he growled.
Breathe. He just had to keep breathing through it. He just had to breathe, in and out, until Frankie finally ended it.
“ TALK!” Frankie roared and twisted further.
Pain hurtled up his groin and exploded into his stomach. He couldn’t talk now, even if he’d wanted to.
Breathe.
Just fucking breathe.
BREATHE, DAMN IT. BREATHE.
“ Yo, Frankie!” a loud voice bellowed.
Frankie released him and his trembling body went lax. Gagging, he turned his head and released a stomach full of spit, piss, and bile.
“ What?” Frankie growled.
“ Eva’s blowin’ up my fuckin’ phone, brother.”
Ripper heard Frankie jump to his feet, heard his heavy booted steps crossing the floor, heard a door creak open, then slam shut.
It took a moment to realize that he was alone.
Alone…
He had two choices. He could keep lying there, naked and bleeding out on the ground and wait to die, or he could try.
He couldn’t let it end like this.
He couldn’t die a high school dropout, a criminal who’d never done shit with his life, with no woman or kids to care if he’d gone.
He had to try.
Dry heaving, tears streaming down his cheeks, he struggled to roll to his side. Sucking air in through his teeth and breathing out hard, labored breaths, he folded his body in half.
Breathe.
Just fucking breathe.
Gritting his teeth through the blinding pain, he reached down his body with his bound wrists…
His fingertips brushed against the rope on his ankles.
With a heave and a shout of pain, with every ounce of energy he had, he stretched his body just a little more and grabbed hold of the knot.
Yeah. The last time he’d given a fuck about anything was when he’d thought he was going to die at the hands of a crazy motherfucker. After that, he’d become consumed with what hadn’t happened, so much so, he’d started wishing it had.
Until now.
Until he’d accidentally fucked a little blonde bitch with the face of an angel and a body built to drive a man crazy. Danny was every man’s wet dream; an honest-to-god good, sweet, girl who was drop-dead gorgeous and fucked like a whore.
If she were anybody else, anybody else’s daughter, he’d have spent a week straight up inside of her, fucking her half to death, splitting her down the middle, taking what he wanted. And fuck him, he wanted.
He wanted.
But she wasn’t anyone else’s daughter. She was Deuce’s daughter, and every bit as lethal to him as Frankie had been.
• • •
Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, I glared at Anabeth. “That was a terrible plan.”
She waved me off. “Oh, please, he was staring at you the entire time. If your dad hadn’t gone ballistic, Danny, I guarantee you’d be bent over his motorcycle right now.”
Right. Instead I’d gotten yelled at by my father in front of everyone and was now even more embarrassed then I had been. Actually, I was pretty sure this was the most embarrassed I’d ever been in my entire life.
“Oh. My. God.” Ellie shut my bedroom door behind her and leaned back against it.
“What’s wrong with you?” Anabeth asked.
“Some guy whose name is Dirty , and may I just say kudos to his parents for aptly naming him, just asked me to blow him. Ordered me, actually.”
“Did you?” Anabeth asked.
“You did not just ask me that!”
“Yes, Miss Prude, I did.”
“Um, ew. He really is dirty.”
Anabeth snorted. “Are you actually upset? So he hit on you, so what?”
Ellie crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure that ‘ Bitch, get the fuck on your knees and suck me ’ should be considered being hit on. I believe I was demeaned to the least common denominator possible.”
“You liked it,” Anabeth scoffed.
“You know what I liked?” Ellie yelled, her eyes bugging out. “I liked it when Cage told me I’m a better fuck than you!”
My mouth fell open, Anabeth let out a banshee-worthy screech, and Ellie ducked as a pillow went flying across the room.
“You slut!” Anabeth
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