without taking my eyes off Watson bleeding all over the floor. “Come here.” I feel her hand lay in mine, and I pull her toward me, positioning her in front of my body, facing Watson. Sliding my hands under her armpits, I hold the gun in front of her.
“What are you doing?” Watson tries to scramble to his feet, but his knee fails him, sending him back to the carpet in a heap.
“Danny?” Brad’s tone is warning. And ignored.
“Take the gun,” I order Rose, claiming one of her hands and placing it on the Glock. Her other hand comes up with no instruction from me, both her small hands holding the gun, her arms braced. I direct her aim, getting it as close as I can without holding the gun myself. Then I release her, placing my hands on her hips. I bend and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Kill him.”
“Danny, for fuck’s sake,” Brad barks.
“Shut the fuck up,” I spit, watching as Watson turns pleading eyes onto every man in the room, looking for someone to save him. “Kill him,” I say again, before kissing her cheek softly. I feel her willowy frame tighten, her finger squeezing. Her jaw is like rock, her tenseness making her shake. She’s terrified. I reach forward and frame her arms with mine, steadying her. “You said no to him, Rose. No means no.”
Bang!
She drops the gun the second she’s fired it, swinging around and hiding in my chest. She can’t watch, but me? I take the greatest pleasure watching Watson’s eye socket explode, Rose’s aim slightly off, missing his forehead. He drops, screaming—the ear-piercing, shrill, painful kind of scream. The death scream. It makes my fucking ears bleed.
Dipping, I pick up the Glock and aim. With Rose held to my chest by one hand splayed across her back, I fire, putting Watson out of his misery and relieving my ears of his irritating cries.
Now, the room is silent, though a thousand words are being spoken through the eyes of my men.
They all know better than to speak those words. I engage the safety on the gun and toss it to Brad. He catches it, and a mild nod of his head tells me he understands. Although I spell it out, just so the others can hear. “When someone says no, they mean no.” I cast my eyes around the room. “I don’t associate with rapists.”
I scoop Rose up and get out of there, passing Esther on my way up the stairs. Her expression is another I’m unfamiliar with. A smile, albeit tiny, but perfectly detectable on her usually impassive face. I give her a nod of assurance. “She’ll need to eat soon,” I tell her.
“Just let me know when.” Esther makes no big deal of my softness, continuing down the stairs. She knew. She knew why Rose was locked in the bathroom.
“Esther,” I call, and she turns back, waiting.
“Thank you.”
Now, she doesn’t hide her smile, nodding again before disappearing into the kitchen. I look down at Rose nestled into my chest. Vulnerability doesn’t suit her, but part of me likes it. Part of me loves the notion that I can protect her. The other part of me hates seeing my little warrior so utterly bared. Because it’s gone. Her shield. Her unassailable strength. Ferocity. Gone.
Carrying on up the stairs, I automatically go to my room, setting her on her feet by my bed. She looks up at me, uncertainty in her eyes. That red dress looks all wrong on her. Reaching back for the zip, I unfasten it, taking the material and sliding it down her body until the dress hits the carpet. Better. So much better. Then I catch sight of a tear in the lace of her knickers. I swallow down my anger before it clouds me, taking her hands and guiding them to my shirt buttons, silently demanding her to unfasten them. She begins without question while I shrug my jacket off and pull my tie free. On the last button, she pushes the tails of my shirt aside and gazes up at me as she lowers her lips to my chest. I look to the ceiling, my hands coming up to my face and dragging down my scratchy cheeks. Lord, have mercy, my skin burns under her lips, the fire spreading over every inch of my flesh. I sink my splayed fingers into her hair and massage her scalp, my whole body relaxing under our contact. Dropping my