6. Sawyer
Chapter 6
Sawyer
In the morning, I slid open the door to the Dairy Barn, finding my brother, Wilder, and his second-in-command, Kyle, dressed in black, their clothes dampened with blots of liquid. Two bodies laid on the floor, one of which was in several large chunks. And in the last pen, a handcuffed man knelt to the side.
“Saved him for you,” Kyle said.
Always thoughtful.
“The Kingstons’ contract is secured,” I said.
“We heard.”
“Hatchcom Focus is threatening law enforcement,” Wilder said.
We had a few contacts within the police department that used our services in exchange for their cooperation. They wouldn’t dare get involved.
“Let them,” I said. I made eye contact with my brother. “But I need you specifically on the Kingstons’ livestock orders until we get rid of Hatchcom Focus. ”
“You got the Kingstons from Hatchcom Focus, then?” Kyle asked.
I grinned. Yes, I had stolen one of their biggest contracts. All it took was a little flattery and manipulation.
“I warned Roth what would happen,” I said.
Turning toward the pens, my eyes fell on the kneeling livestock order. He was tall, like me, but I was pure, fit muscle.
“And this one is from Tuddle?” I asked.
Kyle nodded. Tuddle wasn’t a big player, but our clients came from different backgrounds; we took smaller clients as long as they were willing to pay our standard fees. If I was personally interested in a case, I even considered giving a discount. But people were always desperate to seek our services; they always paid full price. In return, we didn’t ask questions, and sent our hunters to gather the livestock orders—the targets. Then, our ranchers took care of the torture and murder while each death was filmed for the client. Even the small ones, like Tuddle.
I quickly changed into the black uniform, then grabbed the machete out of the cabinet and made sure the cameras were rolling.
Hands bound behind his back.
That wouldn’t do.
I grabbed the dice from my pocket. Even, and he would get his hands back. Odd, and he would remain bound.
Even.
I unlocked his handcuffs, then put the machete between us, using my eyes to guide his gaze toward the blade. As soon as he moved, I raced forward, punching him in the face. He reached for the blade and I threw an elbow into his head, knocking him back to his knees. He swung his hands at my legs, making me stumble, but I grabbed the knife off of the floor, bringing it to the back of his neck.
One hack, then another. And another.
Done.
The blood soaked through my gloves. I squished the material between my fingers, then switched off the cameras. The hacked-up body was almost completely in the incinerator, but the other corpse lay on the floor. Once I had finished cutting Tuddle’s livestock order into manageable chunks, I transferred him to the incinerator too. Kyle scraped a shovel against the floor, scooping up the last remains, and my brother was at the side of the incinerator, analyzing the different temperature settings.
Going back to the pens, I examined the final body. A hand reached out and grabbed my leg. Immediately, I stomped my foot down onto his head, crushing through until it was flattened.
I cursed to myself. Wilder glanced over, but Kyle turned away.
“Is this one yours, Kyle?” I asked.
“Thought he was dead, boss,” he muttered.
“Get your shit together.” I grabbed the cleaver and went to work. Better to do it myself. Better to make sure it was done the right way.
The negotiations. The networking. The cover. The murders. And especially my game with Fiona.
After a shower, I headed to the New Host Library. Kyle’s slip-up had left me agitated, but a certain brunette would take my mind off of it. And now was the perfect time to check if she was playing our game according to my rules .
I opened the back entrance door. “Mr. Feldman,” Erica said, flagging me down. “Can I check my proposal draft with you?”
“Absolutely.”
She explained each section of the proposal. It was rough, but drafted enough. With training, she hadn’t had much time to work on it, but I trusted she would get it done.
“On the right track,” I said. “Develop the budget section and rework the objective.”
“Got it. Thank you!” she said.
And as for Fiona?
I motioned for her to come into my office. Her nose twitched, but once she was done with her task, she came to me.
“Close the door,” I ordered, and she obeyed. Then she stood behind the chair in front of me, making a point not to sit. Instead, she looked down at me.
She wanted to pretend like she had more power than me by standing up. How amusing.
“Have you begun working on your program proposal yet?” I asked.
“I have an essay due in my master’s program. And after training Erica?—”
I didn’t care about the program proposal, but I did want her body. “Spin for me,” I said. She froze, biting her lip. I gestured with a finger. “Show me.”
“Show you what? ”
“Show me what’s mine.”
She forced a smile onto her face. “I am not yours, Mr. Feldman.”
That was what she liked to think. But since I had laid my eyes on hers five years ago, she would always, always be mine .
Until I broke her. Then she would be free.
“We’ll see about that,” I said. “Spin.”
She huffed through her nose, then turned slowly, her arms crossed.
“Hands by your sides,” I instructed. She tugged at her clothes, her tight pants smooth across her ass. Her nipples poked through her shirt.
So she was playing, then. My dick twitched, but I wanted more.
“Show me your nipples and clit.”
She peeked cautiously at the window between the staff room and my office.
“Mr. Feldman, I?—”
I stood up, silencing her. I went to the window and closed the curtains. Then I looked down at her, her heat radiating to my body.
“Now, we have a game to play,” I said. She bit her lip, her hands twitching at the top button of her shirt. “You say you’ll die for your library, but you won’t even show me your tits and pussy.” My lips curled. “Is it an act, or do you truly want co-ownership?”
Her lips opened, her hand hesitating. She knew she wanted this.
“It’s only going to get harder, Fiona,” I said. “If you want the slightest chance at this library, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
She closed her eyes, her breathing hitched, then she unbuttoned her shirt, my eyes resting on that parting of fabric, the curve of her breasts hanging down like raindrops. Her fingertips quickly pulled back the sides of the fabric, exposing those pink nipples, a freckle above her left areola.
I licked my lips. It took every ounce of control not to pull her into my arms and suck them right then .
“Your clit, Fiona.”
She swallowed, her long neck pulsing with elegance. I imagined my cock inside of her as she tried to swallow, her throat squeezing my length. She unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, the backs of her hands brushing against my trousers. A tuft of hair on her pussy.
No bra. No panties. Such an obedient little plaything.
But the best part?
Dressed like this—me completely clothed and her undone—I had the power, and she knew it. Her cheeks flushed, the tint bleeding over to her neck.
I brushed the backs of my fingertips against the skin of her breasts. She sucked a sharp breath into her chest.
“Do you know how hard you make me?” I asked. She met my eyes. I grabbed my dick through my trousers, the backs of my hands skimming hers so that she could feel me touch myself. “I’ve been waiting for you. You’re so fucking hot like this. Barely clothed. Because you can’t help yourself, can you?”
Her pupils dilated. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She licked her lips.
“You can end this now,” I said. “Say those two words, ‘Please, Sawyer,’ and I’ll move on.” I pressed my lips to her ear: “You can earn your library the right way.”
Her eyes flashed with determination, a slight moment of lucidity in her deep arousal. But she stayed still.
“No,” she said. “I’m not scared of you. I’m going to win, Mr. Feldman.”
She had no idea who she was dealing with.
“Tell me you don’t like it,” I said.
“I don’t like it, Mr. Feldman,” she stuttered, enunciating my name, always repeating it, to remind herself that she couldn’t ever let herself go with me .
“Are you lying?” I asked.
She breathed, “Yes.”
My cock twitched.
“Touch yourself,” I said. “And tell me how much you don’t like it.”
Her hand shook as she reached between her legs, cupping her pussy. “I hate it,” she murmured.
“But it feels good, doesn’t it?” She didn’t say a word, but kept pressing her clit. “What is it about it that you hate, Fiona?” I asked. I leaned on the wall, towering over her. Teasing myself through my pants, I rubbed the head of my cock. “Is it the way I look at you? Is it knowing you do this to me? Is it the fact that you’re telling yourself that it’s for your library when we both know it’s not?” I licked her ear. “How much do you hate it?”
Her mouth dropped open. “So much,” she murmured, her fingers becoming frantic.
“That’s good. You wanted to work for it, and I intend to make you work for it, my little plaything.”
A shiver rolled down her spine, and I grabbed her hand, shoving her finger inside her pussy.
“Fuck yourself,” I said. “Fuck yourself for me.”
Unconsciously, she pressed into me and a bolt of sexual energy surged through my chest. I imagined taking her facedown over my desk until she couldn’t breathe.
I groaned in frustration. I’d have to wait. Encouraged, she thrusted faster, and I grabbed her hair in my fist, forcing her eyes to meet mine.
“Look at me,” I demanded. Her eyes traced me, but her movements quickened. “Do you want me to touch you, Fiona?”
She closed her eyes, then opened them wide. “Yes,” she cried .
“Then ask me.”
“Touch me,” she groaned, “Mr.—”
At that word, I let go. She stumbled, catching herself on my desk.
“That will be all, Fiona,” I said. I adjusted my pants as I took my seat. “Get to work on your proposal. I don’t like waiting.”
For a few seconds, she stood there. Her hair messy. Her clothing undone. Her cheeks red. Completely flustered. Then she quickly buttoned up.
“Thank you, Mr. Feldman,” she said, then left, raising her chin as she walked out of my office proudly, like she had won the game. She might have won this round, but she had fallen more than she realized. And soon, I would win. For now, I would let her think she still had power. Give her praise. Make her trust me. Then ruin everything she thought she wanted.
And then she would realize she was nothing.
I switched my computer on and checked my library email. Erica had sent a few questions about the managerial position and said that she was ahead of schedule with her youth program now.
Even without me, Fiona didn’t stand a chance.