don’t care what it’s called. I want to wake up to you in my bed every morning. I want you to push my buttons and aggravate me every day. I want to be able to kiss you all day long, even when your blue hair fades to gray, and if you die before me, I hope they make a coffin big enough for both of us because I’m coming with you.”

Her eyes widen, but so does her grin. “That’s intense. You’ve never said anything like that before.”

“But you aren’t scared. So tell me whatyouwant to do, and I’ll do it for you. If you want me to call you my ol’ lady and get your name tattooed on my skin, I don’t care. I’ll do whatever makes you happy.”

Picking up a bar of soap, she lathers it in her hands and spreads the suds over my chest. “I don’t think you need to get a tattoo for me, and I also don’t think you would survive a wedding ceremony. There tends to be a lot ofpeopleat those.” Phoebe meets me gaze, still smirking, and I realize I’m smiling too. I must have been for a while because my cheeks are hurting. “But I’ll make you a deal, okay?”

I despise that she’s right. I definitely wouldn’t do well in a crowd where Phoebe and I would be at the center of everyone’s attention. I can’t really offer her a wedding. “I’m listening.”

“You know that thing you always do when I’m scared with my hand? The circles?”

Taking one of her hands from my chest, I draw a circle on the back of it. I’ve spent so much time doing it that her body immediately releases the lingering tension in her shoulders and her breaths move down to her belly.

“Yeah, like that. Whenever you need me, you just do that, and I’ll know. You can call me your wife or your ol’ lady or even kitten if it makes you happy, but just know that I’ll always be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Thirty-five

Skids

Ryan won’t shut the fuck up. Since he came to and opened his eyes to me and Reaper, he’s been screaming nonstop. It’s making my ears ring. “Jesus Christ!” I swing my fist and connect with the side of his face. “Shut. the fuck. up.”

“Aye, you’re hurting my ears.” Reaper turns back to me and grins. “D’ya hear the pussy? Cryin’ like a wee bairn. He’s got tears running down his face. What’s got ye so scared?”

“Please, please. I don’t know what you think I did, but I didn’t do it. I swear. I- I’ve been good since I got out.”

“You haven’t actually,” I tell him. He’s lying about being good. “I don’t give a fuck what youthink. You put my ol’ lady at risk.”

“Ol’ Lady, huh? She agreed to that?” Reaper asks, teasing me. He’s got a sense of humor now that we’ve been plotting this kill for a number of days. Reaper has interesting ideas and a swath of experience in this arena that I do not have. His opinions are interesting at the very least.

“Aye,” I say, winking as I imitate his Scottish accent. “She did.”

“The poor lass. She must’ve hit her head.”

“Ha-ha, asshole. You’d know all about that wouldn’t you, you fucking psychopath.”

“Eh, I never hit my head. I was born like this.”

I don’t doubt that. He may very well have been born a little different from the rest of us. I don’t know if my issues started at birth or if they didn’t manifest until I got a little older. I’ll never be able to pinpoint whether the illnesses in my mind came from the abuse in my childhood or just chemicals in my brain.

“Wh-who’s your lady? What do you think I did?” Ryan whimpers, and I match Reaper’s feral smile as I turn to look at the poor bastard.

“You know a girl named Phoebe? Drop-dead gorgeous with blue hair? Ringing any bells?”

Ryan’s eyes go wider and he starts to breathe heavier, but he’s not sure what’s about to happen so he’s not fighting the ropes around his arms yet. “I know her. She’s your girl? She is- she’s really pretty.”

“Iknowshe is,” I groan, biting into my fist. “She’s so fucking perfect. The problem is, bud, that you could’ve gotten her killed. My friend here already took care of your old cellmate for us. He’s pretty brutal. We call him The Reaper, but you… you get me. Until I get bored of course, and then you’ll get to deal with him. The first thing he did to Tony was nail his tongue to the bottom of his mouth. Are you going to cause me problems with that mouth?”

Ryan tries to swallow his tongue, staring at me in horror and shaking his head.

Reaper’s laughter scares the shit out of me and I swing my head to look at him. “Pussy,” he says, nodding towards Ryan. “Another one. This city is full of ‘em.”

“You’re right. He is a pussy. You think he’s going to cry?”

“Aye. He will.” Reaper’s hand strays to his knife and I know we’ve wasted enough time talking. It’s time to get started. Pres said Reaper gets bored like a kid with ADHD in a math classroom during these things if he’s not getting to do any of the actualtorture. He’s got some compulsive need to hurt people, and I’ve got to get some of my anger out before he gets started.

My fist lands against Ryan’s cheek and he shouts from the shock of being hit before spitting blood down his chest and turning his gaze to Reaper. “He’s a scary fucker, isn’t he? You better keep me entertained.” I punch him in his gut and hope it gives him at least a tenth of the sick feeling I get every time Phoebe cries.

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