The Tattoo Artist's Mate
“Get her the fuck out of here now.”
His men swung into action, and Gabe vented his frustration on the asshole by beating the shit out of him. By the time he was done the fucker was a bleeding, unmoving mess on his floor, and Gabe flexed his bruised knuckles.
“Go and dump him in an alley somewhere, boys.” Without waiting to see if his instructions were followed, he turned and stalked back up to his office. Every instinct in him screamed at him to go after Lissandra, but if he went near her now, he would be utterly incapable of being gentle, and the girl had been through enough for one day. He wasn’t a complete asshole, and he wouldn’t force himself on her. Gabe had never forced a woman in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.
Besides, none of this made sense. That fucker Andrini was up to something. He could have easily sold her off to Ollivanti. The crime lord’s territory bordered on Gabe’s with the Thames separating their businesses. The mere thought of Lissandra in the cruel hands of that bastard made Gabe see red again, as he pushed open the door to his office, and shed his dirty clothes on the way to the adjacent bathroom. He held his hands under the cold tap and stared at his reflection as the water washed away the foul stench of his enemy.
Fuck it, he needed to kill, or fuck.
He turned off the water, stalked over to his desk, and picked up the phone.
“Find Ange and bring her up here, will you. I don’t fucking care if her shift is over.”
He slammed the phone down and adjusted his still-hard dick away from his zipper. Ange would take care of that, and once he could think straight, he’d come up with a plan.
One thing was certain. Lissandra was his responsibility now. Scowling, he picked up the phone again and hit the speed dial to his housekeeper.
Mavis had worked for him for as long as he could remember and was loyal to a fault.
“Yes, Gabe, what’s the problem?”
“No problem, more of a situation. The boys are dropping off Andrini’s daughter.” He smiled grimly at the sharp intake of breath down the line. “Make her feel welcome, will you? She’ll need clothes and all that feminine crap. Can you sort that, please?”
“Right, she’s staying then? How long?”
“For the foreseeable future.”
End of sample chapter