Pain flares in my chest, and red spills into my vision. Before I can think better of it, I swing my arm, aiming the butt of the gun in Vincent’s face, pistol-whipping him. He stumbles back at the blow, just barely, and when he moves his hand away from his mouth, I see the blood trickling there. A small sense of satisfaction seeps into my veins.
“Look at you now,” he praises, chuckling with blood smeared across his front teeth. Vincent steps into me, and before I have a chance to do anything but stand there completely frozen, he halts in front of the gun. Gripping the weapon, he shoves it into his chest, the barrel resting over the place his heart is supposed to be. Vincent leans into me, his hands going to the wall behind me, each arm caging me in on either side of my head. “So full of rage. So broken,” he breathes, leaning into my space. Something dark lurks at the edges of his eyes, damn near flaying my skin off.
“I’ll kill you.”
“Do it then, baby. Take your shot, right here, right now,” he taunts, hovering his mouth over mine. Anger boils in my stomach, prompting a hot tear to slide down my cheek. It would be so simple. I can pull the trigger right here and finally free myself and my sister, but I can’t do it. I can’t bring myself to do it, and it’s causing hot tears of frustration to fall in torrents.
Vincent leans into me, his face resting against mine. Pain ripples through my chest, and my stomach revolts when he licks my cheek, tasting my tears. I flinch away from him, my chin quivering as I work to keep the impending sobs at bay.
“You look so much like her,” he whispers, pulling back just enough that he’s able to look down at me. I swallow thickly as we stare at each other, hateful tension filling the air. Memories from the past flash before me, and before I realize I’m doing it, my finger tightens on the trigger, and I’m just about to pull it when Vincent is shoved back.
It all happens so fast. The blur of bodies. The blur of fists colliding. A gasp flies past my lips when my arm is twisted at an ungodly angle, and I let out a cry of pain. A rough hand slaps over my mouth, silencing me, and I’m suddenly yanked away.
Colors blur before me, and I feel disoriented. My back gets slammed up against a wall, someone’s hand going to my throat. I choke, fighting against the unforgiving grip. When the person’s face comes into view, I freeze, my eyes widening.
“What the fuck are you thinking?” Baz hisses, getting into my face. His grip is tight and unrelenting, cutting off my air supply. “Are you fucking stupid?” he seethes, slamming me back against the wall for good measure. A quick glance around tells me he’s dragged me outside, into the hall. The music is loud. All I would need to do is get to the stairs to get away.
I start to fight him. I buck against his hold on me, straining for breath.
“Calm the fuck down,” he grits.
We both pause, staring at one another, and his grip loosens, allowing me to breathe. We glare at one another, our eyes saying all the things we can’t. Tension suddenly fills the air, clouding the space between us.
“You said you were done.”
“I lied.”
“If you do this, you’ll lose your chance. You’ll never get that happiness you want so damn badly. You understand that, right? You’ll lose everything.”
“I don’t care!” I yell.
“I told you I was handling it,” he seethes, the anger written all over his face.
“You lied to me! I heard you on the phone the other night. It just proves I can’t trust you.” There’s a pang in my heart. “He deserves to die for what he did to me.”
Baz’s face pulls taut with pain and something that looks a whole lot like fear. “That’s not for you to decide, Mackenzie.”
My eyes narrow. How can he say that? Of course, it’s for me to decide. I was the victim, the one who was sent to a mental institution in pieces. I’m the one who bears all the scars from that night. Anger surges through my veins the more I think about it. “Get off me.”
He steps closer, pressing me into the wall. I hate that a part of me softens at his closeness. I miss his smell. I hate that I miss the warmth of his body. It’s only been a few days, so I should not feel this level of abandonment from that short amount of time. The way he’s pressing me into the wall, the way he’s towering over me, penetrating my orbit—I miss him. I miss him so much it makes me lash out.
Jerking in his hold again, I try to shove him away, but I’m no match for his strength. He doesn’t even jostle or move at my attempt, just keeps me trapped beneath him. His hand shoots up to my face, gripping my cheeks like a vise, forcing me to look at him. I stop fighting.
Something tugs between us, that goddamn current of electricity, drawing us together. A beat passes, then another, before his mouth is on mine. The kiss is rough and angry. I dig my nails into his skin, tug him closer to me, and sink my teeth into his bottom lip until he grunts in pain. My damp clothes stick to my body, and my cold skin pressed against his hot skin has me moaning into his mouth. He digs his hand in my hair, tugging at the soaked strands, angling my mouth and head where he wants me and then devours me.
My lust for this man and the way I feel about him make me act out and get angry. I pound my fists against him, pushing him away. He lets me push him this time, his bottom lip trickling with blood from my ministrations.
We both stand there, chests heaving and lips red with the roughness of the kiss. I don’t know how it happens, but I’m kissing him again, raking my hands through his hair, tugging on the ends until he’s slamming me back up against the wall and taking my lips with a violent possession that’s feeding the darkness swirling inside of me as of late.
It feeds the manic thoughts.
The chaos churning in my brain.
He’s the medicine I didn’t know I needed.
I feel his erection, and my core throbs in eager anticipation, dying to feel him inside me. It’s been too long. I miss him. Every part of him. I rake my nails down his chest, trying to work his pants off, but he halts me. His grip tightens around my wrists, keeping me from touching him.
Slowly, he backs away, staring down at me. He walks away, his gait stiff and angry. Much to my displeasure, I realize he took my gun with him.
I don’t know how I knew she was up to no good, but I had a feeling when Marcus called me to tell me she had left the resort. At first, I thought she was seeing that little shit again. I still need to pay him a visit because, apparently, my first visit didn’t leave a lasting impression.
When I called her and she didn’t answer, it only threw up even more red flags for me. I had no idea where she was, and when she turned off her phone to purposely remain hidden, it scared the absolute shit out of me. Anything could’ve happened to her. With the way things are going with the rest of the guys, there is no telling what they will do if they run into her.
She is staying at the resort with me for a reason. I need her close, so I can protect her and have eyes on her at all times. Hearing she was at the club at the same time Vincent was nearly gave me a heart attack. In hindsight, I probably should’ve told her they were here, but this is what I was trying to avoid—her interference. I am trying to get to the bottom of this, and I am doing everything I can to protect her from them without raising any red flags, but if she keeps intervening, I won’t be able to help her.