SHE STIFFENS, HER screaming stops, but she’s breathing heavily.
“It’s me, Blake,” I say again. Then I reach over and flip on the light. She blinks several times before her pretty blue eyes meet mine.
I run my hand down the side of her bloody and duct-taped face. “I’m going to take this off, okay? But you have to stay quiet.”
She nods, blinking, and tears run down her face.
I rip it off all four layers as quick as I can.
“Oh, my God! Ryat, what … how …?”
I slap my hand over my mouth. “We have to be quiet,” I tell her.
She nods once again, and I remove my hand. She sucks in a deep breath, but does as I say. “That’s my good girl.”
She whimpers, and I pull her from the wall. Digging my hand into her front shorts pocket, I pull out a handcuff key and spin her around, undoing them.
“Ryat …” She sobs softly, her shaking hands coming up to her mouth to try to quiet it. “I don’t …”
“I’ll explain it later, okay?” Before she can explain I kiss her forehead. Her hands come up and dig into the material of my shirt. “Fuck, I’ve missed you, Blake,” I whisper and pull her into me, hugging her tightly.
“I love you,” she sobs, digging her face into my chest.
“I love you too.” I pull away, grabbing her tear-streaked face. “I need you to stay here.”
“What? No!” Her eyes widen as panic takes over her features. “Ryat … no.”
“I need you to stay here. In the dark. I’ll be back, okay?”
“Please.” She chokes out, her knees give out. Before she can fall, I grab her, gritting my teeth at the pain it causes in my side to help her to the floor. I popped several pain pills on the plane ride here, but they’re not really doing any good.
“I promise, Blake. Look at me!” I order, roughly gripping her face. I wait for her eyes to focus on mine. “I promise we’ll be going home soon. But I have to get Matt.”
“But Tyson—”
“He came with me, Blake. He’s here to help us.”
I lay in my hospital bed waiting for Phil to return with my pain pills so we can get the fuck out of here, and I hold my cell to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hey Ty, I ….”
“Fuck, Ryat! It’s good to hear your voice.”
“I need a favor,” I say getting to the point of this call. I don’t have the luxury of time right now.
“Name it,” he comments without hesitation.
I’ve been unfair to him. None of what happened to Blake that night at Blackout was his fault. Plus, he was the one I got the tracker idea from after she ran from me. Let’s just hope I don’t find what he found when I get to her.
She sniffs and nods quickly. I turn off the light and lock the door before shutting it behind me so Matt can’t enter without kicking the damn thing down.
“Here we come. Ready or not.” I hear Matt call out with excitement.
I pull the Glock out from behind my waistband and grip it tightly in both of my hands. It’s going to take everything in me not to shoot him between the fucking eyes, considering what he’s done with Blake. I almost want to say fuck the confessional and just get rid of him right here and now. But that would be the easy way out for him.
“Hey Ty?” Matt’s voice carries down the hall.
“Yeah?” He asks.
“How’d you get in?” Matt questions and my teeth grind. Fuck! I thought we’d have more time. We were planning on Matt being more into the chase than wonder how Tyson got into the home.
“Tunnels.” Comes his clipped answer.
I come to the end of the hall and see Matt still standing in the living room, hands on his hips. “When did you get the chance to be alone with Blakely that you were able to put a tracker in her, without her knowing?” He wonders.
“Really, Matt?” He barks, standing behind the couch, pulling a collar and leash out of his bag. “We going to play a hundred questions or are we going to play with the bitch?”
My teeth grind at Ty mentioning touching my wife, but I understood this was going to be needed. Doesn’t mean I like it though.
“Oh, we’ll play.” Matt assures him. “But you won’t be touching her.”
What the fuck? my eyes widen when I see someone enter the room behind Tyson. Rushing out into the living room, I lift my gun and point it at the man. “Don’t fucking move.”
Matt spins around to face me, shock covering his features. “Ryat.” He growls.
“Get the fuck back.” I order the man who holds a gun to the back of Ty’s head.
“Jesus!” The man hisses but stays where he’s at. “You can’t do one fucking job, Matt.”
Matt’s jaw tightens. “He was dead when I left him, Dad.”
“Dad?” Ty chuckles, his body softening, no longer finding the man behind him a threat. “You were in on this too?”
“Of course, he was.” Matt snorts. “She was going to kill him.”
My brows pull together. “What does that mean?” I bark. “Why would Blake …”
“Her initiation.” Ty interrupts me, spinning around to face Jake Winston. “You were the one supposed to be at Blackout. You’re the reason Matt was even there in the first place.”
He presses the gun into Ty’s chest and shoves him backward into the couch. “That bitch has become more of a problem than pussy should be.” Jake snaps.
Blake had only ever received her first text the night before initiation. I had checked her cell in the hospital and never saw where she got another one with her assignment details the night of the attack. Now I know why. That’s why Matt didn’t kill her, or take her, it was a diversion. He was just trying to save his father.
“Why would the Lords want you dead, Jake?” I demand. “What have you done?”
He gives me a chilling smile. “it’s what I’m going to do.” Lifting the gun, he places it between Ty’s eyes.
I pull the trigger, the sound of my gun firing, rings out in the room, shooting his hand. Jake cries out, the gun falls from his hands and Ty knocks a fist into his face.
Matt turns and charges me. I pull the trigger again, but he’s already on me, the gun firing off into the ceiling as he picks my feet up off the floor. He slams my back into the coffee table, and it takes my breath away. Pain shoots up my side and a burning sensation follows that makes me see dots floating around.
Fuuuccckkkk!
“Don’t worry, Ryat.” He laughs in my face. “I’m going to make your wife my whore.”
No! “Over my dead body.” I grind out.
Laughing he ignores that and adds. “I won’t be stingy like you. I’ll make sure that everyone else gets a taste as well.” Getting up off me, I start coughing, sucking in a ragged breath. I feel wetness on my back and know that the impact has done something to my already injured body. I’m bleeding out. Probably ripped open my stitches. I might die right here and now, but I will take Matt with me.
Gritting my teeth, I land a punch in his face, knocking him back, knowing I’m running out of time to do what I came to get done.
BLAKELY
I EXIT THE bathroom at the sound of gunshots. Ryat told me to stay here but I can’t. He’s alive! He came for me. I have to help him. In any way that I can.
Running down the hall, I hear people struggling—men grunting. Coming to a stop, I see Tyson kicking a man huddled on the living room floor by the couch. He stops and the man rolls onto his back, moaning in pain, face covered in blood and cradling a bloody hand to his chest.
Tyson leans down, retrieving a gun from the floor and straightens, pointing it down at who I now recognize is Mr. Winston—Matt’s dad. “If the Lords want you dead, then you already are.” Tyson fires the gun at him, shooting Jake in the face.
I yelp, jumping back and my ears now ringing.
“DAD!” Matt yells, running over to him.
Tyson takes a step back, the gun hanging at his side.
Matt drops to his knees and pounds his fists into his father’s chest. His heavy breathing fills the room when he wipes his own bloody face with the back of his hand.
I smile, the scene all too familiar. I was doing the same thing to Ryat when Matt shot him. But only I know Ryat really didn’t die. Jake is dead. The fact that half his face is gone, says it all. “Karma is a bitch.” I say but I don’t think anyone hears me.
Matt jumps to his feet. He goes to charge Tyson, but he lifts the gun again, pointing it at Matt’s chest. He comes to a stop, his nostrils flaring and chest heaving. “You son of a bitch! I will fucking own you!” Matt shouts.
“You always were a worthless Lord.” Tyson tilts his head to the side. “They should have killed you years ago.”
Matt’s face turns red and his blue eyes narrow to slits at his words. “Do it!” He slaps his own chest like a gorilla. “Fucking kill me you sorry son of a bitch!” Matt screams.
“In time.” Tyson tells him calmly.
“You don’t have the fucking balls!” He eggs him on, stepping into the barrel.
Tyson takes the gun and slaps Matt across the face with it. So hard it knocks him to his knees “You of all people should know the Lords don’t allow us the easy way out.” Tyson squats down next to him. “They make us suffer more than anyone.” Then he looks up and I see Ryat stepping behind Matt.
He grips a handful of Matt’s hair and yanks his head back, before sinking a needle into his neck. Matt’s body falls to the floor next to his dead father.
“Ryat!” I gasp, running to him.
“Blake,” He mumbles my name when my body connects with his.
I wrap my arms around him, and he stumbles back. His hands go to my hair, but he doesn’t hug me as tight as I do him.
“Whoa!” Tyson grabs my arms and yanks me free of Ryat.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, wiping the tears that run down my face. I didn’t even realize I was crying until now.
“We gotta get them to the plane.” He snaps, helping a pale-face Ryat over to the couch. He sits him down and I see he’s bleeding.
“Oh my, God. Is he going to be okay?” I ask panic gripping my chest. What happened? Did Matt shoot him again?
“I’m fine,” Ryat coughs out.
And the look that Tyson gives me says the opposite. “Ty—”
He places his hands on my shoulders, giving me a little shake. “I need your help, okay?”
_______________
“I’M GOING TO get Matt on the plane and secured, and then I’ll come back and get Ryat,” Tyson informs me.
“Okay.” I nod, running my hand through Ryat’s dark hair while his head rests in my lap in the back seat. “I can’t believe you,” I say angrily. He shouldn’t have even come. He wasn’t ready to leave the hospital.
“You were in trouble,” he manages to wheeze out.
“You’re right. You are in trouble,” I snap at him. “Putting your life in jeopardy. Again.”
He coughs. “You did it … too.” Pushing off my legs, he rises.
“Ryat! You’re supposed to wait …”
“I can walk, Blake.” He shoves the car door open and gets out.
“Shit!” I jump out on my side and run around the back just in time to see his knees buckle. “I got you.” I grab his arm and wrap it around my shoulders, holding him up.
“I told you to wait!” Tyson snaps at me, running down the stairs from my father’s private jet.
“It was his idea!” I growl, tattling on my husband like a child.
Coming up to us, Tyson grabs his arm and takes my position. I help the best I can to get him up the stairs and into the plane, but I feel like it’s more of those better jobs for one person sort of thing.
“Open the bedroom door.” Tyson gestures with his chin to the back of the plane.
I run ahead of them and shove it open, holding it while he helps Ryat inside. He sets him on the edge of the bed. “Stay right here.” Then he looks at me. “Don’t let him lay down. Keep him sitting up.” Before digging into his pocket, handing me a pocketknife. “Cut his shirt off him.”
I nod, taking it. “Okay.”
“Blake,” Ryat whispers when I just stand here.
“I know,” I sniff and fumble with trying to open the damn thing. I drop it on the floor. “Shit.” And pick it up.
He reaches up, placing his bloody hands on my shaky ones. My eyes meet his—he looks exhausted. “I’m sorry.”
He frowns.
My throat closes. “For this … for you. I did this …” Sniffing, my bottom lip begins to tremble.
“No. You didn’t, Blake.” He shakes his head once.
A tear runs down my cheek. “Thank you for saving me.” I’m still having trouble believing he’s alive in front of me. I’ve seen the vision of him laying dead on the cabin floor too many times to now accept this is real. That I get another chance to be with him.
“I told you.” He gives me that Ryat smirk. “I’ll always find you.”
The door to the room opens, and Tyson enters once again with a bottle of scotch in his hand and pills in the other. “Take these.” He shoves them into Ryat’s hand and then opens the bottle before also handing that over. Then his hard blue eyes look at me. “I need that shirt off!”
Carefully, I cut down the front of it, making sure I don’t cut Ryat on accident. Once I’m done, Tyson rips it off the rest of the way and tosses it to the floor. “Stand in front of him. I’m going to need you to hold him in place.”
“What do you mean in place?” I rush out.
But he ignores me and climbs onto the bed and sits behind him. “Ryat, man, I gotta close this up.”
“I know,” he acknowledges before taking another gulp of the liquor.
Tyson opens up a briefcase of some sort, and my eyes widen when I see what’s in it. But I’m not sure why. I should have expected this kind of shit on my father’s private jet since he’s a Lord. I’m sure this situation happens often when they go on assignments. “I have a needle and thread, but that’ll take too long. My other option is staples—”
“Burn it,” Ryat growls, interrupting him. “Cauterizing will be the fastest way.”
“What?” I ask, that panic gripping my chest. “No. There has to be something …”
“Do you want him to bleed out?” Tyson snaps at me, and I swallow, shaking my head.
“Hey.” Ryat takes my shaking hands in his and pulls me into him, looking up at me. And all I can think about is those pain pills aren’t going to kick in fast enough. He’s going to feel this.
“Do we have any drugs?” I ask, licking my wet lips. We need what Ryat gave me when I ran. It knocked me out almost instantly. Tyson shakes his head without even looking up at me.
“It’ll be okay. I promise,” Ryat assures me when he sees the way my shoulders tense.
“Hand me the scotch,” Tyson demands, pointing at it on the small ledge next to the bed. I do as he says. “Put this in his mouth.” He hands me a washcloth.
Before I can do anything, Ryat snatches it from my hand and shoves it into his mouth, and then wraps his arms around my waist, while I stand between his parted legs. Letting out a shaky sigh, I wrap my arms around him, holding the side of his head to my chest.
Tyson takes a lighter and runs it along the blade of the knife, heating up the metal that he’s going to use to stop it. I blink, allowing the fresh tears to fall so I can see better.
Placing the handle of the knife between his teeth, he picks up the scotch and pours it over my husband’s back. Ryat tenses, and a muffled sound comes from his gagged mouth.
I whimper, and Tyson’s blue eyes glare up at me as if I’m making it worse.
I gently scratch Ryat’s head, holding him to me, and I know he can feel me shaking. Then Tyson heats the knife up once again before pressing it—blade flat—along the cut on my husband’s back, who tightens his hold on me.
The smell of burning flesh is enough to make me want to vomit. Then to know it’s my husband literally has me gagging. But I manage to keep it down.
Once done, Tyson drops the knife beside him before grabbing something from the briefcase and taping it up.
I look up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from falling before I have to look at Ryat in the eyes again. I don’t want him to see me upset.
“That’ll be good enough until we can get him to the hospital. I’ll let the pilot know we’re ready. Make sure he lays on his stomach.” And with that, he leaves us alone.
_______________
I EXIT THE bedroom, leaving the door open so I can hear if he needs me. I walk down the aisle and come up to the front where Tyson sits. Typing away on his cell, I sit across from him, thinking it would be awkward if I chose anywhere else since we’re the only two awake. “He’s asleep,” I inform him, and he nods but doesn’t look up at me.
“I didn’t watch you and Ryat in the basement.” He says out of the blue.
Frowning, I argue. “But you told Matt …”
“I gave Ryat the codes to shut off the security cameras. I knew you two spent some time in the basement that night when he turned them off along with the others inside the club.”
I let out a lone breath at his words. Ryat was right—he was a hundred percent on our side.
Another awkward silence falls over us, not really having anything to say to that. I feel stupid now that I believed him. But in my defense, it was very convincing. “I … thank you.” I hold out his pocketknife for him.
He finally looks up but makes no move to take it from me. “It’s bad luck to close a knife that someone else opened.”
Sighing, I close it and hand it out again. He takes it this time.
He finishes typing on his cell and then puts it away, sitting back in his seat, and grabs a glass of scotch that sits on the table between us. I notice there’s another one. “I made you a drink.”
I just stare at it, making him chuckle and add, “I didn’t drug it.”
“I wish. I could use a good nap right now.” Then my eyes slide over the empty plane. “Where is Matt?”
“Where he belongs—with the luggage.”
Looking back down at the drink, I almost take a sip but then remember the possibility of being pregnant. I doubt he knows that, though. I wonder if he knows I know what happened to him. Or the rumors about his chosen?
“Can I give you some advice?” he asks.
I look up at him through my lashes. “Yeah.” Honestly, I’m fucking drowning. Out in the middle of the ocean with my hands tied behind my back. My husband is passed out in a room behind me after his friend took a heated knife to his skin to stop the bleeding from a gunshot wound my ex gave him trying to kill me. Fuck, yeah. Give me all the advice you got.
“Don’t ever make him choose.”
I frown. “I don’t under …”
“Between you and the Lords.”
Why would he think I’d make Ryat choose? I understand that he took an oath for them. And if they betray that, the penalty is death. “I would never …”
“You will. You may not mean to, but you’ll fight. Every couple does.” He takes a sip of his drink. “And when you get mad, he’ll yell and say some hurtful shit and then he’ll get called away for an assignment. And when he should be working, he’ll be checking his phone to see if you ever responded to his five apology texts.” He looks over at the window, the glass of scotch resting on his knee. “I’m not saying he’ll choose the Lords over you if you put him in that position.” His eyes come back to mine. “I’m telling you that he will pick you. And that’s what will get him killed. I know it’s selfish. To tell you to forget about your feelings and always put his first.”
“Isn’t that what you do when you love someone?” I ask softly.
He lifts his drink to his lips and snorts before throwing some back. “No two people love the same way. And everyone has a different opinion on what love actually is.”
I sigh. Ryat and I do fight. A lot. Will it always be like this? Once everything is out in the open and there are no more secrets, will we still go at each other’s throats? I can’t answer those questions, but I do understand that Tyson isn’t wrong. Ryat would go crazy if he had to leave, and I was mad and ignoring his texts. “How often will they take him from me?”
“There are no set dates. But Ryat is one of the best, and the Lords know that. It could be three times in one year or it could be twenty.” He shrugs carelessly. “He could get called out after breakfast and return before dinner. Or he could miss Christmas, anniversaries, and the birth of every child you guys decide to have.” Lifting the drink, he finishes it off. Setting it down on the table, he runs a hand down over his lips and unshaven face. “A Lord serves whenever he is called. We’re machines bred for war. And someone, somewhere is always trying to wage one.”
His answer doesn’t make me feel any better. But it makes me wonder how he knows this. Is it from experience? I know something happened to his chosen, but he also doesn’t wear a wedding ring. Which makes me curious why he never moved on. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” He surprises me with no hesitation.
“You’re older.”
A sly smile spreads across his face, making his blue eyes shine brighter. “That’s not a question.”
I swallow nervously. “Three years older than Ryat. Why aren’t you married to a Lady?” He just stares at me, that smile now gone, and I feel I need to explain. Shifting in my seat, I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “I thought you know, pretty much all Lords are arranged to marry someone before they graduate from Barrington.”
He nods. “They are. The Lords feel a man is better respected with a wife. It makes them look dependable and trustworthy to the outside world.”
“So you never had an arranged marriage in place?” I’m not sure if his chosen was just for fun or if she was the one he planned on marrying, but I’m not going to ask him that.
“There was.” He relaxes back into the leather of his seat. “But circumstances change. And I saw an opportunity. The Lords needed someone to do their dirty work.”
“Blackout?” I make sure I’m following.
He nods. “I was supposed to wear a suit and tie, run a multibillion dollar business—have the gorgeous wife with a dog, two kids.” He waves his hand in the air. “All that shit. Which, at one point, I thought I wanted. But just like anyone else, I changed my mind and presented the Lords with an offer. I choose to take Blackout for one reason.”
“Which is?” I ask slowly, wondering if I’m digging in too much, but he’s willingly giving me information. Ryat would never tell me about Tyson, and I respect that about him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.
“They agreed to let me pick who I marry. When the time comes.” A slow devious smile spread across his face, showing off his perfectly white teeth.
My frown deepens. “You wanted freedom to pick who you marry so much that you gave up your higher title of a Lord?”
That smiles widens into something sinister. “I’m the kind of man who will crawl across the floor and lick the dirt off your shoes like a peasant begging a king for some scraps. Just to make you think I’m weak. So, when they look away from me, I can slit their throats.”
