Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

When he’s done laying out the spread, he steps back with a wide stance and crosses his arms. He gives me a moment to inspect the merchandise before diving into the pitch. Leon and Ruben hang back at the far end of the table as Mossie goes over each item and explains its function. It’s only when he gets to the technology of remotely controlling the spyware via an app that Leon shows an interest.

Ruben is more enticed with the exhibition that follows after—the automatic rifles and hand grenades. We have a selection of rifles on site, some of them for darting the animals and others for protection, but not the kind of weapons we’ll need for fighting a war. I hope to God it won’t come to that, but Wolfe is a cunning bastard. There’s no paper trail connecting me to the lodge in Zim, but people are people. There will always be someone willing to talk for a price.

“I’ll take everything,” I say when we come to the end of the demo.

Leon and Ruben don’t say a word, but they wear the same look. Accusation. The quiet broodiness in their eyes says if shit blows up and we have to fight a war, it’ll be my fault. No arguments there. I took a risk, and I’d do it again, but our lives may be at stake for the sake of my lust. Neither of them is willing to die just because I wet my dick in the most beautiful woman ever created.

I get that, which is why, when Mossie leaves with a bag full of cash, I say, “If you want to leave, the coast is clear. It should be for a good couple of weeks still.”

Leon spits the word at me. “Leave?”

“You can go to the chalet in Lesotho.” I turn to Ruben. “I know you wanted to spend time with that girl in Mozambique.”

“I’m not running with my tail between my legs when shit’s about to go down,” Leon says.

“Nothing may go down,” I remind him. “The weapons are only a precautionary measure. Best be prepared than not. What’s your decision, Ruben?”

“Nope.” Ruben rolls on the balls of his feet. “I reckon you need us around seeing that you’re not thinking straight and all.”

My tone is even. Cold. “If you want to accuse me of something, say it flat out.”

His lip curls. “You want me to say it? You’re thinking with your dick, man.”

He’s trying to get a reaction out of me, but I don’t bite, because he’s right. I’ve been thinking with nothing but my dick since the moment I laid eyes on Cas. That doesn’t mean I can’t think with my head at the same time.

“I’ve never been thinking clearer,” I say.

He shakes his head. “She’s going to fuck you over, bro.”

“You’re the one who said we have to keep her close.”

“That was before she pulled a gutsy escape stunt. Some chicks will let you boss them around. They’ll clean your house and let you fuck them. I saw what she looks like when you carried her in last night. A girl like that isn’t going to take orders from you. She’s too pretty, too smart. She’s going to use that face and body to leash you like a horny dog and cut your throat when you’re so thick in heat you can’t think.”

I ball my hands into fists. “Don’t make assumptions. You don’t know her.”

“I know enough to know a girl with the brains to trick Walter and the guts to run from him isn’t just going to sit around and look pretty for you.”

Advancing on him, I say, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s a prisoner, bro. That leaves her with two choices. Either she’s going to run or she’s going to off you at the first chance she gets.” He presses a finger against his temple. “That’s thinking things through straight.”

My anger escalates. “Are you done?”

“One of you is going to end up dead. I say let it be her before it’s you.”

I’m in his face before he can blink, my hand wrapped around his neck. “Anyone who lays a finger on her is fucking dead!”

Leon steps between us, grabbing my arm. “Let it go. We have enough trouble on our hands as it is.”

Like fuck I’m letting this go. I squeeze, lifting Ruben off his feet. “Got it?”

His face turns red. He gurgles.

“He said yes,” Leon says, his tone agitated.

I shake him and tighten my fingers for good measure, even if his passive acceptance of the abuse gives me his answer. If it was no, he would’ve fought back.

“Yes,” he croaks.

I drop him.

He stumbles and rubs his throat.

Stabbing a finger on his chest, I say, “As long as I’m the leader of this band, you’ll do as I say. You don’t challenge my orders. You don’t challenge my word, and you sure as hell don’t challenge my abilities. If that doesn’t work for you, you’re free to go.” I face my brother. “You too.”