I walk over to the body. There’s a reason I didn’t shoot him. I don’t want to haul a body down the stairs.
“Stand back,” I order.
For once, Liesel listens as I squat down to stare at the bastard. I should be thanking him. He gave me a reason to be in Liesel’s life again.
Then I heave him up over the railing and watch as his body falls down the twelve stories and hits the sidewalk below.
There is a soft screech that reaches our ears from up here.
People will believe it was a suicide. I’ll take care of the security cameras so no one knows we were up here with him.
Even if the police don’t believe it, they won’t trace his death to us. And if they found out someone in the Black family was involved, they wouldn’t care. They know they have no power against us. We rule wherever we go.
I grab Liesel’s arm—she trembles at my touch, and then I lead her back inside, off the balcony. Just because I can convince the police of anything doesn’t mean I want to deal with them.
Liesel doesn’t comment on how I decided to deal with the body. She may not have spent her life killing, but she’s watched me kill. She’s watched Enzo and Zeke. She’s seen as much death as I have. She’s felt as much loss.
She’s just as broken and fucked up as I am.
I stop us in the hallway, and I cage her in, putting my arms on either side of her head. She doesn’t act like she’s trapped, though.
That’s because she’s not. My tricks don’t work on her, just like hers don’t work on me.
“We’re done then. I won’t see you again for six months or more. And when we both go to our friends’ birthday parties for their kids, we won’t speak to each other. Yes?” Her voice is sharp, full of authority.
She’s my rival in every sense. Even if I was okay with her suggestion, I wouldn’t let her win this easily.
I lean in, our faces inches apart until she can feel the power of every word I say to her.
“We aren’t done, baby. I did you a favor. I killed for you. There was a time I would have done it for free, but not anymore. Now you owe me a debt.”
Her nostrils flare, her pupils dilate, and her heartbeat jumps in her throat.
I drag my eyes down her body one last time—over her perfect blonde curls, down her sharp clavicles to her full breasts, over her lace-covered stomach, drooling as I continue down her hips to the slit revealing her toned legs. She’s every man’s dream—but she’s my nightmare.
“I’ll pay you whatever you want.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want your money.”
She takes a shuttered breath. I have no doubt that her panties are soaked.
I let my eyes darken. I let my voice deepen. I let every bit of the menacing beast inside me roar to life. The part of me that scares most people, but will only turn Liesel on even more.
That will confuse her even more than she’s already perplexed.
She thinks I came for her, and I did. She’s terrified of what I could do to her. And she should be because I’ll take more than she can ever imagine.
“You owe me a debt, Liesel Dunn. You’ve owed me a debt for a long time. And soon, I plan on collecting.”
7
Liesel
I owe Langston a debt.
He thought those words would scare me. He thought he could just demand I give him whatever he wants because he killed for me.
I don’t think so.
He calls me huntress, but I’m so much more—lawyer, badass woman, queen. I don’t take orders from anyone. I don’t owe anyone. Especially not an egotistical man on a power trip who negated our agreement when he killed Fitz instead of letting me do it like we agreed.
As far as I’m concerned, I owe him nothing for what he did. He didn’t keep to our verbal contract.
I’d be willing to pay him for his time, nothing more.
And as for any past debts I owe him, he can suck it. Our past stays in the past.
There is no way he’s going to start collecting on old debts. If he does, then it means I get to collect too, and he owes me as much or more than I owe him.
But I know what Langston really wants. The same thing he’s always wanted.
Me.
My body.
My soul.
He wants to control me. He wants to boss me around in the bedroom.
No way in hell am I letting that happen.
Not just because I’d be cheating on Waylon if I did. Langston doesn’t deserve that part of me—ever.
And the only person left on this earth who terrifies me is Langston.
“You’re all worked up, my love,” Waylon says, kissing my shoulder.
He’s right. He can read me well when I get worked up like this. My body is hot and agitated and horny. God, I’m so horny.
Sure, Langston turned me on. He’s a blonde god in a tux. He looked like a hotter James Bond. I’ve seen Langston a lot of ways—T-shirt and shorts, shirtless in swim trunks, even naked. But it’s a rare occasion to see him in a tux or suit. He hates them.
Yet, he can wear a tux with the best of them. He fits into the world of powerful men, whether he wants to or not. All he has to do to belong is get a respectable job and wear a suit or tux with pride.
But that’s something Langston will never do. He’d rather take orders from his best friend. Protect and serve—that’s Langston.
I used to like it, especially when he was protecting me. But I lost that right a long time ago. And apparently, now I have to pay him back when he protects me.
Ugh, how annoying.
The elevator doors open to Waylon’s penthouse. He has an early flight tomorrow, which is why we are staying here tonight instead of my place. People used to think it was weird that we both still have our own places, but both places are incredible; it would be a shame to give either of them up. We can easily afford both. And they are located across town from each other, which makes it convenient to stay at one or the other depending on our schedules.
“You think you can help me work off some steam?” I ask, running my tongue over my bottom lip.
His eyes light up with anticipation. He loses his stone, distinguished expression, and turns into a horny boy willing to please me—just the way I like it. Some women prefer a man who dominates them in the bedroom, one who ties them up, spanks them, bosses them around.
Not me—that all seems too degrading. I like the power. I like to be the boss.
Maybe it’s because of my history.
Maybe it’s because of who I am.
Either way, it’s the only way I fuck—I’m the one who dominates.
Waylon unlocks the front door and holds it open for me.
I grab his tie as I walk past and yank him inside before slamming him against the wall, already feeling a tiny bit better now that I’m going to get a dozen orgasms tonight to make up for what Langston said and did.
“Yea, baby, use me. Hurt me. Take out your anger and pent up emotion on me. I want to know how badly you want me, because it can’t be as much as I want you,” Waylon says, kissing my neck sweetly.
I smirk. He has no idea about my past, but he does know that I’m fucked up.
And then I remember the cameras.
There are more in Waylon’s place than in mine. Here there are even cameras in the bedroom.