Voltage

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“Carter.” Killian’s hand locks around the collar of my shirt, yanking my ass off the chair. “Wake the fuck up.”

He’s in my face, shaking me. Yelling. Doing everything he can for me to snap out of it.

I have to. Except my rage is too violent. My rage has sent me into a state of shock.

They’re in there with Amara. Our Amara.

We’ve just watched the recap of her smiling at the camera after Christopher had, then Preston. I’d recognize their gait anywhere. Knowing everything about our members is a part of my job description.

The maddening feeling paralyzes me. Has my muscles locking up. Turns me into a statue.

My brain functions. I hear Killian calling my name. I’m aware that we have to charge up there and stop this whole…

What the hell is this?

When Luna called us from the security room, telling us flower girl was here, I thought she was hallucinating. The guy watching the security feed must’ve confused Amara with someone else.

But once I opened the feed on our phones then came here to see the recap with my own two eyes, I believed it.

“Carter, I’m giving you one second, then I’m gone,” Killian barks, his dark eyes now black. “Do you hear me?”

“You need me to join you, boss?” I hear Snake, who’d been called here.

“You? After this colossal fuckup?” Killian looks over his shoulder, his voice low and terrifying.

Snake is our new giant, bald, and tattooed head of security. Giant as in taller and far wider than either Killian and me.

He could snap Killian in half. Crush his skull with his boot.

He doesn’t. He flinches, bowing his head.

“After she left her shop and your guy wasn’t on her ass?” Killian snaps.

“Boss, I’m sorry, she must have—”

This isn’t typical Killian Snake’s talking to. Even in my frozen state, I see what his rage does to him. Killian has had a switch flipped inside him, transforming him into a killing machine.

His voice is venomous. His muscles flex, stretching his jacket. The vein in his neck bulges. He’s primed to murder someone or someones.

He also makes our connection to Amara really fucking evident.

And neither of us cares about appearance when she’s not safe.

“Don’t you dare blame her for your incompetence,” Killian’s roar shakes the walls of the small security office. “You’re staying here in case shit goes down. Then we’ll discuss if you still even have a job anymore. Carter!” Another bark.

With Amara gone, there’ll be no more sunrises. No crazy smiles to match mine. No one to cook dinners alongside Killian.

No one to squeeze between us at night.

No muffin. No Killie.

Un-fucking-acceptable.

My body jolts to life at that. I shake Killian off, eating up the space of the security office, and storm out the door. I hear Killian chasing me until he materializes at my side by the elevator.

They’re slow. Fucking useless.

“Stairs.” I swerve to the right, bursting through the door.

Killian’s right behind me. “What the hell is she doing up there?”

“What do you think?” We reach the second floor, not slowing for one fucking second. “She heard us. She heard we were being threatened, and now she’s taking matters into her own hands. With a hitman.”

I’m already making plans for after we rescue her—because we will.

Some hotels don’t have a thirteenth floor. We’ll close down the fifth.

“I knew it.” He doesn’t sound breathless as we reach the third floor. Just mad. Most likely at himself. At me.

Join the club.

“The Is this all you have to tell me? question.” I fish out Cyclone, snapping the blade out. “We should’ve known.”

Killian has his hand on our master keycard. Between my knife and his fists, we’re good to go.

“Why call them here, though?” he asks. We storm into the hallway of the fifth floor. “Why not our penthouse?”

Burn. Burn. Burn.I’m not leaving this floor unscathed. It has to go.

“They would’ve never showed up at our home. My guess is she wanted to end Christopher and gain our respect. Fierce little thing.”

I’ll spank her so hard. I know I will because she’s alive. She’s alive and unharmed. Has to be.

“We do respect her.”

“Of course we do, but she’s a stubborn-ass woman. She’s had it with being in our apartment. With how it’s us who gave her back her shop.” We round the corner, breaking into a run. Anything but to slow down and think about what they might be doing to her. “Then we kept the hotel a secret from her. It was the final straw. She’s had it with being dependable.”

“Makes sense.” There’s no venom in his voice. No I told you so. I’m not surprised. He’s the one who taught me to be that way.

Besides, we don’t have time for that. We’re here.

Killian passes his keycard and we push inside the room.

I’m an anaconda. Violent. Angry. Ready to strike.

I don’t.

Neither Killian nor I do.

We don’t have to.

“Carter, Killian.” Amara beams at us.

She has a gun in her grip—a motherfucking Smith Wesson. Amara’s pointing it at Christopher and Preston. The pathetic bastards kneel on the floor before her, their hands bound behind their backs. Both looking up at Amara, then at us.

Who is this woman?

Amara Grace Carmichael grew up sheltered. As much as her parents didn’t like her, they didn’t let her wander around. There was always someone to look after her. A driver, her apartment building’s security guy. The private schools she attended.

Later, when she moved to her apartment downtown, she trusted things would be fine. She didn’t even own pepper spray.

And now a gun?

I look at her, at this very perfect, psychotic moment. Beautiful in her neon green dress. Her hair is as wild as her brown glittering eyes.

Amara is the sexiest, most badass woman I’ve ever come across. Her unconventional way of handling our secret is the sickest, hottest thing.

She’s our cute, compliant woman. Our adorable, dirty little cum slut.

But this part of her… Damn, I wouldn’t mind letting her roleplay every once in a while.

How could I ever think she’d hate what we do for a living?

I’m in love all over again. A teenager with hearts in my eyes.

“Amara, beautiful girl, we hear you loud and clear.” Killian outstretches his arm for her. Not for the gun. It doesn’t scare him. He wants Amara to be happy, to feel loved. “You know about the hotel. About us. And you’re strong enough to handle all of it. We shouldn’t have doubted you.”

He doesn’t care if anyone finds out about us anymore. First, he unleashed the beast in him in front of everyone in the security room. Now this.

Obviously, neither Preston nor Christopher will be getting out of here alive. They won’t gossip.

However, something tells me Killian would’ve said the exact words no matter what.

He wants her safe. He wants to be her protector. He wants her in his arms.

I want these things too.

And these assholes keep staring at her as if she’s on the menu.

“It’s okay. I understand why you kept it a secret.” She wags the gun as she speaks, and Preston lets out a pleasured groan.

“You shut the fuck up,” I snap. I don’t move, though. Don’t come at him. I enjoy watching her like this way too fucking much. “Eyes on the floor, both of you.”

They obey, and Amara continues, “I needed you to see you don’t have to hide things from me. I love killing the bad guys. I love that you own them, that everyone respects you here. Thing is, if I said that, you wouldn’t have believed me. So I did this.” She smacks Christopher’s head with the barrel of her pistol, giggling when he winces. “Now you see me. And you’re free to end their lives. I can’t wait.”

I bite on my bottom lip while playing with Cyclone. I can’t wait either. Can’t wait to hear more of what she has to say. Can’t wait to see her pistol-whip them again.

“We do see you.” Killian opens up his other arm, beckoning her to him. “Come here, love. We’ll take care of them.”

“No, no, no. You stay right there, pet.” My voice is hoarse. “You look hot as shit. Don’t move.”

“Thank you, muffin.” She sends me an air kiss with the hand holding the gun. “I’ll stay if you promise they’ll suffer. He”—Amara waves the gun at Christopher—“threatened to kill us. I heard you last night.”

“We figured you did.” Killian shoots her a rare half-smile.

“You’re fucking smiling, Killian?” Christopher growls when he hears Killian’s amusement. “You never—”

The humiliated hitman doesn’t finish his sentence. I step up behind him, kicking his back. He collapses to the floor, right on his face.

He growls in pain. I smile.

“This one”—my little pet ignores us, gesturing at Preston—“he tried to rape me.”

Killian and I step toward Preston. Her words make it so neither of us is entertained anymore. Killian punches him in the nose. I’m quick to grab the sobbing man by the hair and press Cyclone’s shiny blade to his ear.

“You did what, fuckface?” While I talk, I slide the knife down, slicing into his ear. Starting to peel it off his ugly face.

“Ooh, he’s peeing, Carter.” Amara jumps up and down.

I shoot a glance at her, winking even before I check on the gun. When I do, I find she aims the barrel to the floor. So considerate, our woman.

“Can I kick him?” She bats her eyelashes at me, then Killian. “Please?”

Killian barks a laugh, stepping aside, giving her what she’s asked for.

“Have at it.” I hold him in place for Amara.

“No,” Preston, with his half ear cut off, cries. “Help.”

Christopher turns to his side, wiggling his body to where a broken vase shard is. Amara must have used it to neutralize the men.

“No, you don’t.” Killian rounds Amara and is on Christopher in a matter of seconds, crushing the hitman’s head with his shoe. “Stay, dog.”

He does. He has no other choice.

“My turn?” Amara looks at me expectantly.

“Yes, baby.”

The words barely leave my lips before Amara kicks Preston in the balls.

“Ow!” Preston mewls, trying to fold in half to shield himself.

“Good girl.” I straighten Preston for her a second time. His ear, half connected to his head, jiggles with the movement. “More?”

“Nope.” She places her hands on her hips, the gun still pointing down. “You two do it. This is the final part of my plan, so…do your thing.”

“I’m sorry. It was all Christopher.” Preston’s chin wobbles, slobber running down his chin. Chickenshit snitch. “He said the cunt asked for—”

I cut off his ear in its entirety. Straight through. His screams are music to my ears. Amara’s wide grin is one big dose of serotonin shot into my veins. As is Killian’s approving look.

“Why? Why?” Fueled by his terror, Preston manages to free himself from the shoelace Amara has tied around his wrists.

I hadn’t noticed she used her shoelaces to tie them up. Now I do, and fuck, how my cock jerks at the new images that flash before me. Her pointing her gun at them so they’d remove them from her sneakers. Making one man tie the other than doing the job herself.

“Carter!” she yelps while I’m lost in the fantasy.

Blinking, I watch as Preston grabs the gaping hole. He wretches, his last meal gushing from his mouth to his shirt.

“You’re not getting away.” I restrain his hands, pulling him up. “Never.”

“Give me my ear back.” His wails are garbled with all the puke still in his mouth. “Please, give it back. Let me go.”

“Would you look at this guy?” My hands are on Preston, but my gaze dances between Amara and Killian. “Thinks he’s getting out of here. Or getting a swift, merciful death.”

“No,” Amara growls.

Killian reaches out for her hair, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’m falling in love with you all over again.”

Her pout morphs into a toothy grin. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Killian stands in all his glory on top of Christopher. “Are we forgiven?”

“I’m not mad,” Amara answers him over Preston’s shrieks. “I figured you’d been protecting me from this life. That you thought I’d leave you. I can’t be mad at that.”

Then she whips her head back and forth between us, baring her teeth. “No more secrets, though.”

“No more,” Killian promises.

Preston’s screams start to ruin the moment. I throw him on the floor, using a wipe from my pocket to clean my trusty Cyclone and shove it in my pants pocket.

I bend to grab his ear, haul him back up to me, and stuff it into his screaming mouth. My hand slams his nasty lips shut, and I don’t care. I have more wipes to clean the fucker off me.

“No more,” I tell Amara, more pacified now.

“Thank you.” Amara sighs.

Preston gags and gags, fighting to spit his ear out. However, with my hand plastered on his mouth, it’s highly unlikely his ear is going anywhere.

“We would’ve come clean eventually. Swear.” My whole body works hard to restrain Preston. But my face is soft. For her and Killian. “I had a cage ordered for our old room, in case you tried to run once we did.”

“Baby.” She drops the gun, speeding toward me. She almost tackles me and Preston to the side as she throws her hands around my neck. “It’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever done for me.”

“I’m happy you’re happy, beautiful girl.” Killian joins us, caressing her messy hair. “You’re so special. So very special.”

His dark eyes dart to mine. He’s amused and turned on in equal measures. Of course he is. He’s thinking about caging me there alongside Amara.

I don’t hate that idea. Don’t hate it at all.

“This is the nastiest grooming, twisted shit I’ve ever seen,” Christopher utters. “No wonder you’ve been keeping it a secret. Sick fucks.”

Crack.

Killian bashes the unbroken vase into Christopher’s head. Water and flowers spill over his face and he coughs and groans from the pain.

“You’d do well to refrain from calling me a pedophile.” Killian leans in close to Christopher’s face who wriggles, trying to break free. “I won’t be as forgiving as Carter. If you mess with me, you’ll be chewing on your ear. You’ll be taking hearty bites on it before swallowing.”

Christopher has the brains to shut up. His eyes are still full of rage, an issue Killian appears extremely keen to fix.

“You’re angry, huh?” Killian hoists Christopher up to his knees, twisting his body to face Amara. “Imagine how we feel. Finding you here, hearing you planned a gang rape in our hotel. Can’t say I’m pleased, Christopher.”

It’s the only type of criminals we don’t let in. Sexual offenders. Murderers, drug dealers, white-collar douchebags—we let them in, happily.

Child molesters, rapists, human traffickers—we don’t simply deny their application. We make them disappear. It’s been three years since we had any of those monsters apply.

“She’s the one who asked me to fuck her,” Christopher dares to repeat what the now-vomiting Preston had. “She contacted me. It was all her.”

Killian delivers three hard blows to Christopher’s cheek and jaw.

Another wave of Preston’s puke runs down my hand. I’m not squeamish, so it’s easy to leave my hand right where it is for a little over ten seconds. When I’m sure some of his vomit went back down his throat, I throw him on the floor.

While he hurls his ear and more of his stomach contents, I rise to my feet, fishing for another wipe. I always have two or three there. Just in fucking case.

After I clean myself from Preston’s saliva and vomit, I turn to Amara.

“That’s how you lured him?” Killian beats me to the question. “With sex?”

“It’s hot as hell, but Amara, what were you thinking? You could’ve been hurt.” I pounce on her, my hand grabbing the side of her neck. “They could’ve grown a pair and attacked you despite the gun. We might’ve missed you on the cameras.”

“I had to lure him here, somehow.” She smooths down her dress, calm and confident and magical. “I told him I was after revenge sex in your hotel. To make you mad. It worked. This isn’t even a real gun, and they still fell for it. Cool, right?”

Jesus fucking Christ. A plastic gun.

I’m furious. I’m two seconds from thrusting her into the cage for a full month to teach her a lesson.

I’m also throbbing in my pants. My piercing grazes my boxer briefs. Her willingness to run headfirst into danger and actually loving it… Damn.

“You are by far…” I wipe my filthy hand on my jacket, gripping her chin and tilting her head up to me. “The most deviant, perfect little thing. I’m dying to fuck you. Be inside you. Anywhere in any hole. If you tell me you want my dick in your ear, baby, that’s where I’ll put it.”

“What the fuck?” I hear Christopher behind me.

Next, the sound of Killian’s fist connecting to his face echoes in the room. Such a satisfying crunch.

Preston, unlike his associate, doesn’t make a sound. He’s dead. Has to be.

I don’t care about either of them. I’m waiting for Amara’s response. She’s studying me, breaking from my hold to give Killian the same scrutiny.

When she seeks my gaze again, specks of gold glitter in her brown eyes. “I’ll remember your ear promise, Carter.”

“Where can I fuck you, then?” I move my free hand to her back, pressing her to me, grinding my cock to her stomach. “Don’t keep me waiting, pet, or I’ll take you however I fucking please.”

Killian growls, turned on from watching us. From the smell of blood and the gore around us. Just like me. And apparently, just like Amara.

“Kill him first.” She moans while jerking her head to Christopher. “I’ll wait naked for you two.”

I twist my head to Killian and the wide-eyed, bleeding Christopher. He’s seen some messed-up shit in his life. At least he thought he had. Until he met us. The realization fills me with an immense sense of pride for the people we are.

“Security will get antsy soon,” Killian warns, though his hungry gaze means he doesn’t give a shit about anyone barging in.

“Too bad.” Amara winks at him. “I guess that means you’ll have to kill him fast.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Killian crouches to grip Christopher by the hair, raising and bashing his head against the floor for the millionth time today.

Blood splashes onto Killian’s shoes. I bet Christopher’s brain has turned to mush.

I can’t take my eyes off Killian. From the way he looks at Amara and how he changes before us the longer Christopher grunts in pain. Kill’s expression darkens, reminding me of the sickness I recognize in myself.

The lust is there, sure. That’s not all, though. The need to draw blood is there. Inflict pain. Play with his toys.

“Then again, fuck the shoulds.” Killian reaches for a large, sharp shard from the broken vase on the floor, his lips hiking to the side. “We’ll barrel the door. I’m owed this vengeance.” He yanks Christopher’s head so the pale-eyed man stares death right in the eye. “You threatened me. You threatened my stepson. You threatened Amara. That’s three strikes, you miserable lowlife. You’re done.”

Fuck, I don’t want to get in his way. But another second of me not sinking my teeth into either him or Amara, and I’ll lose my fucking mind.

Since Killian’s busy, our beautiful lady it is.

She cries out the same moment Christopher does.

Only difference is that the former enjoys herself.

The latter is being stabbed by Killian.

My teeth are fixed into Amara’s shoulder over her O scar, my gaze and Amara’s never leaving Killian. As he lifts the shard, shoves it into Christopher’s temple, further and further until it comes out on the other end. Through his eye.

Christopher’s eyeball pokes out, his body convulsing. The hitman foams at the mouth, trembling uncontrollably in Killian’s hold. A delicious sucking sound wafts into my expectant ears when Killian pulls out the shard.

Amara clutches at my shoulders, her fingernails digging into my biceps. “Please, Carter. Let me see.”

I give her what she’s begging for, letting go of her shoulder and manhandling her until she has a good view of Killian. Her ass presses to my cock, my arms are wrapped around her middle.

“Do you like it, pet?” I say loud enough for Killian to hear. For me to realize that it’s real.

Our lady has turned out to be a blend of Killian, me, and of course herself. Beautifully sick, angelic, and perfect.

“Yes,” she whimpers, gripping my hand and bringing it to her pussy. She’s hot, her thighs clenching.

Killian acknowledges us by throwing us a devious glance. Then he finishes what he started, hoisting Christopher in the air and flipping his body so the asshole lies on his other side.

Emptiness glares back at Amara and me behind Christopher’s eye. Crimson, thick blood gushes from where Killian stabbed him. Amara moans, wriggling in my hold. Making my cock leak with precum.

“That what you want?” Impatience takes hold of me, and I haul the skirt of her dress up, finding her panties soaked. “Your pussy touched while Killian’s over there killing the man who dared threaten you?”

“Please.” She turns her head to me, her desperate lips seeking mine.

With my free hand, I push her pretty face back to Killian. I shove her panties to the side, brushing my thumb on her clit once, twice, before squeezing mercilessly, causing her to jolt.

“And you thought she’d break up with us.” Killian smirks, watching us as he’s holding the shard in his hand like some goddamn medieval warrior.

“I had no idea I liked it, but I do. Now, I want more,” Amara confesses, her voice breathy.

Kinda hard to talk when I drag two fingers in and out of her cunt. When my thumb touches her the way she likes.

“You’ll get more, beautiful girl.” Killian obeys her command, lifting his hand to strike Christopher’s other temple.

The shard is sharp. Killian is murderous. Both work in his advantage, and Christopher’s skin bends to Kill’s will. Christopher’s blood splatters on every inch of his face, his hair falling on his forehead.

Amara’s orgasm pummels through her body, and she shudders in my grip.

They’re both perfect. So fucking perfect.

And once Christopher stops breathing, I have them and the room all for myself.