“Boss, we got played.” The guy came back, pissed. “I went to their house to find that bastard Milford and guess what the butler says? Mr. Wright is busy putting his wife to sleep. That’s what he said. His wife.”
He spat on the ground and jerked a thumb toward me.
“Turns out this one isn’t the fiancée. She’s a goddamn decoy. The real one’s that other chick he left with.”
The pain radiated from my hand straight to my chest and for a moment, I couldn’t tell which hurt more—my body or my heart.
The gang leader snapped.
“You lying bitch!” he roared, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. “You think you can play me? Huh? I ought to slit your damn throat right now!”
The blade was already at my neck when, finally—finally—Milford showed up.
However, he didn’t bring the money. Instead, he brought an army of bodyguards, who stormed the place and beat the gang to the ground in minutes.
So that’s where he’d been. Not getting cash. Not negotiating. Just… putting Malissa to bed.
The ride back was quiet at first. Then, as he wrapped gauze clumsily around my mangled hand, he said with a sigh—like he was the one who’d been through something.