Garrett growls, “Fucking great, can we leave now?”

“Scared she’s going to take a shot at your junk again?” I taunt, and he narrows his gaze at me.

“I’ll carry her,” Diesel offers. I step in his path as Garrett turns her away from him.

“That’s okay, man, he’s got it,” I say to the man who frowns and peeks around me to try and see her. Fuck, I look over at Ryder and he nods, he’s noticed it too. The last person Diesel became obsessed with ended up being burned to death. We want her to suffer, but not that much…not yet.

That means we need to stay between him and her, at least for now.

“Come on, we’ll head back.” I clap him on the shoulder, dragging him away as Ryder steps between him and Garrett to further block his view.

Diesel moans but perks up when I tell him he can drive.

“We’ll meet you back here, get the guest room ready so she can stay there for now,” Ryder calls, and I nod.

Guest room? Like she’ll be staying in there for the long haul. It seems Roxy is going to live with us. And from just the moment I spent with her, I’m betting she’s going to try her best to kill us for that.

I can’t wait.

It’s been awhile since we last did something fun, this one just happens to come in a delectable package which I plan to open. Yes, I’ll have Roxy before we kill her. I’ll make her beg for it, crave it until she caves…then I’ll finally fuck her.

She’s now lost the biggest bet of all—her freedom and her life.

Chapter Eight

ROXY

My head is killing me, almost like I’ve had one too many drinks. My face is aching, and my whole body is stiff from being in one position too long. Groaning, I keep my eyes shut to try and let the pain fade away as I rack my brain for what happened. But it’s all a blur, and the more I try, the more the hammers dig into my brain.

Feeling around with my hand for my gun, I freeze. This isn’t my usual crappy bedding…this is fucking silk. Who the hell has silk bedding?

No one I know, that’s for sure.

That’s when it all comes rushing back. The goons. The Vipers. The punch…

Snapping my eyes open, I stare up at the white ceiling, and right above me is a goddamn crystal chandelier. My heart slams in my chest as I shuffle up to the headboard, leaning against it as I prod my aching face, that bastard. I don’t think anything is broken though. Breathing heavily, I panic as I look around at my surroundings.

They stole me.

Took me from my bar and left me in what looks like a fucking hotel room.

It’s so…clean. Way too clean. All white walls and a deep grey carpeted floor. On the wall opposite the huge, king-sized bed I’m in is a flat screen TV bigger than my bathroom. To the right, the wall gives way to floor-to-ceiling windows which, when I slide from the bed and stumble over to them, show me the city.

It’s spread out beneath me like a goddamn poster. We’re so high up and right smack bam in the middle of it. Turning away, I spot two doors on either side of the TV. I peek my head in one to see a built-in wardrobe. And by that, I mean a room with shelves upon shelves, mirrors with lights between them, and a sofa in the middle. Shutting the door with a disgusted sneer of my lips, I try the other one.

It’s a bathroom. The left wall is taken up by an all glass shower cubicle with four shower heads aimed down, and a grey tiled seat in the back corner. To the back is a huge tub, big enough to hold at least six people. To the right are two sinks with a framed mirror above it. The toilet is tucked away next to me. It looks like someone spared no expense, the fucking rich bastards.

Heading back into the room, I scan the space looking for anything I can use as a weapon. Next to the bed are two antique, grey bedside tables. With lamps on both. Perfect. I race across the room on bare feet, since some bastard took my boots. Ripping the lamp from the wall, I hold it like a bat as I head to the white door to the left which clearly leads out of the room.

Trying the handle, I find it locked, of fucking course. I drop the lamp to my side and glare around at the room. These fuckers, they think they can own me? That I’m someone they can buy?

They’re going to learn that money can’t buy obedience. I’m no man’s object. They are going to regret the day they took me.

Vipers? Bitch, please, I bite too.

I wait for over half an hour to see if they will come and unlock the door, but they don’t and I get bored. Pissed and bored isn’t a good combination for me. I have the insane urge to mess the place up, it’s too perfect, too clean. So I do. Grinning, I head to the bathroom and decide to take my anger out on their precious bedroom.

Smashing the lamp into the mirror, I watch it shatter into pieces. I grin, picking up a piece, accidentally cutting myself. Hissing, I stare at the blood coating the glass and dripping to the pristine floor. Eh, fuck it.

Sauntering back into the bedroom, I let my blood drip behind me as I walk to the bed and start slashing. I get it all out. My fury at them, my rage at my father.

I should have known better by now, but every goddamn time I think I’m free of him, he does something. But this? Selling me? Even I didn’t think he would be so low.

With a scream, I stab and slash until my arm aches and I’m panting. Feathers from the pillows cover me and the floor, the mattress has gaping holes in it, and the bedding is covered in blood and ripped to shreds.

It looks like I feel and makes me smile.

I’m laughing when the door opens. Hiding the glass in the back pocket of my shorts, I step away, my eyes narrowed. Ryder strolls inside. He looks around at the mess, and his arched eyebrow and the slight dipping of his perfect lips are the only signs of his displeasure.

I’m a panting, sweaty mess, and he’s standing there in a suit like a goddamn model. I hate him, and not just because he kidnapped me and locked me in his creepy clean apartment.

“Well, I see you’re making yourself comfortable,” he comments, his voice smooth and low. Like a good shot of Jack. Does anything ruffle this man? I want to run over there and wipe my blood all over his perfect suit just to see what he would do.

“Let me go,” I demand, but he ignores me. Bending down, he picks up a pillowcase and holds it in the air with one finger, showing off the material that’s cut to ribbons.

“Your father sold you, you are ours now.” His tone is so matter-of-fact that I want to explode again.

“I’m a human! You can’t just sell another person!” I scream.

“It seems we can.” He shrugs, dropping the pillowcase. “Your anger at the situation or disbelief will not make it any less real, I assure you. Your father did sell you to us, and you’re now ours. I suggest you find a way to deal with that.”

Deal with that?

Oh, this motherfucker.

Gripping the glass in my back pocket, I storm closer, getting in this face. “Let me go or I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” He smirks, those ice-filled eyes finally thawing a bit to show a challenge there.

A dare.

The glass digs into my skin, cutting it anew as I whip out my hand and slice it towards his unprotected face. He blinks, his hand grabbing mine before the glass is an inch away from his cheek. He tightens his grip, making me gasp as it grinds my bones together, pain sparking through me. “You are ours, Roxxane. If we want to lock you up, we will. If we want to punish you for being a brat, we will. If we want to fuck you…” He leans closer, pressing into the glass, and a bead of blood bubbles on his cheek as he lowers his voice. “We will. If we want to kill you…we will, and there is nothing you can do about it. Deal with it, love, or you might find yourself in a worse place than this.”