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I curl my lip in disgust again. “Anthony left the liver from that organ trader in the fridge instead of putting it in the cooler like we told him. The sight of it made her sick.”
“Fucking idiot,” he growls.
When we’re back in the basement, Donovan begins to stir. I rub my hands together and plant my feet on the floor. “Alright. Let’s have some more fun.”
* * *
It’sfour in the morning by the time we’re done with Donovan. After beating him within an inch of his life, we decided to keep him alive for a little bit longer, his punishment for turning against us. He also still hasn’t told us where the Crimson Brotherhood is and if they’re planning to attack. We did manage to get other information out of him, though.
He’s been working with Dom for years, and he grew feelings towards Maya when she was here a year ago. This angered Ezra—rightfully so. Jay and I mostly kept our distance as Ezra began pummeling him into the ground, but he handed over the reins when he started to lose his energy.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel at least a little bad for the guy—that was Ezra taking it easy on him. After three days down here, Donovan is still determined to keep his loyalty to Dom Carlo until his inevitable death.
Victor came down sometime after one in the morning to help us clean up the blood and spit off the floor and walls. One look at Donny Boy had him keeping his mouth shut while Ezra was still fuming.
“I’m calling it a night,” I announce to no one in particular. Everyone is sweaty and exhausted. We’re all covered in Donovan’s blood, and we’re completely spent. We turn off the lights, leaving the rat in the dark where he belongs as we head up to our rooms. The house is silent except for the sounds of our boots thudding against the marble floor.
“I’m going to check on Maya,” Ezra says over his shoulder, making a beeline for her room. Vic, Jay, and I go upstairs, breaking off to our respective rooms.
Once inside, I kick the door shut and immediately peel my clothes off. I feel disgusting. This is the part of the job that I hate, being covered in someone else’s blood. You would think ten years of doing this would make me immune, but it never gets any easier. Because every time I feel that warm, coppery liquid hit my skin, it makes me want to go fucking feral.
I furiously shake my head, blocking out the memories of the screaming and gunshots that ultimately ended in my mother losing her life. That’s what drove me to do what I do.
Vengeance.
Outrage.
Pain.
So much pain.
After stripping off my clothes and turning the water on in the shower, I step into the hot spray, hissing as the water burns my skin. In the heat of the shower, my mind wanders away from Donovan’s torture to Maya. Almost instantly, my dick is standing at attention.
Fucking hell.
I don’t even know why I’m thinking about her right now. She’s beautiful, and it’s fun to mess with her, but I can’t do that to Ezra. He loves her like I’ve never seen anyone love another person before, and it would crush both of us if I acted on my urges.
Man, do I have urges…
But I can’t stop myself from thinking about her as I stroke myself. I grit my teeth and lean my head against the shower wall, furiously jerking myself off to the thought of her. There are so many filthy things I want to do to her. I think about the smutty book I finished this morning, how the main character was being railed by her love interest on the kitchen table, and that sends me over the edge.
In my mind, Maya is my main character, I’m her love interest, and I’m fucking her on the kitchen counter and every other surface of this entire house. I slam my hand down on the wet tile as I come, my warm seed spraying all over my shampoo bottle.
“Fuck,” I breathe, trying to catch my breath.
I quickly wash myself and step out of the shower. By the time I’m done getting ready for bed, it’s four-thirty in the morning. My stomach grumbles with hunger, but I’m too exhausted to go downstairs and get food, so I just go to bed.
I turn the lights off, instantly submerging myself in total darkness. The silence is deafening, but then I hear the telltale signs of Ezra’s feet thudding against the floor to his room. I lay on my back and wait for sleep to come.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
MAYA
Bright golden sunlightfilters through the slats of the blinds on the windows. I wince as I sit up in bed. My head is pounding. The clock on my bedside table says it’s nine o’clock in the morning.
I squint as I get up to go to the bathroom. When I walk in, a stack of fresh clothes and underwear is sitting on the edge of the sink, and I realize with happiness that they’re my clothes.
If my head wasn’t hurting so badly, I’d be jumping up and down with happiness. Finally, I don’t have to walk around this house full of men braless and in baggy clothing.
