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With Brett on the floor underneath me, I pushed his hand from my throat and jabbed him across the face… The bone in his eye socket cracked and gave way, the resistance breaking into softness. My lips twitched in satisfaction while the flesh reddened. Soon it would blacken into a bruised eye. It was less than what he deserved for the damage he did to her.
“She is mine, you understand?” I punched him again, striking his jaw. “Mine!” I yelled.
The gloves were off, the rules were broken. I raised my arm up high, ready to bring an elbow down on his smug face.
“Alastair!” Rose’s voice met me, a cry of desperation. It was about the only sound that could have broken through my rage. “Please, he’s all I have. Don’t hurt him.”
Her request froze me mid-strike, mounted on top of a man and ready to kill him. I stared down at this man, the man she loved and saw as a father, and I wanted to kill him. But then I saw her past the ropes of the boxing ring, and the way her eyes were wide, full of tears, her hands reaching out to try to stop me, and the desperation in the shape of her mouth… I would do anything to prevent that expression from ever gracing her face again.
I would do anything to keep those tears from her eyes.
Her tears belonged to me and me alone.
I started to lower my arm.
“Wrong move, lover boy.” Brett hissed.
His head came up and crashed into my nose. I went out cold.
It was dark in the room when I came to. Only a single overhead light in the basement gym was on. Under it was that bastard, Brett. He was sitting on a chair, his face shadowed by the harsh light.
“Good evening, lover boy.” His voice was like the hiss of a snake before a strike.
I groaned and started to sit up. My head was pounding.
“Opening my eyes and seeing your ugly face is, quite frankly, a waking nightmare.” I grumbled, but I still managed a smile seeing Brett’s black eye, swollen cheek and cut lip. “You’re even uglier than normal.”
“I’m not that thrilled to see you either,” he said flatly. “But I’m out of time.”
I came up to sit on my ass, crossing one leg. My head throbbed a slow rhythm, and I wasn’t entirely sure if this was real, or if I was dreaming.
“I’ll level with you, lover boy.” He brought a hand to his thigh, his elbow coming out to a ninety degree angle. “I need to go fix some things. That means I have to leave Rose alone. I need a good man to take care of her.”
I was definitely dreaming. There was no way that this conversation was happening.
“I don’t have a good man,” he said, bringing his other hand to his face, then raising a brow. “So I’ve got to settle for you.”
I rolled my eyes. Nope. Nevermind. There was the Brett I had come to know and loathe.
“I’m not going to ask you why you chose me.” I smiled. “When it’s clear, she has a thing for me.”
“You better watch your next words, pretty boy.” He hissed. “I don’t mind finishing what I started and making your eyes close permanently.”
I chuckled to myself. My ribs ached with the action, but it was worth it.
“If you love her, then why are you leaving her behind?” I finally asked when my head was on straight.
“I’m about to make the streets of New York run red with blood.” His voice held no malice, no emotion. It was simply flat. He was stating a fact. “Anyone who wishes to do her harm will have their heads on spikes outside of the Vasiliev mansion as a warning to anyone who would ever cross me or mine. You understand?”
His eyes had a small glint in them, as though he relished the violence he would inflict on his enemies. This fucker could gleefully torture his enemies. If nothing else, he’d happily inflict pain on anyone who hurt my iron rose. For that alone, he would have a semblance of respect from me.
“What do you need from me?” I asked.
“Protect her.” He commanded, taking on the air of that Army officer that I knew he had been. “With your life if you need to. And keep her out of New York.”
“Rose would be really good in a blood bath.” I grinned, thinking of my woman surrounded in blood red jewels from head to toe, in a red dress, walking down the avenue with guns in each hand like an avenging angel.
“Yes, she would, but she’s not ready. That’s what today was about,” he said, his hands now steepled under his chin. “She wouldn’t make the hard choice to knock me out to save herself. She could do it easily. Physically. But she still has a tender heart, and I blame you for making it worse. She’s not ready for the choices that have to be made.”
