Broken by His Hand - Piper Stone Page 0,44

were born. Did you know that? You were such a sweet little boy and you made your mother very happy. I watched you grow into a fine young man. While I would have never said this to your father, I was thrilled when you wanted nothing to do with the club. You had a life that made you happy, a fiancée who you adored. You were more of a father to your brothers than Richard had any idea how to be. Now, what do you have but an empty house and a full bank account? Whether or not you believe it, I always felt like you were the son I never had. Seeing what you’ve become puts a hole in my heart. I really hope you can find happiness at some point. I don’t want you to end up like your father.”

I heard the front door closing and slammed my hands on the desk. What I didn’t need was a reminder of the past. The life I’d loved was gone and nothing and no one could ever bring it back. I took several deep breaths, my pulse racing. Then I closed my eyes, trying to push away the ugly memories, forsaking everything I’d worked for in order to become the surrogate father all over again. I’d stepped up to the plate just like my father had wanted. I’d taken care of my brothers, making sure they would live as they chose.

I’d simply lost everything else in the process.

When I heard the sound of the doorbell, I snarled, taking long strides toward the entrance. What the fuck did William want now? As I threw open the door, the sight of another plain brown box raised my hackles.

“Mr. Dunmore?” the uniformed young man asked as he glanced down at his scanner. “A delivery for you.”

“From whom?” I barked.

“From a... John Smith. Will you sign here?”

John Smith.

Fascinating.

I did as requested, taking the box into my hands. The damn thing was identical to the last one, even close to the same weight. While my address was certainly no secret, the fact the asshole had sent something my house was a statement. The bastard could find me anywhere. Damn it.

Every cell in my body was on fire, my pulse quickening as I took the package into my office, easing it down gently. A cold chill had almost suffocated the rage, keeping my fingers stiff as I attempted to open the package. This time, the content was wrapped in bright red tissue paper. As soon as my hand wrapped around it, I knew exactly what had been sent to me.

A collar.

A fucking studded collar.

And the note was written in the same crimson calligraphy as the previous package.

In case your pet misbehaves...

I clamped my hand around the leather piece, enjoying the pain as the studs dug into my hand. I grabbed my phone, immediately dialing Gregory. It was time to bring my brothers in on my suspicions. This thing was going to escalate.

“All three of us need to talk.” I heard the tension in my voice and huffed.

“What happened? The meeting with the attorney didn’t go well?” Gregory asked.

“As expected. However, there was another delivery.”

“Shit. When do you want to meet?”

“One hour.”

“Done. I’ll contact Christopher.”

I ended the call, holding the phone to my head for a few seconds. My gut told me that whoever was responsible was hiding in plain sight, which could mean he’d witnessed the interaction with Sophia. I dialed her number, hoping to catch her. When the call went directly to voicemail, it meant she’d turned off her phone. Given the time, she could certainly be at the hospital. “Sophia. When you get this, please give me a call. I’d like to speak with you.” Just hearing her voice was arousing enough.

Thinking about everything I’d like to do to her forced my balls to tighten.

I dropped the phone on my desk, glaring down at the collar. While I should feel nothing but anger, instead all I could think about was placing a collar around Sophia’s neck. I fisted my hand, my thoughts turning vile and sadistic. The limited taste of her hadn’t been enough. I was ready for much more.

And the beautiful woman wouldn’t have the option of objecting.

I was also going to protect her, no matter how difficult the circumstances. Shifting around my desk, I opened the bottom drawer, pulling out the Glock 19 I’d purchased not long after my parents’ death.

After adding the clip of ammunition, I eased it under my waistband.