His Brutal Game by Audrey Rush
CHAPTER 17
Wilder
A few nights later, a low pulse thumped through my body, making every hair stand on end. Energy swirled inside of me. I waited inside of my car, staring into the house of my next kill, the second out of three on the Feldman Trial’s list before the farm was mine. Once it was under my control, I could decide what happened to Maisie. I broadened my shoulders, then I relaxed. Jim Lander drank from a glass, his lips pressed to the rim, his shadow illuminated in the window, listening to his wife. One of the most guarded places in our area, a man my father had rivaled for a long time. The creator of Hatchcom Focus. He had sold it a few years back. Two guards outside of the gate, four that I could see within.
With my new goal in mind, I was determined. This was nothing I couldn’t handle.
I set up my sniper rifle with a silencer on the roof of a neighboring house, keeping my footsteps light. I aimed at the first guard’s head, the bullet as soft as a bubbling brook. The other guard started to turn, but I shot him too.
At the gate, I switched to my machine gun and used a hacking device to open the gate. As soon as the lock clicked open, the four guards fired at me. I shot them all, then threw a smoke bomb, fogging the target’s vision. He wouldn’t be able to see outside.
A woman screamed.
“Get to the safe house!” Lander called. He armed himself. They scrambled down the stairs to their basement, searching for safety. If they got inside, there was a chance I wouldn’t be able to complete my mission. But all I saw was Maisie. More guards attacked me but my automatic bullets shot across the room, ripping into the remaining guards, the wife howling, hiding behind her husband. I shot the gun out of his hands, then immediately grabbed my knife, stabbing him in the thigh. He fell to his knees. I swung my gun into his forehead, rendering him unconscious
His wife screamed. I hit the back of my gun into her mouth. She shut up, whimpering to the side. I dragged her unconscious husband by his neck through the house.
The wife howled. “You can’t do this!” she screamed. “The cops are coming. You can’t. You can’t—”
I shot an array of bullets into her forehead. She fell to the ground.
I threw Jim Lander into my car, then called Kyle to assemble our cleanup crew. Lander stirred to the side of me, moaning in pain. I sped back to the farm, driving through the grass until I pulled up in front of the main house. I yanked Lander through the grass, up to the front door, into my father’s office. I dropped Lander at Forrest’s feet.
I slit the man’s throat, letting the blood pool on my father’s floor. Forrest peered down at his rival. A grin spread across Forrest’s lips.
He had made it clear where I had stood as a child, but now I was showing him how far I had come. I was better than him.
Forrest opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say another word, I exited the room, driving the SUV through the property, finding the main road. Though I had never formally agreed to it, I planned on keeping Maisie’s request.
The lights were on in the motel room, the curtain shades glowing. I knocked. Footsteps tapped behind the door, but nothing opened.
“What do you want?” Bambi asked, her voice muffled by the barrier.
I pulled out my wallet, hoping that she could see me through the peephole. Finally, the door cracked open, the door guard’s chain hanging down, holding it together. I offered her all the money that I had. She took the money, then glared at me, eyeing the blood on my clothes. A man was lying on the bed behind her, watching television. There was a chance that Bambi had been helping her pimp steal from the farm. There was even a good chance that she had disrespected us, but that didn’t matter. Neither did the money they stole. Only murder mattered.
And Maisie.
“What do you want?” Bambi repeated. She wrinkled her nose. I glared at the man one more time, his eyes glued to the screen, his posture relaxed. He wasn’t a threat to her.
I headed back to the car.
“Hey!” Bambi said. “Wait—”
By the time I was reversing out of my spot, Bambi’s door was completely open. She gawked at me as I drove off. I couldn’t let myself think about it. I had done what Maisie had asked; that was all it was.
Forrest stood in the parking area when I arrived. I slammed on my brakes, almost hitting him.
“You gave me no time to congratulate you,” he said.
I grunted, then headed toward the Calving Barn. I wanted to get home to see Maisie, but I didn’t want my father around when I did. I didn’t want him to know anything about us. I saw the new hay bales in a stack by the office door. I moved the tractor out of the way. Forrest followed behind me.
“Congratulations on the second kill,” he said, his tone stiff. “You’ll get your final kill soon.”
“Looking forward to it,” I said. I kept working.
“Are you ready for the Offering to prove your loyalty to the family?” Forrest put a hand on my shoulder. “You know what I had to give up to make sure that our family’s business prospered.”
My mother.
But if I won the farm, then I wasn’t going to do anything to let Maisie out of my hands.
Was I ready for the Offering? To take it down, to show Forrest exactly what I thought of our family’s rituals?
“Yes,” I said.
Another wide-spreading grin filled his face. He rambled about Sawyer’s progress, how we were both on our final kills, and how that meant that we would compete for our last kills at the same time. And that thrilled Forrest. I tuned him out. I had done my part, and when the time came to take the last person, I would do what needed to be done.
Once Forrest left the barn, I immediately dismissed my crew and headed to the house. The couch where I usually found Maisie was empty. I went to our bedroom—she wasn’t there either.
She emerged from her old bedroom wearing one of my flannel shirts, unbuttoned, loose on her frame, the fabric brushing against her nipples. Her lips were dark, her cheeks flushed. With her hands clasped behind her, she arched her back, pushing her breasts forward. I licked my lips.
“Bear with me,” she said. My brows twitched and she smiled. “Don’t hate me for this, okay?”
She took her hands out from behind her back: a pair of handcuffs hung from her finger, the metal chain gleaming in the light.
“Hear me out,” she said. She stepped closer, dragging a hand along my chest. “You’re afraid of losing control with me, right?” She tilted her head, then pointed into her old room. A metal folding chair rested in front of the bed. She had been planning this, then. “I could handcuff you. Then I would be in control. You wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”
My lips turned up.
She wanted to be in control of a beast.
“They’re handcuffs,” she continued. “There’s no way you’re getting out of locking metal.”
My eyes traced her neck, the bare skin between her breasts, her soft stomach, down to the feathered hair covering her pussy. My cock swelled.
I didn’t have to get out of the restraints, as long as I had her.
I took three large steps forward. Undressed. Leaned back in the chair. Maisie circled me, swaying her hips like she had to work to entice me, when she already had me ensnared. Her odor filled my nostrils: that musk, her natural scent, so damn intoxicating. Her breasts hung down as she cuffed my hands in front of me. The links clicked into place, resting against my wrists. She must have thought she had so much power right then. That I was vulnerable for once. But I knew what I wanted. My eyes focused on her.
She left the room, my cock straining for her. A few seconds later, she returned with a bucket in her hands. She set it down beside me. Pouted her dark lips. Then straddled my thighs, easing my cock inside of her. Slow. Agonizing. Gasping at my size. Already wet for me. I clenched my jaw, keeping myself in check. This was her time. She bent down—my cock throbbing inside of her for more—then she grabbed the bucket and poured it over our heads. The cool water splashed over our bodies and I pulled at the restraints, but once my eyes focused on her, I held still. Water beaded her skin, my shirt drenched and clinging to her, her nipples erect. She licked her lips, staring down at mine.
Holding the back of my neck, she kissed me gently, her pussy squeezing as she moved up and down. Both of us completely transfixed. Our mouths were hot, our skin chilled. I inched my fingers closer to her, aching to brush her glistening clit, and a sly smile crossed her face. She retreated slightly; she thought she had me locked into place. I held my jaw tight and she put her soft hands around my throat.
“Not yet,” she whispered.
Everything inside of me was all about Maisie. The woman I should have never wanted. The woman who had somehow destroyed my sense of self. Who had made me hers. The air conditioning blasted against us. Maisie shivered, her pussy blazing. I wanted to wrap my arms around her back, to feel her body tremble against me. I held still, letting her fuck me, letting her take control, letting go of the one thing I thought I would never give up—but this time, I had surrendered without a fight. All for one taste of her. She knew the price of what I wanted, but she was so much more than I could anticipate. And there was more that I wanted to take from her.
Her pussy quivered around me as her breath caught in her throat. I growled. She smiled again, that devilish grin, knowing that she was torturing me. Giving me a first time that would make me explode.
“Not yet,” she said again.
Fuck that. I wanted her.
I swung my arms up, still restrained by the cuffs, twisting around her until my bound wrists cupped her ass, carrying her, then laid her down on the bed. Her mouth gaped open. Maisie wanted to please me. To do this for me. It might have been purely to get my father’s money, but those details didn’t matter. Because I wanted Maisie, and I trusted her.
She lifted her back, letting my arms pull free. With the cuffs still around my wrists, I climbed on top of the bed, mounting her, shoving my cock inside with a jagged thrust, the links between the cuffs pulled across her neck. She sucked in a breath, her muscles tensing, her body cold against me. Struggling for breath. She threw her head from side to side, wanting so badly to breathe, her face purple, her cunt sucking the life out of me. I bared my teeth, waiting for that exact moment when she couldn’t deny it anymore. When her pussy tried to crush me—in fear, in pain, in nervousness, in complete and utter destruction—I relaxed my hold, letting her breathe, and fucked her, beating into her cervix. Her stifled moans filled my ears, but I didn’t stop. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t if I tried. Not until she was filled with me.
I rammed my hips forward, my elbows straining above her head, and I fucked her until tears ran down the sides of her face, the bruise from the cuff links faint on her neck. Sex didn’t interest me in the way it fueled others. But when it came to Maisie, she was mine, and I was going to take her exactly how I wanted. Her walnut brown eyes met mine, full of pain and lust and respect and emotions I didn’t understand, but I knew Maisie felt them for me. Only me. And I felt them for her.
I came inside of her, letting myself rip through her, each pulse destroying me, knowing that I would never be the same. None of this was supposed to happen. But Maisie had conquered me.
I collapsed on the side of the bed next to her. She took a deep breath, her face red, sweat dripping down her face. The bed was soaked with us. We panted in the silence.
A shy smile came across her face. She pulled herself up, then inched off of the bed, peeling off the flannel shirt and finding the key on the windowsill. She unlocked my cuffs, and as soon as they were off, I pulled her into my arms. I wasn’t done yet, but I wanted to warm her right then.
“Let’s go to bed,” I said.
She clutched her stomach, then nodded.
Hours later, when we had finally fallen asleep, my phone rattled on the nightstand. A message had come in from the secure messaging app, which meant that it was my brother or father. Maisie stirred beside me. I buried my face in her neck. I could leave the message until the morning.
But that was never a good idea with my family.
I checked the message. It was from Forrest. Everything went still. I reread the message again, and again, making sure that I had read the words correctly, that there hadn’t been an error. But it made sense. I should have expected it from the beginning.
Your last kill, my father wrote, is Sawyer Feldman.