A Sweet Man - Jaime Reese Page 0,142

hell wasn’t weak against anyone else. Especially not this son of a bitch who thought he had a chance of taking him away from his Ben.

With swollen eyes, he peered up at Rafe. Even with the blurry vision, he could see the vengeance and rage staring back at him as Rafe took a step closer. Bull glanced at the man standing at the back wall, then returned his gaze to Rafe.

“You think you will escape this? The only way to escape this is by dying. Fight me.”

He remained silent.

“After I kill you, I’m going to kill your sister.”

Bull’s pulse sped at the threat, but he refused to give this prick the reaction he wanted.

“Maybe I’ll destroy her little bakery store while she’s there.”

Bull tried controlling the anger threatening to boil over.

“Fight back, you bastard!” Rafe took another step closer, pushing his words through his gritted teeth. “Maybe during the day. While Ben is working. A fire would end it all. Those commercial ovens can be tricky at times.” Another step closer, close enough Bull could feel the heat of Rafe’s breath against his swollen face as he spoke. “I want you dead. Suffering until you beg me to kill you. You can die here, today, or I will take them all from you and let you slowly die from the grief.” Rafe’s jaw twitched with tension. His eyes scanned Bull’s features with frenzied madness. “Beg me! Tell me you want to die!”

There wasn’t a doubt in Bull’s mind Rafe would fulfill his promise. But Bull was too damn stubborn to give Rafe the reaction he sought.

A twisted, almost hysterical laugh escaped Rafe, a stark contrast to the fury staring back at him. With a sweeping motion, Rafe reached behind himself and pulled forward the submachine gun strapped to his body.

Bull stilled. A cold wash of fear and worry suffocated him.

The sneer curled Rafe’s lips as a growl erupted, growing louder as he turned the weapon over and swung the stock of the gun upward toward Bull’s face like a baseball bat. Bull’s head whipped to the side, the sheer force of the impact almost enough to rip his head clear off his body.

Everything felt loose.

Broken.

His body twitched and shivered.

A second blow to his knee had him jerking forward in the chair, the pain instantly radiating throughout his body. Even restrained, he couldn’t fight his body’s instinct to protect itself. He bent his head forward as close to his chest as possible.

Rafe fisted Bull’s hair and yanked his head back, the sudden movement sending another jolt of pain to his scalp and churning the bile in his stomach. “I’m going to watch the life leave your body. One glorious second at a time,” he said, spittle flying.

Glass shattered a split second before the man against the wall facing him fell to the ground.

Bull remained still as a faint whiz breezed by his ear and a perfectly round dark red hole suddenly appeared in the center of Rafe’s forehead. The grip in his hair weakened and Rafe fell back and onto the floor.

Wall. He was the only man Bull knew who could nail a shot with that degree of precision at that angle. Bull’s body slumped in the chair, the relief knowing Aidan was near was almost too much to bear.

He winced at the pounding…at the door or in his head, he couldn’t tell anymore. Everything was blurring together too fast as the adrenaline evaporated from his body. The door pushed open and slammed against the back wall, sending another thump of pain through his throbbing head.

“Fuck!”

Yeah, that’s Aidan.

“I’ve got you,” his friend whispered in his ear as Aidan cradled his head. Footsteps filled the room, the rope binding his hands was pulled and cut while his friend remained steady at his side. With a hand gently placed over his ear, Aidan yelled out another command, the sound a little muffled and less piercing to Bull’s ear. “I need a medic in here!”

“Ben?” Bull asked, the words not sounding right to his ear.

“Don’t talk. You might make it worse. There’s a helo on its way. I couldn’t risk this asshole hearing it fly too close. You’re gonna be fine.”

Fine. He hated that word. And he sure as hell didn’t feel fine.

Through his blurring, fading vision, he noticed the medics entering the room wore battle fatigues. “I’ll text Ben as soon as we’re in the air. He got all barbaric on my ass when I told him he couldn’t come with me to

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