Chapter 18: Chapter: 18

NICKLAUS

Andrea McCain was a hot little thing, innocent too. She had the body a man could spend eternity worshipping. I wanted to be that man, lay her down and feast on her. My own banquet.

As I stared at her earlier, my hand holding her soft, fragile hand, I have an epiphany: she and I are going to happen. And I have a suspicion we're going to be fucking explosive.

I watched my new PA, also known as temptation, walk out of my office, as my phone began to ring. I answered with my eyes fixed on the closed door.

“Sir Richard came into work approximately six minutes ago. Should we continue with the plan?”

“Good. And yes, proceed with the plan with caution. I will be there with you shortly.”

I hung up the phone and slipped on my long coat, the thought of my new PA momentarily forgotten in the face of what's about to go down. I walked out of the office, pulled out my phone, and dialed Mathew's number.

He picked up right after I pressed the button of the private elevator to take me to the underground parking lot.

“Matthew, forget what I asked you to do and come to the office now.”

“Yes, sir, I'm already on my way back.”

“How far away are you from the office?” I asked.

“I'll be there in five minutes, sir.”

“Good, keep the car running. I'll be down shortly.” I put the phone back in the inner pocket of my long coat. My hand grazed something cold, steel.

My Glock.

I always carry it with me. I'd never needed nor wanted bodyguards; I was more than capable of protecting myself.

But a few choices to save three people years ago saddled me with three loyal as fuck guards who had taken it upon themselves to protect me.

Logan, Lexi, and Crow were dangerous motherfuckers and one hundred percent loyal to me. They are among the few people I trust most. I consider them my inner circle.

I'm not a very trusting person; life has taught me that when you trust someone, you are vulnerable to them. By trusting them, you've armed them with the power to hurt you.

That's why I don't trust easily, and when I give my trust, you'll be damn sure that person has earned it. Even so, I don't trust people a hundred percent. I'm the only person I trust wholly and utterly.

I was barely out of the elevator when the screech of an SUV barreling toward me drew my attention, and then it parked. I strode to the car, opened the back-seat door, sat, and closed it with a loud thud.

The drive should have been two hours; Matthew had sped up like he was on the race track. Forty minutes later, he was parking the SUV in the deserted parking lot of the old warehouse.

Coming here at this hour is risky, but I didn't give a damn; I wanted to get answers from the fucker. Who had lied not just to the cops but had dared lie to me.

When I'd picked him up from his miserable life. I cleaned him up, gave him a purpose, a new job at my stepmother's and later at my company.

There was no excuse for his betrayal.

I walked into the warehouse alone, and with every step, the rage I had tightly leashed began to break free. I used the back door to get inside.

It took a few minutes to arrive at the basement. I'd asked Logan to keep him secure.

Richard had been tied and secured, blood dripping from different parts of his body. A duct tape had been slapped over his mouth, not that anyone could come to his rescue even if he screamed.

We're in the middle of nowhere, a location I'd personally chosen.

His small bloodshot eyes widened with shock when he saw me coming down the metal stairs. Then fear replaced the shock, he panicked and began to struggle trying to get free.

“How did everything go?” I asked, ignoring the little piece of shit.

“Smoothly, sir. He answered the call like you said he would. Lexi sent him the condo address, and he was there in no time. The rest was easy, the CCTV feed had been wiped clean, no one would be able to find his trace, even if they did, they wouldn't have any evidence of our involvement.” Logan answered calmly, as though he were stating the weather. I nodded, satisfied.

I didn't need all those details; this wasn't the first time we're doing this, the words were said to incite fear. But I get a sick satisfaction when my captives get scared.

Their fear is something I crave. As I'd experienced before, there's no greater motivator than fear, and I'm seldom wrong. Richard was frantic now, desperately trying to untie his hands.

I looked at him with disgust, as I surveyed the knives on the table beside him. Half of which were bloody from his torture session.

“Has he said anything yet?”

“No, he's trying to be tough.”

“Untie him,” I ordered calmly, adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream.

Crow came forward and cut away the binding on Richard's hands and feet while I took my time taking off my long coat and folding my sleeves.

Richard was free; he'd also remove the duct tape over his mouth. I'd told the guys to keep him mostly unharmed so he's not damaged when I do this.

The stupid fucker takes a few steps close to me, then he fucking opens his hole.

“Nicklaus, thank God you're here. I don't know what is going on, but whatever it is, I assure you, it's not true. I don't even know why I was kidnapped and brought here. Your guards have been asking me stupid questions about Meredith. I don't understand why they are asking me these questions. I've already told the police everything I know.”

“Is that the truth?” I asked calmly.

“Yes…I swear it. I will never lie to you.” I could smell the lie from a mile away.

“You've convinced me, Richard. So let's play a game,” I said, grinning darkly. He swallowed and glanced up at the exit. Like he could make it.

“What's the game?”

“If you fight me right now, I will let you go and even compensate you for your suffering. But if you lose or refuse to fight me. You're fucking dead man. Now, arms up and fucking fight me.”

Richard didn't believe I was serious. He was about to say something when I punched the breath out of him. His nose gave a satisfying crunch when my fist broke the cartilage.

I punched him again and again; his face was a mess in less than a minute. With the new realization that I was dead serious, he began to defend himself and try to deliver punches of his own.

But he was no match for me. I was born fighting, and I enjoyed it; I revel in it. Even if I didn't participate in and organize illegal underground fights, Richard wouldn't be able to beat me.

He was too soft, with his now fat face and rounded gut; he couldn't defend himself to save his own life. He was so pathetic and didn't look anything like the man he was two years ago.

With my rage leashed, I beat Richard bloody, delivering even punches that were controlled; he didn't deserve my full rage. Richard is just a puppet.

Who I really want is the man who was pulling his strings. I took my time pummeling him until his screams and begging made his voice hoarse.

And he'd still. And I was satisfied with the broken man before me, although not as satisfying as fighting someone who fought back.

He was bleeding all over and was now curled in a fetal position. I didn't regret beating him, nor do I feel sorry for him.

This man had paid my generosity with betrayal; he deserved more. And I would exact vengeance right after I get the information I need.