Read on to enjoy an excerpt from the second Blood Brothers Standalone novel, Tempting Calm Waters:A Blood Brothers Standalone Book 2, featuring Scott Conrad.
Look for it in the spring of 2018.
PROLOGUE
____________________
Scott
Three years ago...
"What's your safeword, Bree?" I asked the drop-dead gorgeous brunette cuffed face-first to the St. Andrew's cross in front of me. I adjusted my grip on the braided leather handle of the cat o' nine tail flogger in my hand as I awaited her answer. I eyed the luridly bright-red marks on the soft skin of her upper back and sweet curvy little ass with a self-satisfied grin. They were hot as hell, and I damn well put every one of them there.
A moment passed, and she didn't answer.
"Answer me, Bree," I demanded gruffly, thinking she was just lost in subspace and needed a little prodding to respond. I'd been slowly working her up to this point for the last half-hour or so, and she tended to fall pretty deep when the endorphins kicked in.
She started mumbling to herself, but still didn't acknowledge my words or even my presence. I dropped the flogger and stepped closer to her as worry niggled in the back of my head.
"Bree?" I asked gently as I reached out to turn her face towards me. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her expression was a grimace of pain, not the blissed out, slack-jawed one of a happy sub deep in the euphoric high of subspace that I expected.
"Please hurt me, sir," she whispered roughly, her dark-brown eyes unfocused. "Please hurt me again. I deserve the pain." Tears began welling in her lost and broken gaze.
What the fuck? I immediately uncuffed her wrists and ankles from the cross and removed the nipple clamps I'd put on her earlier. I scooped up her petite little body and carried her over to the nearby bed, then sat down and cradled her against my bare chest as she began sobbing loudly.
All I could do was hold her and comfort her as she fell apart, still begging me to hurt her while I wondered what the hell was going on. She hadn't safeworded once while we played, hadn't seemed in distress at all until this moment. We'd been playing for a few weeks now, after thoroughly pre-negotiating everything beforehand. We'd discussed the safeword, hard limits, soft limits, everything. She said she was a masochist and got off on the pain, and I was a sexual sadist, so we'd been pushing the boundaries of pleasure and pain together and having a damn good time doing it. The sex was wild and explosive, and some of the best I'd ever had. She was passionate and enthusiastic about everything we'd done so far. I thought we were well-matched and on the same page, but clearly something else entirely was going on here.
"Bree, honey?" I said softly when she began to calm down a little. "Talk to me, babe. Are you okay? Why didn't you use your safeword?" I asked, my voice turning a little frustrated as I continued speaking. After all, what was the point of pre-negotiating anything if you couldn't trust your submissive to use the damn safeword? I might be a sadist, but I didn't want to hurt anyone against their will, or cause actual physical or psychological harm. The BDSM principles for any activity or relationship were that they be safe, sane, and consensual for that reason, and I staunchly followed them.
Suddenly, Bree glared at me and began struggling in my arms. I didn't want to hurt her, so I released my hold on her. She got to her feet and staggered. I unconsciously reached out to steady her, fearing she'd fall. She immediately batted at my hands and moved away from me.
"Don't touch me," she snapped out as she stared daggers at me. Good God, if looks could kill, I'd be a goddamn corpse.
"What the hell, Bree?" I growled at her in irritation as I stood.
"Why didn't you stop whipping me, you asshole?" she said accusingly as she pointed a finger at me.
"Because you didn't use your safeword," I answered her in confusion, ignoring the disrespect she just threw at me. She obviously wasn't in a good place right now, and we were clearly done playing. I figured it was best to let it go, and at this point I didn't think we would ever be playing together again anyway.
"Liar!" she practically shrieked out. "You ignored it because you wanted to hurt me. You...you sick fucker." She rushed forward, and before I could even react, she slapped me hard across my left cheek with a firm and stinging blow that snapped my head to the side. What the fuck?
She pulled her arm back to do it again, but I shot a hand out to grab her wrist. I had to grab her other wrist to keep her from smacking me with that hand. I grasped her tightly as she fought my hold on her. I'll be damned if I let her hit me again even if I didn't know what the fuck was going on here.
"You sick abusive bastard!" she screamed as she continued fighting to free herself from my strong grip.
Her words struck a nerve, and I instantly let go of her. I'd never been accused of that once since I got into the BDSM lifestyle, and her accusation stunned and offended me. She stumbled back and fell to the plush rug under her feet. "Shit," I said and moved forward to help her up.
"Stay the fuck away from me, Scott," she snarled out.
I stopped in my tracks with my hands up in a placating gesture as she pushed herself up onto her feet. I growled deeply, angry and wondering what kind of fucked-up Bizarro World I'd just stepped into. Bree was obviously unhinged and living in a fantasy world, but I certainly wasn't going to make it worse by going anywhere near her again.
She stalked over to the nearby dresser and grabbed her clothes off the top of it. "You are one sick fuck," she added vehemently as she pulled on the short cocktail dress she'd worn tonight. She snatched her heels up off the floor as she walked toward the door. "I don't ever want to see you again."
"Fine," I snarled out between clenched teeth. I was fine with never setting eyes on this crazy bitch ever again. Especially when she spouted out absurd bullshit lies about me. I watched her fling open the door and stomp out of the room, slamming the door in her wake.
I sighed and dropped down to sit on the bed, and stared around the playroom we'd reserved for the rest of the night. What the fuck just happened? How did I not see she was unstable before now? What kind of Dom didn't even realize it after playing with her multiple times? She'd hid it so well and apparently lied to me about everything, and must have been using me to hurt herself all along. What a sad fucked-up thing to do to yourself. I couldn't even hold on to the anger anymore. She obviously needed help, but thankfully that wasn't my problem. I didn't plan on ever spending any time with her again. Hell fucking no. I wasn't anyone's therapist. As a recovering addict, I could barely manage my own life most days.
I sighed in resignation and rose to clean up and put the room back the way it'd been when we came in here less than an hour ago. Once I was done I pulled my shirt and suit jacket back on, and left the room shaking my head at the unexpected turn of events tonight. I just wanted to go home now and forget this night even happened.
I left the room and made my way down the hall lined with doors to more private playrooms, then out into the main room of Désir Dangereux, the BDSM club that I'd been a member of for several years. I ignored the throbbing erotic dance music and the gyrating bodies on the dance floor. I walked past the sitting areas unfazed by the people making out and groping each other on the low sofas amid the sleek and decadent decor. I paid no mind to the people coming and going from the public dungeon room nearby where all the real action was taking place. I headed straight for the bar, deciding I needed a few moments to catch my breath before I went home.
"Good evening, Scott," Jack, the bartender said with a nod as I slid onto a stool in front of him.
"Hey." I nodded in acknowledgment at the tall balding man behind the bar. He was used to my laconic style of communication and didn't say another word. He reached under the bar and pulled out a cold sparkling water. He twisted the bottle open and sat it in front of me, then moved off to serve another patron.
I took a few swallows then stared at the bottle, wondering at my own stupidity and obliviousness over the last few weeks. I felt like a dumbfuck. I sighed and picked up the bottle again, intending to take another few sips before getting the hell out of Dodge. I'd had enough of this disaster of a night.
"Mr. Conrad," a deep British accented voice said from just behind me.
I turned and looked up and up at the grim-faced giant dressed in all black standing behind me. It was Pete, the club's head of security here, and at The Indigo Room, a nightclub I co-owned as a silent business partner with my best friend Calder Rennen. Pete was the biggest human being I'd ever seen. At least six and a half feet tall, well over three hundred pounds of pure muscle, and dwarfed my five-foot-eleven frame. We weren't close since I didn't work with him on a frequent basis, but we'd always gotten along just fine. It was apparent from the somber look on his face right now that he wasn't here just to say hi. The guy usually had a friendly smile on his face whenever we talked. He wasn't smiling at all right now, and I didn't like it one damn bit.
"Could you come with me please, sir?" he asked politely, but there was no mistaking it for anything but the order it was.
"What's this about, Pete?' I asked worriedly as I spun around on the stool to face him.
"Mr. Landis needs to see you in his office."
"O-kay..." I replied slowly as I frowned up at him. That didn't answer my question at all. Even though Rex Landis was a good friend of mine, being called to the club owner's office couldn't be anything good.
"You need to come with me, sir," Pete said more forcefully now as he arched a brow at me and gave me a hard stare. It was intimidating as fuck, and I certainly didn't want him manhandling me for the whole club to see.
"Alright," I said irritably as I raised my hands up in surrender. I slid off the bar stool, and Pete motioned me to walk ahead of him. What did he think I was going to do, make a break for it? I wasn't insane. I knew for a fact that Pete was faster than he looked, and he could squash me like a bug if he wanted to.
He escorted me to a door near the bar and opened it to usher me in ahead of him into a hallway. I walked down the hall with Pete a close shadow behind me. It almost felt like I was being walked to my execution, and I suddenly had a really bad feeling about all this.
When we reached Rex's office door, I rushed forward and pettily made sure to grab the knob first before Pete the gorilla could do it for me. Yeah, I was getting annoyed now since I still didn't know what any of this was about. As a P.I., I hated being left in the dark. It was my job to know shit. It didn't remain a mystery for long though.
I opened the door and walked in only to freeze just inside the doorway. Rex was sitting behind his desk with a grim expression in his usual gray suit with his perfectly trimmed graying hair and matching full beard. And sitting there in a chair in front of him and sobbing pathetically was Bree. You know that really bad feeling I had a moment ago? Well, it was now sickening dread.
"Have a seat, Scott," Rex said evenly as he motioned to the empty chair in front of his desk next to Bree's.
I ground my teeth together and went to sit down, keeping my eyes pinned to Bree with a hard glare, daring her to look at me. She just kept staring at her clasped hands in her lap as she continued weeping. I shook my head and met Rex's gaze. He was pressing his lips together with a pained look in his whiskey brown eyes. Pete stepped into the room and closed the door. I could feel him looming behind me.
"What's going on here, Rex?" I asked defensively, even though I was pretty sure I already knew.
"Bree here is accusing you of purposefully ignoring her safeword, and physically abusing her tonight." His voice was stern, his eyes grave.
What? My mouth fell open in disbelief at the confirmation of what I suspected. I guess I'd hoped I was wrong.
"That's not true, sir," I immediately replied, my tone vehement and firm as I caught and held Rex's eyes unwaveringly. He knew me, knew I was an honest man with integrity who would never harm a woman. Plus, I'd never broken a single rule here at the club, ever.
"See?" Bree said pitifully to Rex. "I told you he would deny it."
I turned wide disbelieving eyes on Bree, and she still wouldn't look at me as she sniffled a few times for effect. You gotta be fucking kidding me. This is how she repaid my trust, by calling me a liar and throwing me under the bus? I wasn't gonna lie, the betrayal stung.
"These accusations are complete bullshit, and you know it, Bree," I growled out fiercely as I glared at her. "Why are you doing this? Why?"
Now she finally turned to meet my gaze as big fat crocodile tears welled up in her eyes to slither down her cheeks. "You're sick and you need help, Scott," she said waveringly. "But I won't let you hurt me or anyone else ever again." She breathed a deep shuddering breath and continued, turning her pathetic show on Rex again. "I...I wanted to explore my sexuality in a safe place with someone I could trust, but now," -she sobbed a few times- "but now it's all ruined, and I can never set foot in here again without remembering tonight." She hunched forward and shook with more sobs while I watched her incredulously.
I couldn't help myself at that point and instantly burst into laughter that had a hard and unmistakable bitter edge to it. She glanced up to give me a baleful stare. Bree was going to learn right now that she was fucking with the wrong guy.
"I'll give you this much credit, Bree," I said snidely with a sneering grin. "You are damn good. You almost had me going there for a minute." I shared a quick smirk with Rex and Pete. "Do you believe this bullshit?" -I threw a thumb toward her- "This bitch is crazy." I looked at her again. She'd stopped crying completely now and looked enraged, her eyes wild and full of absolute fury. It was time to go in for the kill. I snorted out a laugh. "Uh, oh, looks like you broke character, babe. Where are the waterworks now, huh?"
Suddenly, Bree let out an earsplitting shriek of rage and launched herself out of her chair at me. Holy shit! I was trying to get enough of a rise out of her to get her to show her true colors, not have her all-out attack me. I jerked away and raised my hands to fend her off, but before Bree even had a chance to touch me, Pete had lunged forward and already plucked her up like she weighed nothing.
He brought her in close to his chest and wrapped his massive arms around her upper body in a bear hug, restraining her arms at her sides and lifting her up in the air to keep her from hurting herself or anyone else. She was left dangled from his arms, kicking and screaming as she struggled against his grip to no avail. Bree might as well have been fighting a giant fucking oak tree. Without a word, I rose and went to open the door, letting Pete out of the office to take care of our little actress. Good riddance.
I shut the door as I shook my head and snorted. "Can you believe that shit?" I said with a flabbergasted expression as I turned back to look at Rex again, whose face was apologetic. "Seriously, what the fuck?" I started to feel pissed off. It took a lot to make me truly angry, but lies and betrayals of trust were a huge trigger for me. "How the fuck did that crazy bitch get in here in the first place?" I shook my head in disgust, the fury getting stronger as I lashed out. "Will you let anyone join now? What happened to a simple fucking background check, Rex?"
Rex's eyes hardened as he stood. "We routinely do them, Scott," he said tightly, "but you know they aren't foolproof, and I don't appreciate you speaking to me like that."
"I don't appreciate some crazy nutjob that you let in here accusing me of sexual assault after I fucking trusted her!" I was on a roll now and getting angrier by the second.
"Calm down, Scott," Rex said sternly with an angry glare.
"No," I snarled back at him. "I will not calm down. This is fucked up, and you know it. Calling me back to your goddamn office like some middle school bully who needs reprimanded was fucked up."
"Scott," Rex snapped out fiercely. "You know I have to take any allegation of abuse here seriously."
"But it was me," I growled out and jabbed a finger into my chest. "You know me, Rex. You shouldn't have doubted me for a second."
He shook his head with a confused expression now. "I didn't doubt you."
"Then why the dog and pony show?" I asked furiously. "Why not just kick her ass to the curb and revoke her membership? Why treat me like a fucking suspect if you didn't doubt me?"
"There are protocols that I have to fol-"
"Fuck protocols," I cut him off vehemently. "I-"
"That's enough!" Rex practically roared as he pounded a fist down on his desk. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Rex was a Dom. He was so calm and soft spoken most of the time, until you crossed him. He took a calming breath as his hard gaze pinned me in place, his eyes fierce and intimidating. "I know you're angry and upset over this, but I will not tolerate your disrespect anymore tonight. I think it's best if you leave now and take a hiatus from the club for a while too."
"You're kicking me out of the club?" I asked incredulously. "I was the victim here, and you're kicking me out?"
"You know that's not what I said." His voice was calm and measured now, and irked me off. "You need to step away for some perspective, and come back when you're in a calmer state of mind."
"That's a great idea, Rex," I bit out caustically. "But I already have some perspective for you. If you can't trust anyone here and your own friend who owns the place doesn't trust you either, then what's the fucking point." I shook my head in disgust and turned toward the door. "I'm outta here."
Fuck this place. Fuck BDSM. Fuck it all. Without trust, this place was a joke anyway. I whipped open the door and surged into the hallway, ignoring Rex's concerned voice calling after me as I stalked out of the club without a single backward glance.
************
CHAPTER
ONE
____________________
Lu
"Alright, chica," I told my reflection in the mirror in an annoyed tone. "It's just a blind date. It won't kill you."
Although, it might kill my date if he kept irritating the shit out of me. I did have my service weapon on me after all. I never left the house without it. A cop could never be too careful. A detective on the vice squad to be precise, and I damn good one if you asked me.
I plopped my bag on the counter next to the sink in the women's restroom I was in, and rooted around in the dark interior of the huge thing until I found my brush. I ran it quickly through my long dark hair. I'd taken the time to straighten out my usual loose waves for tonight. When I finished, it hung in a silky curtain, smooth and sleek and halfway down my back. I dug out my lipstick to reapply it, and my dark umber eyeliner for a quick touch up, then studied myself critically. My big dark-brown eyes popped, and the nude lip color looked good with my caramel complexion. I nodded in satisfaction. If all else failed, at least I looked damn good for this nightmare.
I didn't really need any of the primping since the guy waiting for me out in the restaurant wasn't worth it, but I'd needed a breather from his egotistical rambling. Now I needed to get back to the dipshit, so I shoved everything back into my purse with a beleaguered sigh. I smoothed the layered T-shirts I was wearing under my short black leather jacket. Then I patted my holstered Glock 19 for reassurance where it was tucked under the waistband of my dark jeans, and out of sight at the small of my back. I met my date straight from work and didn't have time to change into anything nicer, but he didn't seem to mind. All he kept doing was staring at my ass and boobs anyway. I rolled my eyes, then hefted my bag onto my shoulder and went back out to the dining room, my knee-high black heeled boots thumping across the floor with my purposeful strides.
I'll give the guy this much credit. I approved of the restaurant he'd chosen. It was one of the best in town and had excellent food. The Glass House had a beautiful and elegant interior with lots of dark wood and burnished steel accents that gleamed in the low romantic lighting of the hand-blown glass pendant lights that hung above each table. Our table was along a massive glass window that stretched across one side of the room. It was pitch black out there at the moment, but I knew there was a pond and garden out there that would be gorgeous when spring finally hit its stride. It was still March though with spring having only arrived several days ago. I suspected it was a muddy quagmire out there like everything else was right now from all the melted snow.
I didn't even bother plastering on a smile as I crossed the main dining room toward Jaxon. That's right his name was Jaxon, with and "X". Whatever the hell happened to spelling a name like it was meant to be instead of bastardizing it just to be different? Okay, so maybe I was being too harsh. Maybe I would've been okay with his name if he hadn't already proven himself to be a self-aggrandizing douchebag.
Right now, he was smiling at my approach with his eyes firmly planted on my tits. I wondered how long I had before he started talking about himself again. He hadn't shown any apparent interest in anything I had to say so far. I didn't even hide my sigh as I sat across from him. He was handsome enough I suppose with his overly-styled short dark hair and dark-blue eyes, but he had a little too much of a pretty-boy thing going on for my tastes. That, along with his preppy designer clothes, and I had no idea why my sister Amelia thought we'd be a good match.
"There you are," he said in a slightly patronizing tone that had me gritting my teeth.
"Here I am," I said. I gave him a tight smile as I hung my bag on the back of my chair. I reached for my fork to take a few more bites of my salmon.
"Did I tell you about the consulting gig I had in Las Vegas a few months back?" he asked. Well, that answered that. It only took Jaxon about ten seconds to talk about himself again. Fuck my life.
"No, but I bet you're going to," replied with a snarky edge that he was completely oblivious to.
I finished my meal while he proceeded to prattle on about his stupid trip, and the VIP treatment that his company afforded him. He seemed to think it would impress me. It would impress me more if he could manage to keep his mouth shut long enough to finish his steak, so we could end this farce. I was just about to shove a bread stick in his mouth when the waitress came up to ask if we'd like dessert menus.
"No thanks," I answered her before Jaxon had a chance to say anything. I'll be damn if I let this nightmare, I mean date, drag on any longer. "We'll just take the check now please." After she nodded and walked away I turned my attention back to Jaxon. He was smirking suggestively at me now. Ew.
"I see you're in a hurry to move on to the next part of the evening," he said in a smarmy way that set me on edge. "What do you say we do that at my place?" Presumptuous asshole.
"You know what, Jaxon?" I said as politely as I could manage, but I suspected I sounded annoyed anyway. "I've had a really long day, and I'm going to call it a night and head home...alone." I added that last word for emphasis and clarification. Sometimes you had to spell it out to a dipshit ego-maniac like Jaxon here.
I noticed his eyes harden almost imperceptibly, and his hand tightened slightly around his fork. I'd angered him. Boo-fucking-hoo. You didn't get to be a detective at the relatively young age of thirty-two without knowing how to read people. I hardened my own gaze and gave him a smile that didn't touch my eyes.
"Come on, sweetheart," he said in a patronizing tone, his endearment pissing me off. "You know you're not ready to call it a night already."
He reached out to place his hand on mine on the table. He wrapped his fingers around my wrist and squeezed with just enough pressure to be threatening without actually hurting me. I reached up with my other hand and placed it on his, then glided it slowly up toward his elbow. His eyes grew smug and lustful.
"Sweetheart," I said in a saccharine tone as my smile turned predatory. I found the pressure point on the inside of his arm just above his elbow. "Don't touch me," I growled out as I rubbed my thumb into it with firm pressure.
He instantly winced and let go of me, jerking his arm away to rub at the nerve I'd just abused as he glowered at me. I pushed my chair back and stood as I grabbed my bag.
"Thanks for a lovely evening and the scintillating company." Oops, my sarcasm was showing.
Jaxon's glower deepened, and his face began to redden as his mouth hung open, apparently too pissed off to utter a word now. Huh, I figured out how to shut him up. Who'd have thought that was possible? I wish I'd done it sooner.
"Adios, Jaxon," I said with a smirk as I swung my bag up onto my shoulder, then spun on my three-inch heels and strolled away with an eye roll. It was time for my second date tonight, one with my bathtub, a glass of red wine, and my vibrator. Anything was better than spending time with that pendejo.
I walked outside and headed to the far end of the parking lot, where I parked my baby to keep her safe from any morons that might open their door into her. I'd only had my two-year-old dark-gray Dodge Challenger for a few weeks now, and I'd saved my money for a long time to afford her. I'd be damned if I took a chance of anyone hurting her. I was a few yards away from my car when my phone began ringing inside my bag. I paused just long enough to dig it out. I saw it was my little sister and answered the call.
"Hola hermana," I greeted her with a wry grin as I continued heading toward my vehicle. "If you called to check on my date, it was an epic disaster."
"Lu?" came Amelia's wavering response. I could tell immediately from that one syllable that she'd been crying and that something was terribly wrong.
"What's wrong, Amelia?"
"It...it's Tasha," she sobbed out. "She...she's dead."
"What?" I blurted out sharply because I couldn't have possibly heard that right. Tasha was my sister's best friend.
"She was...she was murdered!" Amelia wailed out.
I jerked to a stop near the front of my car in stunned silence. Amelia's harsh sobs managed to break me out of it a moment later.
"Where are you?" I asked firmly.
"T...Tasha's apartment," she answered. "I...I...I found her." Her sobs grew louder, more hysterical. I had to rein her in so she could talk to me.
"Did you call the police, mija?" I asked gently.
"Yeah."
"Are you inside the apartment?"
"Uh, huh."
"Okay," I said in as calm a voice as I could muster even though I was freaking out right now. "Did you touch anything in Tasha's apartment?"
"I...I don't know," she whimpered out. "Maybe?"
"Shh, it's okay," I soothed her. "Don't touch anything else, and go stand outside the door to wait for the police. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Please hurry, Luisa," Amelia begged softly.
"I will, mija," I assured her. "I will."
I ended the call and began frantically rooting around in my purse for my keys while I freaked out inside. I couldn't believe this was happening, that Tasha was gone. Amelia had been best friends with her since they were little. My little sister would be devastated by this, and poor Tasha's family would take it even worse.
I still hadn't found my key fob a few moments later. "Motherfucker," I growled out. I really needed to organize my fucking bag. I dug in deeper for it, distracted by worry for Amelia and completely immersed in what I was doing.
Out of nowhere, an arm suddenly wrapped around my neck from behind and began choking me. I reacted immediately, dropping my bag and grabbing the muscular forearm pressing against my throat with both hands. I bent forward hard, loosening his grip enough so I could breath. I stomped my boot heel down on his foot twice, then slammed my left fist into his groin three times in quick brutal succession. I followed that up with an elbow jab right into his gut.
My attacker grunted out in pain and doubled over. I swiftly grabbed his forearm again and bent down as I stepped backwards, pulling my head out of the choke hold. I cranked his arm up painfully behind his back as I brought my leg up to kick him in the face. Then I shoved him hard face-first into the front bumper of my car with a satisfying thump.
A second later, I had my Glock out and pointed at the groaning piece of shit that had fucked with me. The guy rolled to sit up on the ground with his hands held protectively over his crotch, and froze when he looked up to find my pistol pointed at his face. Son of a bitch. It was my dipshit blind date, Jaxon.
"You little shit," I snarled at him, delighted to see blood dripping from his nose and fear in his eyes as he ogled the weapon right in front of his face.
"You...you hit me," he said incredulously, like he couldn't believe he'd just had his ass handed to him by a five-foot-two Latina.
"I did," I said with a smirk. "And you just assaulted a police officer."
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "What?" he asked in surprise as stark terror flooded his now wide eyes. If the fucker had bothered to let me talk at all tonight, he'd already know I was a cop.
"That's right dipshit, and I believe that's a felony," I adjusted my grip on my weapon and moved closer with narrowed eyes. "So is sexual assault," I added in a low growl.
He stared cross-eyed at the gun that was practically touching his nose now. It was almost comical. "I...I didn't...I...I wasn't-"
"Bullshit," I shot back. "What, were you just trying to choke me out for shits and giggles then?"
"I...I..." he stuttered out like an imbecile.
I huffed out an annoyed and exasperated sigh. I didn't have time for this shit. Amelia needed me. "Well, it's your lucky day, Jaxon," I said irritably. "I don't have time to arrest your sorry ass right now, so get the fuck out of here before I change my mind."
"What?" he asked, his mouth gaping like a fish.
"Get your sorry ass up and leave," I reiterated condescendingly. "And if you ever fuck with me again, I'll put a bullet in your dick."
That finally got through to him, and he swiftly got to his feet. I heard him mumble something about me being a crazy bitch beneath his breath just before he limped hurriedly away across the parking lot.
"That's right, asshole!" I called out after him as I tucked my gun back into its holster. Then I snatched up my bag off the ground, found my keys at the very bottom of it, and unlocked my baby. I climbed in, and a few moments later I was pounding my foot down on the accelerator and roaring out of the parking lot to get to my baby sister.