Semua Bab Hotter Than Hell: Bab 211 - Bab 220

RackMoon’s dark eyes drill into mine. He’s in one of his impeccable dark suits, unaffected by the hot temperature, and, like always, in complete control. He lifts his arms and then drops them back to his side. “My hands are tied, my friend,” he says without a single crack in his cold expression.One plus one equals two. Maddison or Celina, possibly both, are in danger. It’s the only way this scenario could happen. It’s the one thing that would tie Moon’s hands and make him give up Beth and Carson. It leaves me with no leverage.Two men step from the shadows. I’ve worked with them for years. Cal moves in close and takes my right arm. I trained him and the move is stupid on his part. I explode before Marcus grabs my other arm. If Angelo gets his hands on Beth and Carson, my life doesn’t matter.I slam my elbow into Cal’s head and my knee takes Marcus in the groin. Cal strikes back with a side kick, but I grab his leg, turn, and push him into Marcus. An explosion followed by a sudden jo

RackFor two days I’m as weak as a newborn. The first twenty-four hours are a fog. After that, the pain and my inability to do the most basic of tasks made me beyond grumpy. Beth brought Carson in to see me often. The ache in my heart is worse than the ache in my chest cavity where the doctor inserted the tube after removing the one that Gomez put in.I’m not sure how I feel about what Moon did. It ultimately makes little sense and I’ve lost my trust in him and his organization. I will never forgive Moon or Gomez for bringing Beth in to see what Gomez did to me. The fury running through my veins stays bottled inside.For now.I told Gomez to empty my offshore account and set the money up in Beth’s name. I want her and my son cared for. I don’t need the money even though I have no idea what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. I will no longer be part of Moon’s organization.“I can tell by the look on your face that I’m just in time,” Carlo says from the doorway. I can tell he has

I grip the side of the casket tight enough that my fingers turn blue while peering down at the man I thought of as father. There’s a twist in my gut, a feeling that many would call caring. It surprises even me. Victor chose me for my lack of emotion and turned me into his perfect killing machine. He cared in his own way but was never affectionate, which I didn’t want or need anyway. I was his problem-solver whenever the problem required a permanent solution. I was also his boogeyman to show off and put fear into his friends and enemies alike. If I had a conscience, our arrangement never would have worked.Victor rescued me from a juvenile facility when I was twelve. To this day I have no idea how he managed my release into his custody. It’s one of the great unsolved mysteries that died with him. When I first arrived at his home, I thought he was a dirty old man. My plan was to kill him when he touched me. At twelve, I was already aware of the dangers men presented. Victor picked me up

MelinaI’m freezing and too cold to sleep. About ten minutes ago, I heard a car drive away and I think he’s left the house. Or at least I think he has me in a house; it appears to be a basement from the short glimpses of cement block walls I’ve managed to see. He isn’t concerned with me yelling, so I’m guessing the house isn’t close to others. He’s so damn calm and unyielding. It’s seriously driving me insane.From what I could see in the dark with his small flashlight, he’s at least six feet tall, with just the right amount of muscle on a lean frame. His short-sleeved shirt hugged a sculpted chest and his jeans looked painted on. His short, light brown hair accentuated a prominent jaw with the perfect amount of scruff on his chin. He’s gorgeous in an underwear model sort of way. At least until you reach his eyes. When the light reflected off them, I almost stepped back. They’re pale green, almost startling if you don’t look into their cold, lifeless depths. Pools of darkness lurked i

AustinThe hysterics were nice until her screams semi-damaged my eardrums. I expected her to fight and she almost disappointed me. She’s different than I thought she would be. The excitement I feel over terrorizing her is a surprise. I kill with cold dispassion. This is different, a methodical game of restraint not to kill that I’ve never experienced.I step on the foot pedal and the Dragonfly fires up. I delight when her body goes rigid at the sound before I depress the pedal and the room is quiet again. The sound of her harsh breathing thunders through my veins and I swear our hearts sync.Normally I would tell a person to relax. Not because I care, but because it’s what you do when someone’s in your chair—or bed as the case is now. I don’t want her to relax, though. I want this to fucking hurt. I want her to feel every fucking needle prick as I mutilate her lovely skin. I want to penetrate her skin further than I should and watch the colors bleed into her flesh. I want my ink to be