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Jac isn’t done.
Shit.
“Jac, no!” I scream as I realize what he’s about to do.
Hendrick appears, takes in the scene in seconds, and lunges at Jac. But it’s too late.
Jac’s on the man, his head in his hands, and his neck at a strange angle from his violent twist…and the man’s dead.
His neck’s been snapped.
I stare at Jac who pushes a ringed hand through his dark blond hair, as if he’s starting to come back to his senses. Peering up with wild eyes, he meets my terrified gaze.
“What did you do, Jac?”
FOUR
HENDRICK
Jac sits on the floor, panting from, no doubt the fucking adrenaline rush.
“What the fuck do you think I did, MG?” His smug cockiness is miles away from the determined man who I met up with an hour ago. “Killed the dick who kidnapped you. A thank you or a blowjob would be nice. Maybe then I’ll think about letting you live.”
“Fuck you, Jac,” she spits.
I shake my head, not willing to look at her yet. Instead, my gaze is locked on the body next to Jac. The bastard didn’t even have a chance against Jac’s instantaneous rage. “Jesus, Miller,” I say, “what’s wrong with you?”
His gaze snaps to mine. “Rescued MG, took care of the fucker here.”
“Well, I can see the second part,” I mutter. Stupid fuck went in out of control.
Too fast, too hellbent on proving whatever point Jac Miller felt the need to make, in his mission to save Cat. Who—
This time, I lift my gaze to her and all the breath in me freezes.
Fuck.
Her gorgeous face.
I can’t stop staring at the bruises.
A violence, jagged and hungry, burns through my blood. Her face is bruised and…
“Someone hurt her,” Miller mutters.
Cat’s gaze is wary, annoyed, as it moves from me to Jac. And yeah, there’s guilt there, too. I half want to make a clever comment, but it’s not the time. We have shit to work out. And regardless, whether the dead guy deserved a Jac Miller neck snapping, it could have waited.
“Call someone to take out the trash, Agnossio. Though you might need to tell them you’re not the trash,” he says.
I flicker my glance at Jac, not bothering to hide the annoyance.
“What you did wasn’t very smart, Miller,” I say. “How is he useful to us now?”
Jac kicks the dead guy as I pull out my phone and make a call.
As he gets to his feet, I speak quickly to the concierge, arranging both a clear path to my suite and a clean-up detail. Then, I place an order via text because fucking Cat looks like an escapee from some cult in the linen day pajamas.
“Hendrick?” she says.
