Page 27 of Boneyard HEA

“You earned the first clue. One of the men has a scar.”

My nipple aches, but I steel myself for whatever image this will be as he clicks the mouse. The screen shows a single enhanced frame from the video of a…a cock. What else would I expect in this disgusting vid?

A crescent-shaped scar swipes across, midway down an erect penis.

He hauls me onto his lap so I can see it properly, and I try to ignore his hands as he draws my hair back from my shoulders then puts his arm about my waist.

“There. See it?”

“Yes. I don’t suppose you know who?” What a question. Out of how many billion men.

Tomás answers, “We don’t, but the odds are good that he will be a CNC Frat member.”

“Yes,” Loxland says. “Nathan associated closely with our people. He was a member of my syndicate also.”

“Your what?” I half turn, a squeak having entered my voice.

“A betting syndicate. It’s worldwide. We make money using the statistical chance of winning things such as lotteries.”

“Not money,” Tomás says. “You make billions.”

“Ah.” I blink. I guess billions are more than just money.

For a math nerd, this is almost expected. This or him being a stockbroker. And there, I’ve run out of possibles. That’s how much I know about making billions. An idea lights up, slots into place, and I realize that what they’ve demanded of me is nothing. Far more important is what I just figured out.

I’m no math genius, but what he is doing here, it’s grounds for charging them with aiding a murderer—as in me. He said he would hand me over to the law if I reneged, but now he can’t, if I do this right.

If this hard drive or evidence of him doing that search on the video ever reaches the cops, he and Tomás will be charged.

Yes, I may love my introduction to kink and domination, and even this new appreciation of fear they’ve given me—fear is like extra spice on your food, except it’s sex, not food—but I’m not doing this for personal discovery. I’m getting vengeance for Riley.

I have discovered the best-ever hidden weapon. An ace.

“How many other clues has this given you?”

“Show us your obedience, and then I will reveal them. There are two more.”

“Aaron.” Tomás holds up his phone. “A man is missing after a swim, presumed swept away and drowned, though his car is also missing.”

They’ve found out. My heart thuds one beat, hard, then gallops.

“Oh. Nothing else?”

“No, though they are also looking for the car. No worries about it. It’s down south and in pieces by now. Engine VIN will be melted off, stripped away, poof, gone.”

“Good.” Loxland wraps both arms around me as if to hug me.

Hesitantly, I hold his forearm, my hand curling over it. I find comfort in the muscles and the hair under my fingers. In his scent, even.

Maybe I want to kill some men, but right now, I like where I am.

“Ethan and Baxter.” I raise my head as I say it. “I bet you know them. They’re on my list because they were his friends and were at the trial.” I hesitate before adding, “Seen their dicks?”

“They’re members,” Tomás says, chuckling, “and no that’s not a euphemism for dick. Long-term members of the CNC Frat.”

I snicker as he says long-term members, imagining long dicks, then shake my head. “Sorry.”

“Just one problem, if you think they were involved in this.” Loxland turns the chair we’re in, angles a finger toward the screen.