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There was a special place, an infinite inferno of pain for men who hurt innocent women and men.
The woman’s cries turned into sobs.
Just as I was at my breaking point, the need to get into that room and help her an overwhelming urge, all hell broke loose in the family room.
I came around the corner, Sig up, ready to find my target, when Catarina violently attacking Martin distracted me from zeroing in on Dale. A swarm of black-clad men had taken over the room but it was clear which one was Jack. He was moving to Cat and Martin. Eden was already facedown, easily subdued. All of them were buyers in various positions of arrest.
I spotted Dale taking off toward the stairs. Two men stepped in front of him. Dale’s gaze swept the room and found me.
“You’re fucking dead,” he threatened.
Not the first time I’d heard that.
“The line is long before you’ll get your turn,” I returned. “And if you think Rohan’s your ace, think again. You’re nothing but a piece of shit American. He won’t help you.”
One of the Marshals stepped forward and jerked an arm behind Dale’s back.
Dale’s smile sent chills down my spine.
“Good luck.”
Fuck.
“Don’t need luck, asswipe.”
I had other more important shit to do than listening to scum spout meaningless threats.
“You’re right. Luck won’t help her.”
Her.
That got my attention.
I was across the room with my hand around Dale’s throat before a Marshal could stop me.
“I see you think you’ve got bigger balls than you actually have. You obviously know who I am, but make no mistake, motherfucker, you don’t know me,” I growled and lowered my face to his, enjoying the fear in his bulging eyes. “One more word about my woman and you won’t make the inside of a cell. I’ll end you.”
I shoved him back into the awaiting Marshal.
“Take this piece of shit out of here.”
“She’s already gone,” Dale choked. “You did that all on your own.”
He’d been watching Atlee so of course he knew she’d left.
Fucking dick.
Joan came into view and I almost didn’t recognize the woman in jeans, a black, long-sleeve shirt under her vest, black baseball cap pulled low, a grim scowl despite the flawless execution. There were two women besides, both dressed similarly. Joan paused in front of the movie theater door and I watched her pull in a fortifying breath before she and her companions entered.
I knew what that breath said.
I knew what it felt like to face a group of victims and wish the relief of being rescued could wash away the trauma they’d endured—yet, it couldn’t.
I turned back to the room and watched Jack sweep a furious Catarina off her feet. Her face went to his throat and he angrily stomped out the door to the outside patio.
There was definitely something going on there.
I hoped Jack knew what he was doing. Not that I had any room to speak on the matter, seeing as I’d royally fucked up with Atlee.
