Page 26 of Wicked Heir


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So, I watched Molly because I couldn’t stay away. I wanted her desperate. I wanted her wild with it. Her apartment owner was easy enough to pay off, and I had my men watching Henry, her father. I was keeping tabs on everyone else in her life, from her co-workers to the overly interested pastor who ran her writing group. I was slowly weaving a web around her, waiting for it to knit together into something that wouldn’t simply snare her but break her heart. I wanted nothing left for her except me.

At the bar, I saw her lift her head and look up at someone approaching. Every line of her slim frame stiffened. I followed her gaze, incredulous at what I saw. A man approached the bar, stumbling a little on the expensive carpet. I recognized his features with a slight thrill.

Kaplan Holmes, the original bully asshole, in the flesh. It was a Black Hall Prep reunion tonight. I cracked my knuckles under the table and pictured beating Kap’s preppy, arrogant face into a meaty pulp. Hmmm, something to look forward to.

I’d known of him, of course, given his father was still trying to achieve his pathetic senate ambitions, but our paths hadn’t crossed. Kap hadn’t turned out to be important enough in any aspect to run into a man like me.

Tonight, that changed.

He approached the bar, and Molly tried to escape to the other side, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

Fury filled me immediately, and my hand moved to the knife in my belt. I was going to gut him slowly.

No one offended or scared Molly except me. She was mine to toy with.

“Trouble at the bar, boss?” Ivan asked, following my gaze.

He pointed to the end of the bar, where three water bottles with bar staff names sat. I’d seen Molly drinking from one often. One of Kap’s friends had his hand on it.

So, more than one person would be dying tonight. It was every single fucker who had come with Kap, knew him, or even thought for a second that messing with Mallory Madison was on the cards.

Mallory was mine.

* * *

In the end,I didn’t stop Mallory from drinking the drugged water. She should learn to be more careful. There were worst things than Kaplan Homes out there in the city at night, me being one of them. I hoped she’d remember the lesson she was about to learn. I sent men down to control the situation and sat back and watched it unfold.

Mallory drank. It was getting hot in the club, and she’d stripped off her plaid overshirt. Now she only wore a tight black vest and black jean shorts that showed far too much of her long, shapely legs to the rabble.

I saw the moment when she swayed and put out a hand to steady herself as the drug took effect. I wasn’t the only one watching. As Molly staggered away from the back of the bar toward the staff area, Kap Holmes stood and followed.

Blood lust and the need to hurt him burned inside me. The monster that fed on the excitement of inflicting pain had awoken. My men were spread throughout the club, and I knew Ivan was following Kap. I rose, left the VIP area, and headed where Molly had disappeared. A hunter on the prowl.

I followed my men's path down a side hall to the staff room. Max stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. He stepped back as I entered. Mallory was flopped on the floor near the door, and Kaplan Holmes was pressed against the wall with Ivan’s gun at his temple.

Mallory looked up at me blearily as I entered. Broken glass crunched under my shoes as I walked. It was quiet. Only Kap’s boorish mouth-breathing filled the space, along with the scent of Mallory’s vomit. She clutched a waste bin to her chest and tried to catch her breath. My heart beat strangely as her hazy eyes focused on me and fluttered closed. She looked pale and wretched. It seemed Kap had a heavy hand with his date rape technique.

I turned my attention away from her and to the man struggling in the corner. His meaty face turned red from exertion as he tried to break Ivan’s grip.

“What the fuck? Are you guys cops?” he grunted.

“Cops? You wish.” Ivan chuckled, pressing harder against Kap’s windpipe to silence him.

“We aren’t cops, Kaplan. Don’t tell me you don’t recognize your old classmate. I’m not so different, surely?” I drawled.

Kap’s attention fixed on me, and his brow scrunched as he tried to place me. I was lying. Iwasdifferent. Very different.

“But we didn’t run in the same circles, did we? Why would you remember the poor charity case whose life you tried to make hell?” I ambled toward Kap and saw the exact moment he recognized me. His face went white with shock and something else. Something delicious. Fear.

“You know me. I’m surprised,” I murmured, withdrawing my knife from my belt. I twirled it between my fingers with ease, and his eyes fixed on it. “Few people connect charity chase Kirill Lewis with Kirill Viktorovich Chernov. Not as dumb as you look, Kap.”

“My father told me. He said Viktor Chernov was your father, and I shouldn’t mess with you. I didn’t realize what kind of man Viktor was . . . or you. But I found her for you . . . I found her and told people about her.” Kaplan’s voice was desperate.

I turned and raised an eyebrow at Max, who nodded in confirmation. Now I thought of it, I’d been so eager to see Mallory that I hadn’t asked many questions about how Max had finally found her. Kaplan Holmes was why we’d met in the first place, and he was the person who reunited us. The consequences of that small act would be the end of him. The kismet of it all was beautiful.

“I suppose I should be thanking you. Why didn’t you tell her about me?”

“What was I supposed to say? That you were . . .” he trailed off, clearly struggling to put into words the kind of monster my reputation made me out to be without offending me. Little did he know my reputation was tame compared with reality.

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