ked his ass off through
college and got into publishing.
And now all of that’s fucked, fucked because of Grey
and his little bitch. He scowls at the house as if it
represents everything he despises. But there’s nothing
doing. The only drama had been the stacked, blond broad
in black, teetering down the driveway in tears before she
climbed into the white CLK and fucked off.
He chuckles mirthlessly, then winces. Fuck, his ribs.
He chuckles mirthlessly, then winces. Fuck, his ribs.
Still sore from the swift kicking Grey’s henchman
delivered.
He replays the scene in his mind. “You fucking touch
Miss Steele again, I’ll fucking kill you.”
That motherfucker will get it good, too. Yeah—get
what’s coming to him.
He settles back in his seat. Looks like it’s going to be
a long night. He’ll stay, watch, and wait. He takes
another toke of his Marlboro red. His chance will come.
His chance will come soon.
End of Part Two . . .