At the same time, I was also feeling an amount of fear that had me feeling like I was going to pass out. This thirty-something-year-old man should have been handsome, from his strong jaw and nose to his windswept brown hair. But there was something cold about his light eyes. There was nothing there. Absolutely nothing, and it was horrifying to have directed towards me.
His voice was hard and unemotional as he spoke right next to my ear. “You convince those fucking bastards to stop working with Agent Reyes. Dixon Glenn has a far bigger reach than you can even imagine. He is extending this singular warning to you.Pull them back or else.”
“Fuck you.” My words were muffled by his hand as I felt my face grow heated with anger at his words. I wasn’t someone who swore very often, but this man was clearly the exception.
His chuckle was sharp and cruel as he tightened his grip on my jaw, making my hearing go out momentarily, my heart pounding in my ears as I nearly puked right on him. The fluctuation between anger and fear was a terrifying experience. His hand moved from my jaw and roughly grabbed my breast, making me shrink further back against the wall as much as possible.
“And here I thought you wanted me to fuck off, but I am more than fucking happy to make this job worth it.”
A whimper of legitimate fear left my lips as he offered me a smile that was absolutely sadistic, his hand moving back up to my hair, which he gripped hard so I had to keep my eyes on him. Immediately, I made the connection of how much like Greg this man was, and that was absolutely terrifying. His voice was almost soft as he switched gears. “You have one chance, Dahlia. Understand? Or else I’m going to personally make fucking sure that you don’t live another day to continue this bullshit.”
My eyes darted over his shoulder as my heart began to beat faster, but not in fear, rather relief. I looked back at the man in front of me. “No.”
Before he could respond, surprise coating his face momentarily, his body jolted, eyes widening in shock and mouth falling open. Blood began to pool out of his nose as his entire body weight fell on me, the vibration in the air and the ringing through my ears making me wonder if I was dreaming. There was no way any of this was happening.
I stared blankly as Yates pulled the man off me, tossing him to the ground, blood from the gunshot wound in the side of his head pooling on the floor and coating my boyfriend. And me. I had blood on me.
My eyes fluttered as I tried to process what I was seeing, Yates appearing in front of me as he dropped the gun on the ground. The space suddenly filled withactualsecurity as I stared into Yates’s eyes, shock permeating everything.
Yates’s voice was almost a soft coo as he cupped my face. “Bunny, I am going to get you out of here, okay?”
I nodded, and when he lifted me up, I clung to him, my eyes darting over the body and the brains splattered on the wall opposite us in an almost artistic display. I wasn’t positive that I would ever be able to look at this security office again. Not without thinking about this.
A small sound broke from my throat, almost a whimper, as Yates’s grip tightened on me. I briefly registered that he was walking me towards his house, but I couldn’t think about that. Instead I was staring at him, the blood on him, his calm, almost serene expression, and the way he seemed to have already processed what he’d just done.
Oh, he had for sure done this before, that wasn’t in question.
But… how he was reacting was such in opposition to the night with Ian. I didn’t understand this man. He had such an unbalancing effect, and I felt like I was in a stormy sea just hanging on for dear life.
“You killed him.”
Yates let out a noncommittal sound and then chuckled, the sound startling me as we walked through his front door. “Callum is probably going to be pissed about that.”
“Why?” I rasped. I mean, I had assumed he was going to knock him out, not put a gun to his head and blow his brains out.
I was pretty positive I was going to throw up.
“He was threatening you.” Yates looked at my expression with concern, and then I saw his temper flash behind his gaze. “He also fucking touched you.”
“You killed him for touching me?” My head was spinning as we entered his bedroom, the curtains drawn and the room dark in the early morning light. I could almost pretend none of that had happened.
Almost.
Yates gently put me down on his bed and tugged off his shirt, kneeling in front of me as he began to wipe the blood from my body. I blinked, trying to decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. The first bubbled out of me as Yates regarded me with a cautious yet oddly amused look, his gaze a near charcoal color in the darkness of his bedroom.
“What?” His voice was calm and patient.
“I… I don’t know why I’m laughing,” I gasped and then closed my eyes, which were growing hot with tears. “Okay, this is okay. What just happened—”
“Is far from okay. He should have died much slower,” Yates purred, nipping my jaw.
This was a dream, right? I mean, Yates sounded absolutely psychotic. The man just said he shot a man for threatening me and touching me… That couldn’t be right.
Right?
I watched as he pulled his shirt down his face to wipe off the blood, disregarding the drips on the pale carpet that covered his room. It was going to stain.
“How are you fine right now?” I asked softly, my pulse beating out of control. I needed to find a way to sort through this. To store these emotions away.