Page 4 of 23 Hours

Head shaking at her games, I snort.

Me: If you can’t wait, then you can call one of your club whores to set you loose. If you do, you know the consequences.

Niki: The you won’t touch me for a month rule?

Bingo.

Me: That’s the one. I don’t play games. If I didn’t want you spread out for me, ready and willing, then I wouldn’t have tied you up in the first place. The club always comes first. I’m not gonna explain myself. You stay, your choice. You leave, your choice.

Niki: Will it be much longer?

Ugh. More with the questions.

Someone’s cruisin’ for a reddened ass tonight. Cherry. Fucking. Red.

Keeping my patience in check, I give it to her straight.

Me: You know I won’t answer that. You’re either willing to wait as long as it takes for me to handle club biz to get my dick, or you’re not. Time isn’t a factor.

Then I click off the message, ’cause I refuse to answer another. I’m not on her leash. She doesn’t control this.

To see what the fat fuck’s doin’, I glance up from my screen. He’s the same as before. However, he has balled his fists above his head. They weren’t that tight before. Think he’s sweating more, too. The rug of curly chest and stomach hair covering his overhung belly is wet as fuck. Droplets are making a small mess on the concrete floor.

I waggle a brow to see if he’s gonna engage or not. It’s a battle of the wills. Who’s gonna break first?

Ignoring me for a beat, Remy’s bitch glances over to his buddy, who’s not lookin’ so hot. His skin’s gone from clammy and pale to a sickly gray. Bet ya a dollar, he’ll be dead before I leave the basement. Whoever’s left standing will have the honor of enduring the last of Big Dick’s wrath. I should feel sorry for him, but I don’t. Empathy’s wasted on those who prey on the defenseless. Screw ‘em.

I return to the task at hand.

Spotting who else texted, my face breaks into the biggest grin. It’s our girl. Warmth lights up my heart just thinking of her and my grandbaby. I’ve never loved anything so much in my whole life. Don’t think I ever could. If I wasn’t here, handling club biz, I could be with them right now. After what went down yesterday, that’s where I’d rather be, camped out on the floor outside her bedroom, for her protection and my peace of mind.

Bink: Just put Harley down. Hope everything’s okay there. Haven’t heard from Big.

Not wanting to wake her, I check the time stamp on the message before replying. It was sent less than an hour ago, which means she’s likely awake.

Me: Handling stuff. Big’s gonna be fine. He’s sleeping here tonight. Don’t worry.

Bink: Okay. How’s the clubhouse coming along?

Me: We’ve got it covered. Now go watch a movie with Tati and get some rest.

Tati is Bink’s latest project. A teen who was caught up in Remy’s sex ring. Her big, bleeding heart couldn’t let the girl leave. Now we’ve got ourselves a second survivor of the sex trade living on the compound. A single mother named Janie and her lil one, Dom, live with me. Another long story I don’t wanna delve into right now. Life’s complicated. How’s that for an explanation?

“You talkin’ to your bitch?” the fat man snarls.

Stowing my cell, I widen my stance and crack my knuckles, slow and deliberate, as I stare the fucker down, my lips sealed.

“I asked you a question, dickhead!”

On the inside, I’m jonesing to let ’er rip. On the outside, I appear bored. To push his buttons a lil more, I yawn, then snicker, when Fatty yanks on his restraints, testing their strength. When they give a little, he steps closer in challenge. I’m not gonna play into whatever pissing contest he thinks he just threw down. We’ve got the upper hand, and I have no desire to deal with false bravado bullshit. He’s old enough to know better.

I fiddle with the heavy SS ring on my index finger and wait for him to make the next move.

I don’t gotta wait long.

A sticky spray of spit varnishes my face. If this were Big, he’d lose it. Me, I pretend it didn’t happen. Nice try, asshole. It takes a fuckuva lot more to get me riled up.

“Let me loose! I want a fair fight!”

---