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“What are you doing, Danny?” she asks, jogging to keep up with my long strides. I can’t talk. Can’t focus on anything other than making my feet move. “Danny!”
We reach the stairs and Brad looks up to us as I pull Rose down them, halting his conversation with Ringo. His eyes jump from me to Rose, his forehead heavy. “Everything okay?” he asks, following our path as we round the bottom.
“Where are the men?”
“Playing cards in the dining room,” Brad answers, coming after us as I stalk off, sweating pure rage. “Danny, what the fuck?”
I shove the double doors open and find five of my men sitting around the table, each with playing cards fanned in their grasps. My eyes zero in on Watson. “Stand up,” I order, aware of the confused looks being tossed around by everyone here. Everyone except Watson. He knows.
Slowly, he rises to his feet, tossing his cards on the table. “She was asking for it.” He throws Rose a curled lip, and my anger ramps up, feeling Rose moving behind me, like she can hide.
“Did she actually ask for it?” The other men sit back on their chairs, moving as far away as possible without fleeing the room, and Brad curses under his breath from behind me.
“She didn’t need to.” Watson’s initial hard front is denting. He must be able to see my unbridled rage.
“Did she say no?” I drop Rose’s hand and approach Brad, reaching past his suit jacket and pulling his Glock free. He doesn’t stop me, but his eyes ask me if I know what I’m doing. I know exactly what I’m doing. I turn, and Watson starts backing up the second he sees what’s in my hand. “Whoa, Danny.” He laughs shakily, nervous as shit.
“Did she say no?” I repeat, releasing the safety.
His hands come up in surrender. “I don’t remember.”
I look at Rose. She’s staring blankly at me, her eyes empty. “Did you say no?” I ask her.
She nods.
Watson curses loudly. “You’re gonna believe a whore over a man who’s worked for you for ten years?”
I lift the gun, aim at his leg, and fire. Watson squeals and drops to his arse, clenching at his splattered kneecap. “Call her a whore again,” I demand. “Go on. Call her a fucking whore again.” He starts dribbling with the effort it’s taking him to keep his painful cries back. I put my hand out to Rose without taking my eyes off Watson bleeding all over the floor. “Come here.” I feel her hand lay in mine, and I pull her toward me, positioning her in front of my body, facing Watson. Sliding my hands under her armpits, I hold the gun in front of her.
“What are you doing?” Watson tries to scramble to his feet, but his knee fails him, sending him back to the carpet in a heap.
“Danny?” Brad’s tone is warning. And ignored.
“Take the gun,” I order Rose, claiming one of her hands and placing it on the Glock. Her other hand comes up with no instruction from me, both her small hands holding the gun, her arms braced. I direct her aim, getting it as close as I can without holding the gun myself. Then I release her, placing my hands on her hips. I bend and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Kill him.”
“Danny, for fuck’s sake,” Brad barks.
“Shut the fuck up,” I spit, watching as Watson turns pleading eyes onto every man in the room, looking for someone to save him. “Kill him,” I say again, before kissing her cheek softly. I feel her willowy frame tighten, her finger squeezing. Her jaw is like rock, her tenseness making her shake. She’s terrified. I reach forward and frame her arms with mine, steadying her. “You said no to him, Rose. No means no.”
Bang!
She drops the gun the second she’s fired it, swinging around and hiding in my chest. She can’t watch, but me? I take the greatest pleasure watching Watson’s eye socket explode, Rose’s aim slightly off, missing his forehead. He drops, screaming—the ear-piercing, shrill, painful kind of scream. The death scream. It makes my fucking ears bleed.
Dipping, I pick up the Glock and aim. With Rose held to my chest by one hand splayed across her back, I fire, putting Watson out of his misery and relieving my ears of his irritating cries.
Now, the room is silent, though a thousand words are being spoken through the eyes of my men.
They all know better than to speak those words. I engage the safety on the gun and toss it to Brad. He catches it, and a mild nod of his head tells me he understands. Although I spell it out, just so the others can hear. “When someone says no, they mean no.” I cast my eyes around the room. “I don’t associate with rapists.”
