Deathly afraid. Of me. Of us. Of what we will do to her.

She isn’t pulling the strings, she’s a puppet…for who? The Triad? Is it possible we have more than one enemy coming at us? No, they have to be working together. They were looking for a weakness, a way to get to us, and they thought they had it with her.

But she was never really one of us. She never stayed in our home, never saw our business. She saw what we wanted her to, nothing more. I squeeze tighter, not even using my full strength to hold her in place. I let her see it in my eyes, how easily I could kill her, end her, and no one would care.

No one could stop me.

But it would be too quick.

The noise of the shop around us comes back. People are screaming, and I hear them on the phone when a tap comes at my shoulder. Turning with a snarl, I throw her to the floor and meet my guard’s eyes. “Unless you want to spend hours talking to the police, we need to leave. If you want her taken or dead, say the word, we’ll organise it and call Ryder to clean up.”

He doesn’t question who she is, doesn’t even blink as he says it. I look back at her, but she’s scrambling to her feet and straightening her hoodie. She blows me a kiss. “Be seeing you soon, Garrett, and say hello to your girlfriend for me.” Then she’s gone, rushing into the scrambling crowd and blending.

“No, follow her though,” I snap.

He rushes off, and I stomp through the shop, the patrons falling as they try to get out of my way. Their faces are pale and scared as I rip open the coffee shop door and head outside.

I grab my phone to dial Ryder and tell him I know who the mole is, but when I dip my hand into my pocket, it’s gone. I have a flash of her sidling close to me, her hand stroking down my chest…I was so panicked, so angry, I didn’t even think anything of it when I shoved her away.

Fuck.

She has my phone.

Chapter Forty-Two

ROXY

I’m fucking bored. The only reason I don’t leave is because they asked so sweetly. They were not demanding or authoritative, they genuinely needed me to stay. So I do.

I never said I would behave, just that I would stay. They should have known better. I do some work. Ryder left me with the contracts and information for the bars he wants to buy or build, so I flip through them, noting which will be good and discarding those that won’t be. He also included Roxers’ earnings and his investments with the money. It’s doing good, more than fucking good. Ryder has an eye for money and investments—the profit has tripled.

I have money.

More than I know what to do with or need.

He knew it would keep me busy for a while, the sneaky bastard, and it does, I’m excited to do something I love. Something good. I make a plan to only hire ex-cons and runaways. People who need it. They will get a good wage, and we can build some accommodations, give them a second chance at life. Like Rich gave me. That’s what I’m going to call it, the Rich Fund.

For him…the man who saved my life, the opportunity to create the fund given to me by the men who love me.

Who knew this is where I would end up? Not me when I slept under a bridge, freezing and starving.

After I make a plan on that, I find an old Polaroid camera tucked away in Kenzo’s room, and I take dirty pictures for them and hide them under their pillows, giggling the whole time. Next, I decide to try and break into their armoury, because honestly, I want my bat back. My eyes go back to the gunroom. It has a hand scanner, I wonder if I could open it. They added my prints to the building, surely that would include that? Unless it’s on a different system.

Deciding to try it, I head upstairs and press my hand to the screen, but it flashes red. Motherfucker. Now that I’m thinking about it, I want to know what’s inside. I need to. Mischievous urges fill me, the same ones that led to me ripping Ryder’s clothes and trashing his car, to leaving dirty pictures under their pillows, to buying that present which is on the way…

Fuck it.

I wonder… Sneaking downstairs, I grab a knife and head back to the door, trying to jimmy the lock, but it doesn’t work. “Hey, buff security dude?” I call, hanging over the balcony. “I need your body.”

He looks up from the window he was guarding and pales, stumbling away, his hands out as if to ward me off. “Please, please no, they will kill me. I—a…you’re very beautiful, but, fuck, don’t tell them I said that,” he begs, his eyes wide.

Laughing, I wave him up. “Not in that way, dude. I got four cocks, you think I need more? I won’t tell them if you throw yourself into this door for me.”

He glances at the door and shakes his head. “Hell no, they will murder me.”

“Nah they won’t, I won’t let them. I’ll tell them I did it. Come on, big dude, help a sister out,” I plead.

He looks to the others before sighing and coming upstairs, where he eyes the door. “You want me to break it down?”

“I could try, be all woman hear me roar, or I could be super smart and let a big, tough guy like you do it for me,” I offer sweetly, and he snorts.

“You’re more manipulative than them, I see why they love you,” he comments offhandedly, before pulling back his foot and kicking open the door. It smashes inwards, the lock dropping to the floor. “I never did that, you didn’t see it.” He huffs before wandering downstairs.

My phone vibrates, and I check to see it’s Ryder. I’ve been texting them all morning. Diesel’s last message was a picture of his face covered in blood with the caption, “You’re sitting on this later,” but this is a video call now. With a grumble, I head into his bedroom and flop on his bed, not wanting him to know what I’m up to yet.

I answer and angle the phone to see my face. He’s in a car, the phone held to his face so I can see just a peek of his suit. His hair is slicked back and his eyes are cold, but when they lock on me, they seem to melt a little. Even through the phone, I can feel his power, his all-consuming interest, and it has me shivering in need. Ryder Viper is a fucking weapon…to my vagina.

“Love, what are you up to?” he asks straightaway, his deep, husky voice having me clenching my thighs together, and then a naughty thought comes to mind.

Smirking at him, I angle the camera down and run my hand over my chest to cup my breasts before trailing down my stomach. He groans as I start to drag my dress up to reveal my thighs. “Love, are you on my bed?”

“Yes.” I laugh. “And I’m bored and horny,” I tell him, as I flash him my thong, parting my thighs as I let him watch me cup myself.

He groans and then snaps something off camera. I hear a squeal then a door. “What was that?” I laugh, tilting the camera back to see those icy eyes demanding and tight.

“I was not going to let them overhear you,” he snarls, as though it’s obvious, his tongue darting out and licking his bottom lip. “Show me again, love, touch yourself.”

“Oh, feeling naughty?” I laugh.

“Now, don’t make me ask again, Roxxane,” he orders.

“Or what?” I grin, trailing my hand up my thigh and showing him. “You are too far to do anything…”