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“But how long she stays that way is up to you. So stand the fuck down and call off your guys, or little princess is gonna be punished.” I pause, the corners of my lips lifting. “And you can take that any way you want. Let your mind wander. I dare you.”
Chapter21
Zak
“Ican’t believe you just said that to him.”
Skyla’s shocked and incredulous whisper makes me chuckle.
“Well, it’s supposed to be your wedding night, yeah? You should be fucked raw.”
“I don’t have a husband, you sicko.”
“Not yet.” I walk back to pick up my duffel bag and unzip it again. I toss in a few magazines and two guns. I grab a jacket, throw it on, and stick another gun into the waistband of my sweatpants. But I need something else.
I scour the room until the gleaming handle of my stiletto knife catches my eye. I grab it from a table near the couch and turn toward Skyla. I press the button, a stainless steel blade shoots from the top. I hold it in front of her face before laying the blade on the tip of her nose. She stiffens, not moving a single muscle.
“Are you wondering what I’m gonna do with this knife?”
She swallows hard but doesn’t answer.
Defiance.
Good, I’ll fuck that out of her later.Hard.
“Yeah. Now you are.” I pull it away and retract the blade before sticking it in my pocket. “Let’s go.”
Slinging my bag over my shoulder again, I walk toward the front door and poke my head into the hallway. It’s brightly lit and quiet. I step into the hallway, wait for Skyla to join me, then pull my door closed. I twist my key in the lock and guide her toward a back staircase.
“Why aren’t we going out the front?”
I push open the stairwell door and palm my gun. “Nobody is gonna know we left, not even my brothers’ guys. Nobody will see us; nobody will hear us. And pretty soon we’ll be lost on Brickell Bay Boulevard.”
“On foot?”
“It’s just up the road a little bit. A little walk won’t kill us.”
Skyla huffs. “No, but a drive-by might.”
We get to the bottom of the stairwell. I give the door a shove, the Bay air muggy and stifling. We leave the air-conditioning and step into the soup. I pull at my t-shirt a few seconds afterward. It sticks to me like a piece of Saran Wrap.
I look at Skyla. Her skin glistens with sweat, but she doesn’t make a move to mop it off. There’s a boutique hotel a few blocks up. Very exclusive. Only a few suites. Nobody will go looking for us there. And I think I made it damn clear to Stuart St. James what I’ll do if he makes a single dipshit move.
Except he doesn’t know I’m gonna make good on all my threats whether or not he makes said dipshit move.
I reach down and lace my fingers with hers as we walk, that fucking rock scraping against my fingers. “I told you to take this thing off.”
She sidesteps a group of drunk girls in bikini tops and the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen. They slow down and give me the side-eye, letting out a low whistle. I swallow a laugh when Skyla stops short and twists to face them.
“He’s taken. Move the fuck on.”
One of the girls stupidly sways closer, blasted out of her mind. “Maybe he’d like to take another car for a test drive. Maybe one that’s not buried under a huge mound of clothes.”
“Keep walking or I’ll tear those extensions out of your head.” Skyla lets go of my hand and balls up her fist, keeping Tyson’s ring pointed outward.
The girl gapes at the ring and stumbles backward. “Bitch.”
“Whore.” Skyla narrows her eyes. “Go back to your brothel.”
