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Chapter 6: Family Reunion with Loaded Guns
Fecha de publicación:
2026-10-03 00:45:56
Último capítulo
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The headlights outside cut through the misty rain, illuminating at least twenty more of Alex's hired muscle stepping out of black sedans. They carried tire irons, shotguns, and submachine guns, spreading into a wide semi-circle to block the only clear vehicle exit leading out of the dockyards.Damon tightened his grip around Julian's ribs, backing up toward the cold concrete wall. "Roxie, I appreciate your enthusiasm for demolition, but that is a literal firing squad. Unless you can sprout wings and airlift us over the harbor, we are about to become very wealthy swiss cheese.""Quiet, Sterling. Thinking.""Don't strain yourself!"Julian groaned between them, his legs trembling. "Damon... leave me. If Alex's men catch us, they'll kill you to bury the witness trail. Take your bodyguard and run.""Shut up, Julian," Damon snapped, though his voice lacked its usual arrogant bite. "You already made one catastrophically stupid decision today by playing Wall Street with loan sharks. Don't add
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The silence inside the office was so thick you could slice it with a butter knife.On the Persian rug, Julian trembled like a leaf in an autumn storm, muffled whimpers coming through the silver duct tape over his mouth. The cold snout of Alex's revolver was dug right behind the kid's ear. Behind the desk, two bodyguards with assault rifles kept their fingers twitching on their triggers, while Alex stood tall, radiating the smug satisfaction of a man who held all four aces.And Damon? Damon looked like someone had ripped his spine right out of his back and replaced it with dry celery.His hands were hanging loose at his sides. The usual cocky smirk was completely dead. His bright blue eyes darted from Julian's bruised face to the black detonator wire tucked neatly along the baseboards, leading straight down into the floor beneath our feet."Thirty pounds of C-4," Damon whispered, his voice cracking. "Alex, you're bluffing. You wouldn't blow up your own warehouse.""Try me, rich boy," A
Taming the Untamed Playboy Chapter 6: Family Reunion with Loaded Guns
The inside of the warehouse looked like an obstacle course designed by a lunatic with too much dynamite.Smoke rolled across the concrete floor from the blown-out wall. Broken drywall, shattered fluorescent light tubes, and twisted rebar lay scattered everywhere. Ahead of us was a vast, cavernous room packed with rows of rusted cargo containers and wooden crates stamped with forged shipping permits.And running straight toward us from the central cat-walk were a dozen men holding steel pipes, tire irons, and heavy pistols."Roxie," Damon said behind me, his voice a tight squeak. "I would like to file an official complaint with the bodyguard agency. The service is terrible, and the ambient lead content in this room is about to skyrocket.""Duck behind that crate and keep your mouth shut," I said, not even looking back at him. "Unless you want to catch a bullet with your three-thousand-dollar jaw.""Hey! My face is a national treasure!""Then protect the national treasure and stay down!
Taming the Untamed Playboy Chapter 5: How Not to Sneak Into a Gangster's Warehouse
"Are you completely suicidal, or did you drop your brain in that diner ketchup?"Damon had been shouting at me for twelve straight city blocks. His hands gripped the black SUV's steering wheel so hard the expensive stitched leather was turning white beneath his fingers.He had loosened his silk tie until it hung sideways around his collar, looking less like a crisp billionaire heir and more like a Wall Street broker having an active panic attack."Keep your eyes on the road," I said, leaning back in the passenger seat and examining the crushed pieces of my smartphone. "And stop screeching. Your voice is going up three octaves. You sound like a squeaky tea kettle.""A squeaky tea kettle?!" Damon slammed his palm against the horn as he cut off a yellow taxi. The horn blared, echoing through the evening drizzle."Alex Cross isn't some corner pickpocket with a pocket knife, Roxie! He runs illegal harbor cargo, half the city's private loan desks, and three underground fighting rings! He ha
Taming the Untamed Playboy chapter 4. The Thousand-Dollar Cheeseburger and the Underground Trap
The executive board meeting ended in record time.Usually, corporate summits at Sterling Tower lasted six grueling hours of budget reports, angry debates, and endless PowerPoints. Today, thanks to a crumpled brass lamp and two unconscious security guards lying by the broken credenza, Damon closed the entire maritime port acquisition in under twenty-two minutes.Nobody argued. Nobody raised a hand. Carter signed every single document Damon slid across the glass table with shaking fingers, looking like he was terrified that breathing too loudly would cause me to snap his neck.When Damon finally stood up and buttoned his charcoal jacket, he didn't look like a nervous wreck anymore. The spoiled boy had transformed back into the king of the city, wearing a lazy, dangerous smirk that could melt glaciers."Wonderful doing business with you, gentlemen," Damon said smoothly, picking up his aviators. "Carter, have the janitor sweep up the decanter glass before someone ruins their loafers."Pat
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The front bumper of the red Ferrari scraped along the pavement like a metal rake the entire drive downtown, making a horrible grinding sound that turned every head on the street.I tapped my fingers on the cracked steering wheel, humming along to the cheesy pop song playing through the radio. Next to me, Damon sat stiff as a marble statue. He had both hands clenched tightly in his lap, his jaw locked, his eyes glued straight to the road ahead. Every time I hit the brake and the crushed bumper squealed, his left eye gave a tiny, nervous twitch."Nice sound system," I said, glancing over at him with a wide grin. "Very clear bass."Damon didn't turn his head. His knuckles turned white against his expensive charcoal pants. "You broke my car. That vehicle was custom-built in Milan. Only ten exist in the world.""Well, now only nine and a half exist," I answered smoothly, taking a sharp right turn into the financial district. "You tried to turn me into roadkill, remember? Consider the crush
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