Chapter 6

Nikolai

Things just got interesting.

Cop.

I can sniff them out a mile away. He’s protection most likely, a

knight in shining armor for the little fucking princess wannabe I just felt up.

If I’d had a few more minutes, I would’ve had her on her knees, begging for my cock. She was practically panting with need.

In a flash, I wrap an arm around her throat and grab my own Glock from the small of my back. I press it against her temple and hear her gasp, and the cop’s eyes narrow. The gun in his hand never wavers, not even when he throws a flick of attention to the girl then switches back to me.

He may think he has me cornered, but I highly doubt he’ll shoot, not when I’m holding the prize. I cock my head and smile.

“Uncle Max!” she gasps, and I tighten my arm against her neck to restrict her airway. That shuts her up instantly.

Uncle Max?

Uncle?

When the realization finally strikes me, laughter rumbles in my chest.

Oh, this is good.

“How sweet. She’s got no idea, does she?” I say, the silencer pushing a little harder against her temple. “You’ve kept her in the dark this long? Does she even know about Finnegan? Or—”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Wilder,” he snaps, his brows creased with fury. “Let the girl go. She has nothing to do with this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Uncle Max,” I spit, jerking her harder against me. Her round ass presses against my groin, making my dick harden, and it takes too much effort to keep my focus where it needs to be —on the deadly weapon pointed our way. “She has everything to do with it.”

His muscles tighten, and I can see the war of whether to shoot me in his eyes. I almost want him to take the chance. Try it. He’d risk hitting Rosalind, the precious little thing he’s sworn to protect, so there’s no way he’ll pull the trigger.

“You know, you’ve done a piss-poor job. It was almost too easy,” I tempt him. I skirt the gun along the side of her face, and she squirms against me. My cock twitches in response, growing more and more uncomfortable in the restrictive fabric of my pants. “Pretty fucking thing, isn’t she? Can kiss, too. Wonder what else she can do…”

My thoughts run wild with all the things I can’t wait to do to her: strip her naked, bend her over to see that perfect ass in the air, defile her in the best ways.

She’ll scream, too, both pain and pleasure. I’ll make sure of it. When I have her sweating, sore, and gasping for air, she’ll beg for more.

She’ll beg for me.

The look on Uncle Max’s face is one of disgust. He absolutely loathes me, and I relish in it. Fuck him, the over-inflated pig. He doesn’t intimidate me; I’ve seen hell. No one on this earth can intimidate me.

“Have you tried her, Uncle Max?” I ask, pushing him more. “Have you dipped into the honey jar?”

When he barely flinches, it confirms my suspicions. He’s definitely hardened law, in for the long haul. My taunts don’t raise even a hackle.

Even under the threat of death, sweet little Rosalind doesn’t cry. I’d expect tears and hysteria from anyone else, but not the spawn of fucking Finnegan.

“Put the gun down, Wilder. Now,” Uncle Max repeats, harder this time.

I just laugh. “Or what? I’m a fast shot. She’ll be dead before a bullet touches me.”

“Maybe I don’t care.”

That seems to surprise both me and Rosalind, because she sucks in a sharp breath. “Uncle Max!”

I clamp a hand around her mouth and tap the gun against her temple again to remind her to keep her fucking trap shut.

“Sorry, dear. The grown-ups are talking now.” I press my lips against her ear. “Besides, I doubt your Uncle Max is lying. The only thing he cares about is losing his job, or sullying his suit. Me? I like a little mess.”

His finger begins to pull back on the trigger. “You piece of sh—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. My bullet hits its mark, nailing him right between the eyes. Blood and brains explode from the back of his head, coating the door and hallway with his memories.

Uncle Max is dead before he hits the floor.

Rosalind’s muffled screams ring out from behind my hand, and I jerk her roughly to get her to stop. “Don’t.”

Her screaming ceases just as Rush arrives, kicking Max’s corpse completely inside the room. In contrast to me, my cousin’s platinum blond hair stands out against his strikingly dark blue suit, his boyish face making him look like a child instead of newly nineteen. For as young as he is, he’s done this sort of thing enough to know exactly what needs to be done for a quick getaway. He dumps a canvas bag on the floor with a hard thump and pulls what’s left of the door shut behind him.

Glancing down at the dead cop, I almost feel bad for him. Almost. He was a fucking idiot for thinking he could take me on in a game of chicken.

“Door wasn’t even locked. Geez.” Rush is my second in command, pretty much the only person I trust in the world, and the only one who can get away with speaking to me like that. When he looks down at the body, his lip curls up in disgust.

“Macho man wanted to make a fucking scene. Look where it got him.” I lean close to Rosalind’s face again and draw in a deep breath. She smells delicious, like jasmine and roses and fear. “Good girl. Stay quiet for me.” She shivers but doesn’t say anything.

“Whose bright idea was it to let her do this? She practically put flashing lights above her head. Made it easier for us, though.” Rush kicks the body at his feet before stripping it of wallet, ID, phone, gun, whatever the guy has on him. “She’s pretty and all, don’t get me wrong, but letting her prance around like that is just asking for it.”

I quirk an eyebrow and shrug. “Seek and ye shall find.”

He snorts and looks up at me. “You could have waited for me. You know I like this kind of thing.”

I roll my eyes at my cousin, aware that Rosalind’s shaking is getting worse; she’s probably on the verge of losing her shit.

“Shhh.” I try to quiet her as I coast the edge of the barrel down her soft skin once more. “You don’t want me to put a bullet in you too, do you? That would be such a waste, Rose.”

Her breathing is hard and erratic; she swallows, and I can feel her throat move against my palm. I loosen my hold a little. She’s still pressed against me, body melded to mine. I’m hard as a fucking rock right now, so much so that my balls ache. Whether it’s from the kiss we shared or the adrenaline still coursing through my body from the fresh kill, I don’t know.

The girl is fucking smoking, all innocence and sin, and to top it off, I’m pretty fucking sure she hasn’t been touched before. I don’t think she’s ever tasted a real man before. I’m thirty-five, older and more experienced in every way I can think of.

I’m going to have a goddamn festival debauching her, breaking her in and taking everything she can give me. Actually, fuck that. Not just breaking her in: I’m going to destroy her.

I can’t fucking wait.

Despite my lecherous thoughts, I wash away any emotion from my face and turn back to Rush. “You’re right. They practically handed her to me.”

Rush snickers. He might be the natural heir to the Wilder family, but he’s comfortable to sit back and let me lead, which works for me. After all the effort I’ve put into this family, every drop of blood I’ve spilled to get to where I am today, I’m not sure I’d give up my seat at the head of the table, even if Rush wanted it back.

“They let their guard down,” he says. “It’s more fun for us that way anyway. Well, for you.”

He’s right there, too. I am enjoying myself, probably a little more than I should.

Rosalind is shaking harder now, but I continue to shush her in soft tones. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Her huge, doe like eyes lift to me, and she gives a short shake of her head.

“Well, let me tell you,” I whisper, leaning in closer. “I’m you’re worst fucking nightmare.”

Body going stiff, she sucks in a breath, preparing for her impending scream.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I warn. “Remember what I said earlier.”

Heading my advice, she makes little whimpering sounds, and her breasts rise and fall rapidly in her red dress. My gaze drops to those two perfect mounds, pushed up and practically calling my name. It takes all my resolve not to grip the gown’s front and tear it in half, leaving her exposed and vulnerable in the middle of the dark room. She’d try to push me away, but nothing would stop me from taking one of those cherry-tipped nipples into my mouth and tasting her.

“What do you think of the name, Rose?” I like it. It suits her better than Rosalind. “You’re going to be my Rose from now on. Do you understand?” Her brows crease. She’s not liking my name change. That’s too bad. She’s my Rose now, thorns and all. I’ll pluck her petals, one by one, until there’s nothing left.

“Good little Rose. I’m going to take my hand away, and if you even think about screaming, I’ll kill you. Then I’ll find that eccentric friend of yours… what’s her name?”

“Genevieve Grant,” Rush interrupts with a smile. “Calls herself Genius. A little presumptive, honestly.”

“Hear that, sweet Rose?” I murmur. “My cousin fancies Genius, so maybe I’ll let him have some fun before he kills her.”

Her eyes glitter with impending tears. It looks like I hit a nerve.

Rush clicks his tongue in the corner. “Leave me out of this, Niko.”

“I’m making a point here.”

“You already made one. It’s right there, on the ground, brains blown out of his head.” My cousin’s attention flicks to Rosalind, gauging her reaction.

He may say he doesn’t want to be included, but I know him too well. There’s murder glinting in his eyes. He hates her father as much as I do.

“Okay, I’m going to lift my hand from your mouth.” I wiggle the hand clasped over her mouth. “One sound from you and I’ll cut your tongue out, and then I’ll fucking kill you. Got it?” She nods.

“Don’t test me. I’m not in the mood.” I lift my hand.

“I’m… I’m not going to.” Her voice wobbles, a little high-pitched, but she’s remarkably holding it together.

She sucks in breath after breath, like she’s trying to stave off a panic attack.

“We need to go, Niko.” Rush pokes his head out the door, his movements jerky with urgency. “Coast is clear, but time is running out.

They’re going to notice she’s not there.” “I know,” I bite out.

Without warning, Rosalind throws an elbow into my gut. It startles me more than anything else—she’s not strong enough to really hurt me—but as laughable as her escape attempt is, annoyance pricks.

I seize her by the arm, hard enough to bruise, and yank her hard toward me. With a sharp gasp, she bumps against my chest.

“What do you want with me?” she cries, anger and fear forcing her tears to finally fall.

“You’ll find out soon enough, sweet little Rose.” Swiftly, I bring the butt of my gun down hard on the back of her head, and she crumples to the ground with a soft thump, unconscious.

Rush peeks up at me. “Was that necessary?”

“No, but she was starting to get on my nerves.”

“You’re a sick bastard.”

“Old news,” I shrug as Rush rolls the dead man out of the way. He pulls a hoodie from the bag he brought and tosses it to me. “She was getting a bit too brave. I don’t think she would’ve come quietly, and I’m not in the mood to deal with that right now.”

He shrugs on a white vest, pinning on a badge and a name tag I had him pack. A pair of rubber gloves and stethoscope around his neck help complete his emergency health personnel look, and I marvel at how easily my plan is coming together. With this get up, we’ll be able to walk right out without a second glance.

I holster my gun under my jacket, then button it back into place. Looking down at Rosalind, I’m tempted to toss her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but instead, I hoist her into my arms. She’s not heavy, and she looks smaller when she’s knocked out. I stroke a finger gently along those lush lips, then again, harder this time, rubbing her lipstick down to smear it. It’s deceptively hard work; that shit doesn’t really want to move. She really is fucking beautiful. Pity her fate was sealed by circumstance of birth.

“I like to be prepared for all contingencies, Rush.”

He checks the hallway again. “That’s what I like about you, Nikolai. You might be a sick fuck, but you make things happen and you’re always prepared. You’re like an evil boy scout.”

“Thanks. I think,” I reply, lifting her a little so I can move quickly if need be.

We step into the hall, hurrying toward the back emergency exit. We pass a few contestants and staff, but they only regard us with fake sympathy. They probably assume she fainted from not eating enough or a dress laced too tight. This sort of stuff happens all the time in these contests. Medical attention is no surprise.

No one stops us, and when we make it to the door, I spot the alarm warning sign immediately.

I glance at my cousin. “Rush…”

“Hey, no worries.” He points to the upper corner where two split wires hang. “Paid off a maintenance man before meeting you back there. Looks like he did his job.”

If nothing else, he’s a pretty quick learner. “Perfect.”

We walk out into the chilly night, beauty queen in hand. I spot our tinted SUV, engine running and waiting for us. Rush opens the trunk, tosses in the bags, and I carefully lay Rosalind on top of them. She moans right as I slam the hatch down.

As I head for the driver’s seat, my cousin tosses me the keys. He climbs into the passenger seat and I take off, ready to take what’s due to me.