Chapter 5

Rico

She has no idea how much danger she’s in.

Green rooms are the one room I’ve considered getting rid of, just due to the liability alone, though having people sign wavers makes me more comfortable with them.

Until now, someone with no idea what all the colors mean going into the anything goes room is a recipe for disaster, and given that the someone is Sandra, I’m feeling the stress and strain of needing to protect her from whatever she might face.

I step into the green room only to have her slam into me. Winding my arms around her in a protective gesture, I stare down the guy approaching her. He doesn't seem to recognize who I am as he gives a twisted grin.

“She’s a wily one, I’ll hold her for you if you hold her for me.” His words leave my stomach twisting in anger, and I feel her wince as if he’d struck her with his words alone. Knowing she’s a virgin, the thought of actual rape being her first experience leaves rage bubbling deep within me.

“She’s not one of us, she’s just lost.”

The guy's smile fades, and he glares at me. “I don't know who you think you are, but she's mine. I don't care what games you want to play, but I'm already in the middle of one.” He takes a step toward her, and I take a step back, gently moving her behind me.

The crushing rage of knowing that Clarke is trying to pull a fast one on me and not honor his contract, my fear for Sandra’s safety, Hunter’s desire for her, my own screw up thinking she’d come to Club Red to see me for other reasons, and the fact that she’d felt so unsafe with me that she’d run away and headfirst into danger all shred the fragile rope of my self-control.

“You're not going to lay a hand on her. Like I said, she's lost. She's not a club member. She’s. My. Guest.”

He stops for a minute, sizing me up with a quick up and down glance. “If she's your guest here at the club, then she is a club member. We are in the green room, anything goes. You have no right to tell me what I can or can't do here.” An evil grin tugs the corners of his lips. “Hell, I could take you if I wanted.”

I want to fucking dare him to try. But before I can say a word, I feel her shift and I spin around, catching her in my arms before she can bolt again. She instantly begins raining blows down on my shoulder with both fists and trying to kick me with both feet, and I completely understand her fear.

Thanks to this lovely gentleman, she knows we’re in the green room, that anything goes and she is no doubt worried that I might attack her now. After all, what man wouldn't want to finish what he started?

Of all the things I am, a rapist isn’t one of them.

I very rarely come into the green room, and when I do, it’s only to scratch a very specific itch.

“Since she's new here, why don't we work together to break her in?” The guy seems to have finally figured out that there's no way he can take me one-on-one, but the more he talks, the more I want to hit him.

“How about you fuck right off?” I readjust Sandra on my shoulder as she continues to kick and fight, trying to get away. Without thinking about it, I swat her backside with an open hand. “That's enough.” The second I growl the words, she goes completely still, and I wonder if she's even still breathing.

I set her down on her feet, looking down into her face. “You're going to stay right next to me unless I tell you to do something else. Do you understand?”

I swear she's holding her breath. She gives her head the slightest of nods, her eyes locked on mine.

And I realize I found her kink. “Good girl.” The second I say the words, the hollow at the base of her throat bottoms out and she inhales deeply, her nostrils flaring and her eyes igniting with desire.

In that moment, I know that I could do anything I want to her. That the rest of the world has completely faded away and any danger she feels is gone. That little bit of knowledge hits my veins like a drug, like an intoxicating drink, and I want her more now than ever.

Who would have thought our specific kinks would complement one another? I’d consider myself lucky if the asshole didn’t choose right then to speak up.

“Is she a good girl? I'm about to find out.” The idiot behind her lunges forward as if to grab her, and I gently push her out of the way, putting a hand against his chest and holding him at arm's length while his arms windmill.

“I already said you're not going to touch her.” I'm done wasting time with this waste of oxygen. Nobody gets a second warning. “You're going to get the fuck out of my club and not come back.”

He lets out his breath in a pfft of disapproval. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? I pay my membership just like everybody else, pal.”

“I’m not your damn pal. Consider your membership terminated. Leave, now.” I shove him back and he stands, crossing his arms and letting out a chuckle at my words.

I can feel my rage simmering below the surface as he stares at me for another long moment. Then he half turns, as if considering leaving through the door behind him. Instead, he swings at me with a surprise right hook. I catch his wrist and kick the back of his knee as momentum carries him past me, dropping him down on one knee with his arm pinned out behind him at an angle that would make the bone easy to break.

And I’ve never wanted to break someone’s arm so badly in my life. A quick jerk, a satisfying snap and he’d be done hurting women for pleasure. Instead of breaking his arm, I put a foot between his shoulder blades and push forward, letting his arm go.

He lets loose a string of profanity as he falls face first on the floor. Without missing a beat, he jumps to his feet and spins to face me, bringing both fists up near his face in a clear threat that he's ready to fight. I see his fighting stance is as weak as the man himself is.

Sandra’s sharp “No!” makes me glance her way. She’s pressed against the wall, horror etched on her face.

“Go through the blue door and wait for me.” I know the orgy rooms are laid back—no one will harass her, though they might proposition her. But she’s mine. I won’t ask Blake for help.

She shakes her head, frozen, as the other man throws a jab. I duck, my patience thinning.

“I don’t give second warnings.”

He swings again. The fragile thread of my control snaps. I strike his throat, watching him drop, gasping. Grabbing his shoulders, I bring my knee up, shattering his nose. Blood sprays, a sick contrast against the bright green walls.

Rage fuels me. I think of what he planned to do to Sandra. My foot slams into his stomach. He curls up, and I kick him again. Bones crunch. Blood pools. My anger deepens, and I don’t stop.

I remember what it’s like to be powerless, to be hurt by someone stronger. That memory feeds my fury. Again. And again. The impact of my boot, his groans of pain—satisfaction. I want him to suffer.

“Stop!” Hands grab at me. I shove them away and kick him once more.

“Rico!”

Sandra's voice—sharp, desperate—halts me. She’s on the floor, palms behind her. I must have knocked her down.

Her voice softens, soothing the demon inside me.

“You’re going to kill him. Stop.”

I look at the bloodied man. No pity. No remorse. Just one more kick, square to the kidneys. He jolts, gritting his teeth in agony. A reminder—I don’t take orders.

I stalk toward her, gripping her ribs, lifting her to her feet. I see the denial in her eyes as I shake her.

“He was going to hurt you. Rape you. Maybe torture you. Take pleasure in it.”

“It’s not his fault. I shouldn’t have been here.” Her misplaced guilt tightens my chest.

I set her down, pull out my phone, and text my cleaner. She won’t see me the same way again. Maybe that’s for the best. She should know who I really am.

“Thank you for trying to protect me.” Her quiet words threaten to melt something inside me. I refuse to let them.

“I wasn’t protecting you. He disrespected me in my club. I don’t give second warnings.”

Without another word, I hoist her over my shoulder.

“Put me down!”

“No.” I step over the bastard’s body and head for the door.

“Rico, I’m a grown woman. I can walk.” She sounds tired.

“No.”

When will she realize I don't take orders from her or anyone else? As I push through the door, my cleaner walks past, giving me a subtle nod.

I nod back, well aware what's going to happen next. One thing's for sure, we're not going to see that asshole in my club again.