voice wasn’t annoying as fuck. Pathetic as only a man could really be. Why wasn’t there a word for man hurt? Mansick didn’t quite apply.
I went to my bedroom, grabbing a pair of Patrick’s boxers off the top of the open box of his that sat and waited for him to take back.
It wasn’t like I could gag the dude with my own underwear.
I stepped up to his head, pinching his bloody nose until he mouth-breathed all over me like the nasty thing he was. Shoving the boxers into his rancid face hole, I stepped back and fought the gag that pinched my throat.
I’d washed the boxers before shoving them in the box.
Shame.
Matteo’s knock on my door was anything but subtle, and I stepped over to let in the Bellandi brigade. Ivory’s body collided with mine in a rush, propelling me back into the room so quickly that I almost fell on my ass. “Woah,” I laughed. “I told you, I’m fine.”
“You were attacked!” she hissed, pulling back to look at me. Her brow furrowed. “Weren’t you?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, watching as the men stepped in. Matteo and Ryker led the charge, with Scar and Simon hot on their heels. Two more followed them, seeming vaguely familiar from my time spent around the Bellandi Estate, and my small apartment felt microscopic as it filled with too-large male bodies that didn’t belong in my space.
Matteo gave me a quick glance over, seeming to determine I was safe enough and unharmed despite the circumstance that brought him to my personal haven for the first time. “What’s that in his mouth?” he asked, bending down to inspect the dude with the twitchy eyeballs. He’d wake up soon enough.
“Patrick’s boxers,” I said. The other men in the room huffed out a laugh in perfect unison, no doubt amused by my choice of gag.
“You good, Short Stuff?” Ryker asked, his blue eyes studying my face and looking for a sign of weakness he wouldn’t find. Simon paced around the main living area, studying everything in that observant way any decent bodyguard had. Scar tested the lock on the door, leaning down to examine the doorknob before he straightened and closed it behind him.
“I’m good, Meatball. Assuming you guys are going to clean up the blood. It just does not go well with my color palette.” I waved a hand dismissively, disguising the genuine concern I felt over the stains. The Bellandis didn’t need to know.
Ryker laughed. “Yeah, she’s good. Got anything?” His attention shifted to Scar as quickly as it had settled on me.
“Picked the lock,” Scar confirmed. “Scuff marks and dents around the keyhole on the outside. Minor though, so our guy knew what he was doing.”
Stepping over to the body, Ryker hauled him up into his arms and slung him over his shoulder. It seemed the stalker was in a hurry to get back to the warehouse and get his interrogation underway.
“Did he say anything to you before you bashed his head in?” Scar asked, and I watched the gears turn in his deep brown eyes.
“Just that he was going to bring me back to Murphy black and blue. We didn’t exactly sit down and have a tea party with crumpets.” Scar leveled me with a glare that probably made weak men shiver in their boots.
But I was no man, and I definitely wasn’t weak.
Matteo cleared his throat, pressing his lips together to hide the quirk of a smile that threatened to consume him. Scar shifted his attention back to his boss as he spoke, listening intently for anything that might affect his ability to do his job. Protecting my best friend, who happened to be Matteo’s wife, from certain death at the hand of their enemies. “This is Bryan. He’s going to keep an eye on you from now on until things settle down and we have a better idea of where we stand. You shouldn’t have been Murphy’s first real move against us,” Matteo said. He scratched the stubble on his cheek thoughtfully, shaking his head in annoyance before coming over to wrap Ivory in his arms. “For what it’s worth, I wish we’d seen it coming and had you protected. We won’t make that mistake again.”
“I’m out!” Ryker called as he stepped into the hallway.
The man had a brain. If only Matteo had been that smart.
“Um, fuck no?” I asked, glancing at Ivory. Had she lost her ever-loving mind that she thought I’d be okay with a babysitter?
“Ivory wants you to