The Ritual

“No …” I trail off, trying to get my brain to put all the pieces together. It had to have been the guy with the tattoo on the back of his neck. I never saw his face that night here at the bar with Sarah, but it makes sense.

He nods, arguing with me. “Matt sent him when Ashley was tired of watching you. He knew where you were. Maybe he didn’t care to go get you at the time. He wanted to sit back and watch what I did when you left. It was more about me at that point rather than you.”

“But … we just found out …” I trail off at the look on his blank face. He already fucking knew all of this but wanted Ashley to confess in front of the Lords, giving him the reason he needed to kill her. “I can’t believe this.”

“Which part exactly?”

“All of it,” I snap, glaring up at him through my lashes. “God, Ryat, how many secrets are you keeping from me?”

“I don’t keep count,” he states, his green eyes on mine.

“Is this a joke to you?” I demand, throwing the covers off me and getting out of bed.

“No. I take anything regarding you pretty fucking seriously,” he answers, pushing away from the dresser.

I walk over to him, glaring up at him. “What else do you have to tell me at the moment?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re fucking lying to me.”

He lowers his face to mine, a smile tugging at his lips, and says, “Prove it.”

I go to slap him, but he catches my wrist with one hand and wraps the other around my throat, pushing my back into the nearest wall. “Want to give that another try, Blake?”

“Fuck you, Ryat,” I growl.

When he lets go of my wrist, my arm drops to my side as he steps into me, his nose touching the tip of mine. “Don’t mind if I do …” His hands slide up my bare hips to my ribs. “I can never get enough of you,” he growls, his voice rough.

My heart starts beating faster at his words, but I’m still pissed at him, so I say, “Good. Because you’re stuck with me until you die.”

Tilting his head up just a bit, he lightly kisses the tip of my nose. “That’s all I want.”

“Aren’t you the romantic?” I say, trying to keep my breath steady. Not wanting to show him that my thighs are tightening as we speak. All that’s separating us is his towel. I’m already naked.

“Blake, I’ll be anything you need.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

RYAT

ME AND GUNNER step down into the basement at Blackout. Ty gave us the green light to use it and Gunner pointed out the two men who were hitting on our girls. Now they lay on the concrete floor, bloody noses and all.

“Thanks, gentlemen.” I nod to the two security guards who wear Blackout shirts. “We’ve got it from here.”

They both nod and exit the room, walking up the stairs, leaving us alone.

“What the fuck, man?” One of the guys asks, getting to his knees. He reaches up, smearing the blood on his face.

“Fffuuccckk,” the other groans, rolling onto his back.

“Like touching things that don’t belong to you?” I ask, arching a brow.

“What are you talking about?” The one on his knees gets to his feet.

“The two women you were hitting on at the bar.” I jog their memory, since I know the bouncers fucked them up a bit before bringing them down here. “The ones who you wouldn’t take no for an answer from.”

The guy snorts. “Fuck those whores …”

My fist connects with his face, snapping his head back. He stumbles over the other guy lying down, making him fall back to the floor.

“Those whores belong to us,” Gunner states, leaning up against the wall casually. “And no, we’re not sharing them with you.”

I’m not in the mood to get bloody tonight. Especially since Blake will notice once I make my presence known. So, I walk over to the back wall and remove the chain from the hook. Making my way to the guy who I punched, I wrap it around his neck a few times and then drag him to the wall, yanking him to his feet.

“What the fuck?” The other guy on the floor growls, getting to his feet, watching his friend struggle while I wrap the chain around a hook on the wall. I yank on it, pulling his feet up off the floor. “What the fuck are you doing?” The guy goes to charge me, but Gunner pushes off the wall and knocks him back to the floor.

“Where is your friend?” Gunner questions.

“Who?” he snaps. “You’re fucking …”

Gunner kicks him in the face, blood goes flying from his mouth. “There were three of you at the bar.”

“Fuck … you …”

Gunner stomps on his hand, making him cry out.