Turner—all six-foot-two of him—stands casually by the driver’s door, his arms propped on the roof of his car. His straight black hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and he’s wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. He looks like a hitman.
“Why haven’t you been answering your phone, Ian?” His deep voice sends a shudder through me.
My heart slams into my ribs, sending me immediately into fight-or-flight mode.
Unwelcome memories of dancing with Brad at Diego’s nightclub come rushing back. Against Tyler’s wishes, I’d insisted on trying to play amateur detective to find out who might have killed my friend Eric. I figured Brad had to be a suspect because he was dating Eric at the time. As it turned out, he wasn’t the murderer, but he’s certainly no angel.
He wants the same thing from me that he had with Eric—a sadistic, twisted sexual relationship. He wants me to be his new whipping boy.
I shoot to my feet on the top step, torn between telling him to get the hell off my property and running back inside and locking the door. I swallow hard. “What are you doing here?”
He rounds the front of his car and walks up the steps to join me. After shoving his sunglasses onto the top of his head, he glares at me. Now I can see the faint purple shadows beneath his eyes and the yellowed remnants of bruises on his cheekbones. These marks are undoubtedly remnants of the beating Tyler gave Brad when he choked me at Sapphires.
Brad’s gaze narrows on me. “You didn’t answer me, Ian. Why haven’t you replied to any of my messages?”
As he reaches for my hand, I pull it back, shoving it into my pocket. “I have nothing to say to you.” My voice shakes. “I think you said enough for both of us when you tried to strangle me.”
He rolls his eyes. “You are such a drama queen. That was nothing, Ian. Choking can be rather enjoyable if you’re with someone who knows what he’s doing. I don’t suppose your cop chokes you. Or maybe he gets off cuffing you to the bed. A little rough play, maybe?”
“You leave Tyler out of this.”
Brad’s eyes narrow. “That’s not going to happen. After your boyfriend assaulted me that night at Sapphires, I spent four days in the hospital.” Brad points to his head. “He cracked my fucking skull, Ian. You think I won’t make him pay for that?”
“Because you were choking me!”
The smile on Brad’s face is chilling. “Eric liked it when I choked him. You will, too. I guarantee it.”
“Don’t talk to me about Eric.”
“Why not?”
“Because you got him killed.”
Brad scoffs. “Hell, I’m not responsible for what Roy did. Roy became unhinged. He let jealousy drive him mad, and he paid the price for his actions. All I want from you is sex, pure and simple. You’re going to let me—”
“In your dreams.”
He purses his lips as if contemplating my answer. “Here’s the deal, Ian. Let me spell it out for you so there’s no misunderstanding. You’re going to let me fuck you on your yacht. You’re going to submit to me—to my every whim—until I say I’m done with you. Then we’ll call it even. If you’re a real good boy and beg me nicely, I won’t press charges against your boyfriend. How’s that?”
My pulse is pounding so hard I can hear the blood rushing. “He was just protecting me.”
“No, he was out of line. I should have called the cops on him that night and had him arrested. I would have if I’d been thinking clearly and didn’t have a concussion. You’re the only one who can save him from getting sent to prison. Surely you know what happens to cops in there.”
“He’s not a criminal.”
“Bullshit, Ian. He’s guilty of assault and battery, and I have plenty of video evidence and eyewitnesses, not to mention the two club security guards who pulled your boyfriend off me. I’ve already talked to an attorney, and because of the severity of my injuries, he’d likely be charged with aggravated battery. That’s a felony in this state, which means he’d get a mandatory prison sentence. He wouldn’t be able to sweet-talk his way out of serving time.”
The idea of Tyler going to prison makes me sick. I shake my head. “You can’t do this. He was only—”
“The law is the law, Ian. I have video evidence on my side, and he doesn’t. It’s that simple. Any jury in America would convict him based