Page 11 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

Grey

I studiously avoid the annex for the rest of the day. I get in a good spar with Maximus, one of our best assassins whose specialty is shooting. He can shoot a shot glass off a man’s head from a mile away. He’s one of the few Nighthawks who I trust, aside from Cain.

In the afternoon, I force myself to do the administrative work that Cain’s had to take over for the last couple of months.

I look through the contracts that Boyce has accepted for the Nighthawks, and pair each hit with the right assassin.

It’s a delicate art, assigning kills. Technically, Boyce should be doing this, but he’s never given much of a shit about administrative work.

He just wants to drink, fuck, and occasionally kill.

Cain sends me a text to remind me of our meeting with his weapons dealer tonight, and shortly afterward, I receive a message from Boyce, calling me up for a meeting.

I meet Cain right outside the door to Boyce’s office. If we’ve both been summoned, that means one of three things: Boyce has figured out we’re taking a meeting behind his back and will kill us, Boyce wants us to do his work for him, or Boyce wants an update on Sharpe.

Scarlett . That girl with fire in her eyes and her soul. If she weren’t such a wretched excuse for a human being, I might actually like her. I’d certainly respect her fight, her gusto .

“You know what this is about?” I ask Cain.

He looks me up and down. “I almost don’t recognize you sober.”

“Stop being a prick,” I say flatly.

He turns back to the door. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.” Without expanding, he knocks on the door. When Boyce calls us to come in, we file inside.

Jesus. Boyce isn’t alone. There’s a girl here, on her knees, sucking his cock.

He’s seated on the small couch in the corner of the room, and she’s kneeling at his feet.

She’s wearing a collar, and he’s holding her leash in his hand.

She doesn’t even glance up at our entrance, just continues sliding her lips over his micro-dick. She’s probably a prostitute.

An image flashes in my mind; so brief that I barely catch it, but it sticks. Scarlett, on her knees in front of me. Parting her lips to swallow my cock and drink my cum. Scarlett, spread eagle on my bed, waiting patiently for me to do whatever I want to her.

Fuck, no. No. Anyone but her. She’s stunning, no denying that, but she’s also evil . While I don’t mind being rough in the bedroom—I have my fair share of proclivities—I’m not into murderesses and liars. No matter how pretty they are, even after days of being covered in grime, dirt, and blood.

Boyce notices my line of sight. A smarmy smile tilts up his thin lips, and he nods down at the girl. “Want a go at her?” he asks.

The girl pulls off his cock and looks at him with wide blue eyes. “You only paid me for an hour, and only for you. Anything else will be extra—” she cuts off with a whimper when he grabs a fistful of her hair and jerks her neck back.

“You will stay as long as I want you to stay, and you’ll fuck whoever I tell you to fuck. Got it?” His tone is heated, even rageful. Boyce has never done well with people questioning his authority—apparently, not even prostitutes.

“ Got it?” he asks again, voice deepening.

She nods with a small whimper. “Yes. Of course.”

Boyce releases her. She blinks several times, then carefully reaches for his cock, as if she’s afraid to set him off again. I’m not surprised that this is how Boyce approaches sex, but I am still vaguely disgusted. How low do you have to be to mistreat the girl you pay for?

“Either of you boys want a turn?” Boyce asks again. The question is directed at me and Cain, though his gaze remains glued to the prostitute who’s once again working on his cock.

“No thanks,” I say flatly.

“I don’t need to pay for sex,” Cain remarks drolly. Boyce pins Cain with a glare at that, but he doesn’t push the matter. Cain is powerful in the Nighthawks—maybe even the most powerful Nighthawk. Boyce would be an idiot to fuck with him, which gives Cain latitude that the rest of us don’t get.

“Any chance you can tell us why we’re here?” Cain asks calmly, folding his hands behind his back.

“Yeah.” Boyce sits up; the prostitute falls back on her ass, and he shoos her away. “Go wait in the corner, sweetie. We’ll have all the fun I want soon, won’t we?”

She swallows hard and nods. “Of course.”

This shit is just disgusting. I make a mental note to ensure that the girl gets home safe, and that she’s tipped very well for her troubles.

Boyce tucks himself into his pants, then stands to face me and Cain. “Just wanted an update on the Sharpe. She’s been here a few days; has she coughed up anything useful?”

“Not yet,” Cain says. “Funny enough, she’s pretty adamant that she’s had no contact with her father for over three years. ”

“She’s lying,” Boyce says, tone hardening. “I want her broken within two weeks. Do whatever you want to get her there. Mark her up, badly. Hell, you can even have fun with her the way I’m about to have some fun.”

My upper lip curls into a snarl. Neither Cain nor I are going to touch Scarlett like that. She’s not worthy of my hands, and besides, I like my women wet and wanting. Not bleeding and sniveling. I like them on their knees, eager to please and get generously rewarded—not broken and abused.

“How broken?” I ask.

“When we send her back to her father, I want bruises and scars all over her skin,” Boyce says. “Don’t cut anything off yet—leave that for the grand finale.” He chuckles to himself. “Get to work, boys, and keep me appraised.”

He heads over to torment the poor girl he paid for, so Cain and I take off. I don’t want to stick around to see Boyce get his micro-dick sucked by a woman he pays to pretend to like it.

“Isn’t it interesting how Boyce said he wants Scarlett Sharpe broken?” Cain remarks.

I glance at him, brows furrowed. I’m still working on getting the retina-burning images of doing something sexual with Scarlett out of my mind. “What?”

“After he asserted that she’s lying, he didn’t command us to get the truth.

” Cain clicks the button to the elevator.

“I pointed out that she insists she has nothing to do with her father, and though Boyce said that she’s lying, he told us to break her.

Not to get the truth out of her. Strange, don’t you think?

In his shoes, I’d demand that a captive be tortured until they talk—not that they be tortured until broken.

Not unless I have a personal vendetta against them, of course. ”

“Every single man in this compound has a personal vendetta against Scarlett,” I point out sharply. “She’s a monster. Killing her would be doing the world a favor.”

“The boys hate her because Boyce has them convinced that she killed Sam,” Cain says calmly. “They hate her on your behalf. I’m sure some of them hate her on account of her father, but I like to think we’re smarter than that.”

The elevator arrives soundlessly, and we step inside.

Both of our rooms lie in the winding halls of the fourth floor, but Cain hits the button for the ground floor.

“You almost sound like you believe her,” I hedge, staring hard at him.

He can’t believe her. He saw the same records and bank statements I did; he knows she’s lying through her teeth.

“I believe in pain,” Cain says. “I believe that it has the power to break the strongest man—or woman, as it were. I believe in my ability to wield pain as a hammer of truth, to be able to break someone in a matter of hours, if I’m in a rush.

Usually, most grown men who’ve been in this life a while would’ve broken by now.

There’s a reason taking finger and toenails is effective.

And yet, Scarlett repeats the same thing.

” He pauses thoughtfully. “While leaving some holes in the story, of course. If her father isn’t paying for her tuition, then who is? ”

“Her fucking father is,” I say loudly, cutting off Cain’s bullshit before it can grow legs and run away from him.

“Probably,” Cain says with a nod. “Almost certainly, considering what we’ve seen, but I won’t let the apparent facts blind me to possibilities.” The elevator opens on the ground floor, and Cain gives me a long gaze. “If Samuel were around, he’d advise you to do the same.”

I leave the compound late—so late that everyone else is probably asleep.

The only insomniac up at this hour is Maximus.

We pass each other on the fourth-floor hall, where both of our apartments reside, near the elevator.

His eyebrows raise as he looks me over. I’m dressed in dark clothes, carrying a jacket to keep me warm in the frigid temperatures outside.

“Hot date?” Max asks, offering me a sly smile.

He runs a hand through his red hair and flicks a quick glance over me.

His eyes are sharp, cataloguing every detail, and his muscles are tense.

Max might be a player and a bit of a trickster, but he’s also extremely observant.

Underestimating him is precisely what has led so many people to their deaths.

I don’t think Max will betray me or say anything to Boyce if I go out.

After all, I was the one who recruited Max two years ago, and he made his dislike for Boyce clear early on.

I know he’ll have my back if I tell him what’s going on, but I don’t want to put him in a position to have to lie.

In the Nighthawks, telling a lie to the wrong person is a fatal sin.

“You know it,” I say curtly. Max meets my gaze with a droll look, making it clear he doesn’t believe me.

Nevertheless, he says cheerfully, “Have fun. Try not to get too pussy-whipped.”

His shoulder lightly taps mine on his way down the hall. He knows I’m up to something, and he’s choosing to ignore it unless told otherwise. Good man .