Page 61 of Twisted Tate

For a split second, neither of us moves.

“Who are you?” His voice is sharp with confusion. “What the hell are you—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence because his eyes land on Reese.

The expression that crosses his face makes me want to rip his throat out with my teeth. The room is on fire about to take the rest of the house with it, and this fuck is looking at her with a hunger that makes me physically ill.

“Reese.” He says her name like he has control over her. “What are you doing here? Your father has been looking everywhere for you.”

Reese clutches the back of my shirt.

“Get her out of here.” I don’t look away from Michael. “All of you. Go.”

“Tate—” Fox starts.

“I said go.” My voice leaves no room for argument. “Get the women outside.”

Fox hesitates for only a second. Then he nods and pushes the others toward the stairs. Ivy pulls Reese along, but Reese resists.

“No.” She yanks her hand free. “I am not leaving you.”

“Baby girl—”

“He hurt me for years.” Her voice is shaking, but her eyes are fierce. “I am not running from him anymore.”

Michael laughs. The sound makes my skin crawl.

“Is this what you have been doing, Reese? Spreading your legs for whoever this lowlife is?” He takes a step toward us, and I move to block his path. “Your father is going to be very disappointed. You know how he feels about you giving it away for free.”

“Don’t speak to her.” My hand goes to the gun at my hip. “Don’t even fucking look at her.”

“Or what?” Michael’s smile is ugly, confident. He doesn’t understand the danger he is in. “You are going to shoot me?”

“I’d prefer to kill you much slower than that and let my girl carve whatever pound of flesh she wants from your sorry ass.” I take another step. The heat from the fire is at my back now, the flames spreading faster. “But dead is dead.”

“Your girl?” Michael’s eyes dart to Reese, then back to me. He laughs. “She’s—”

“Allow me to introduce myself, you bastard. I’m Tate Sinclair.” I am close enough to touch him now. Close enough to see the fear starting to creep into his eyes. “And you are never going to touch my girl again.”

The fire crackles behind us. The smoke is getting thicker, making it hard to breathe. We need to move, need to get out before the whole floor collapses.

But I am not leaving without making sure Michael Collier never hurts anyone again.

“Tate.” Reese’s voice cuts through the roar of the flames. She’s fighting sobs and starting to cough. “We need to go.”

She is right. I know she is right. But every cell in my body is screaming at me to end this piece of shit right here, right now.

“You should listen to your whore.” Michael’s voice drips with contempt. “Run along, Sinclair. This doesn’t concern you.”

I grab him by the throat and slam him against the wall. His head cracks against the plaster, and his eyes go wide with shock.

“What did you call her?”

“Tate!” Reese is beside me now, her hand on my arm. “The fire. We have to go.”

Michael is clawing at my hand, gasping for air. His face is turning red, then purple. I could kill him right now. I could squeeze until his windpipe collapses and watch the life drain from his eyes.

“Do you still want him dead, baby girl?”