12
Broadway
I stare at my hard cock, two wrinkles denting my forehead.
This is so not the time.
How long has this boner been gracing me with its presence? Since I hauled Violet into my arms? Since her warm breath fanned my neck? Since I curled her into me on the back seat of the G Wagon? Fuck knows, but it takes five minutes of imagining all the unsexy things I can conjure before the blood retreats.
Water drips from my hair as I shimmy into a pair of black jeans and a matching long-sleeved t-shirt. In a show-worthy display of anger, I ram my feet into my boots, tossing the damp towel into the open hamper. The lid won’t snap shut, so I drag out the offending piece of fabric, ball it up, and hammer it back inside.
Oh the drama. I couldn’t be less pathetic if I tried. Maybe if I stomped my foot and crossed my arms.
Tempting, but no.
I head back downstairs, passing Koby on his way up.
“She’s awake,” he says. “She freaked out big time, but Hailey calmed her down. Ryder just got here.”
He pauses, scrutinizing me in silence, his mouth falling open but words not arriving. What is it with everyone staring at me today? Have I got something on my face? I just fucking showered.
Swallowing whatever he wanted to say, he slaps my shoulder and carries on up the stairs.
With a deep, centering breath, I make my way into the living room, where Ryder stands behind the couch, gently combing Violet’s hair over one shoulder.
My ribs cave in on themselves. The air I just inhaled leaving me in a sharp gush... he’s too close. He’s way too fucking close and he’s touching her.
“What are you doing?” I snap, my chest rising and falling faster, violence seeping into my bloodstream.
Violet looks up, her wide, tired, and panicked eyes meeting mine. She quickly looks away, focusing on the steaming cup waiting on the coffee table.
“Seizing my opponent,” Ryder shoots back, bending lower to investigate the collar.
Not even thirty seconds later, he straightens up with a heavy sigh. It’s quite fucking sad that I know him so well I can distinguish his moods based on how he exhales. I can tell I’m not going to like what he says.
“The remote you brought won’t open this,” he says, running a hand down his face before reaching for a USB cable. He connects a port on the back of the collar to his laptop, then starts furiously tapping away. “Yeah... I thought so,” he mutters, sinking into the nearest loveseat. “I need a key or a passcode. The remote only controls the range. It’s set on auto now. I can change the settings, give Violet more freedom, but without the key, the only way to disengage this is an eight-digit passcode.”
“How much more freedom?” Carter asks.
It almost sounds like he’ll hold on to the remote to keep Violet under lock and key.
I know he doesn’t mean it that way—and even if he does, it’s for her safety—but the question rubs me the wrong way and my temper rears its head once more.
“We can just give her the remote. We’re not holding her prisoner here. But it’s got a range of two hundred yards tops. From experience I’d say one-fifty is as high as you’d want to push it. After that these things start to malfunction. It might be that she’ll get randomly shocked.”
“Think,” I spit out, folding my arms over my chest. “Don’t tell me there’s no way around this thing. You need to take it off her.”
“I will,” he shoots back, combat-ready and matching my hostile tone. “There’s always a way to disengage the system, but unless you don’t mind her getting electrocuted while I poke and prod blindly, you’ll let me do my fucking thing and muster a little bit of patience.”
◆◆◆
The little bit of patience isn’t little by any definition. The sun had risen by the time Ryder stopped fiddling with the collar and tapping the keyboard.
Then, he left for almost two hours and Violet fell asleep, curled in the corner of the couch.
All this time, she’s barely spoken a word, aside from answering Ryder’s questions, but the fact she let herself sleep tells me she feels somewhat safe here.
I’d bet my right hand it’s only because of Hailey. She’s been sitting arm-in-arm with Violet the whole time, doting on her like an overprotective mother, glaring at Ryder whenever he’s inspecting the collar.
It’s ten in the morning when Ryder struts back in with Koby in tow. “Alright, let’s get to work. I could use a strong, black coffee, Boss. Is the maid here yet?”
Carter nods, disappearing through the doorway leading to the kitchen while Ryder sets up his equipment. Within minutes, the coffee table’s littered with electronic instruments and different tools I can’t name.
Hailey’s still on the couch, watching over the exhausted girl who’s starting to stir awake thanks to Ryder’s less-than-subtle preparations. He all but throws his shit onto the coffee table.
Violet’s eyes pop open, finding me across the room watching her every move like some psycho fucking stalker. I’ve been propping this wall up with the bulk of my body for hours.
Carter’s back in his seat, watching his girl with a fond look in his eyes, and within moments, the living room fills with the bittersweet scent of freshly brewed coffee as the maid sets a tray with six steaming cups beside the precious electronics.
“You sure it’ll work?” I ask, sparing Ryder a glance while he connects the collar remote to his laptop.
Cracking his knuckles, he rests his fingers on the keys, peering over the screen. “I can’t promise it’ll work. I’m only ninety percent sure I can rewire this thing and disconnect the collar without shocking her.”
Violet shifts in the wingback chair, hiding her hands in the sleeves of an oversized knitted sweater Hailey brought for her shortly after we arrived.
“It’s okay,” she says, sounding resigned. “I can handle it. It won’t kill me.”
My back straightens like a drawn string, muscles tensing on cue. What kind of hell has she been through if getting electrocuted doesn’t faze her?
It sure fazes me. I can’t erase the image of her thrashing around outside Noretto’s club.
“Don’t shock her,” I grind out, my teeth scraping over each other.
Ryder smirks, beckoning Koby closer. “I knew you’d say that, which is why I’ve come prepared.”
Koby drops a small brown paper bag on the table, then pulls out a collar almost identical to the one around Violet’s neck, except it’s not dripping in diamonds and there’s no belt connected.
“For testing,” Ryder explains.
I push away from the wall, crossing the room in a few measured steps, perfectly aware Violet’s watching my every move. I grab the collar, inspecting it quickly. No way will this fit around my neck. It’s designed for a slender female neck, so my arm will have to do.
I roll the sleeve of my pullover past my elbow.
“What are you doing?” Ryder asks, two wrinkles denting his forehead.
“You said this is for testing.”
“Did I say put it on ?” he drawls, baffled and amused. “I don’t need you to tell me it’s working. We’ll know.”
I shoot him a dirty look and he just smirks, eyes on the screen. His fingers tap the keyboard at lightning speed before he starts dismantling the spare remote.
Hailey leaves the room a moment later, only to come back with a large jug of lemonade and a tray of glasses, apparently not interested in coffee. Violet isn’t either and I wonder whether she doesn’t trust us not to poison her. Hailey was the same after we rescued her from Noretto.
My stomach flips and I snatch my coffee from the tray to busy my hands.
“Alright,” Ryder denotes, clasping the collar together and powering it on. “I’ve set the range to ten feet. Koby, grab the remote and start moving.”
Obediently, Koby follows both instructions to the T and starts backing away.
Carter’s never been ostentatious. His loft back in Chicago was a decent size but nothing huge. This house, however, is a fucking mansion. There are way too many bedrooms, and the living room is twice the size of mine.
Koby’s back hits a wingback chair in the corner where a cozy reading nook is set up for Hailey. The shelves bend under the weight of her favorite titles.
He takes one more step and the collar activates. A small red LED flickers to life at the back, followed by a low hum. The air fills with a faint crackling sound, making Violet jump. Her face blanches as she watches tiny arcs of electricity dancing between the prongs of the collar.
“It’s working,” Koby states the obvious.
“Now disconnect it,” I clip, my palms slick with sweat. It fucking hurts to see Violet so distressed.
With practiced precision, Ryder keys in too many combinations of buttons to count. All the while, the collar vibrates with electricity and Violet looks in physical pain.
I bet she’s recalling every time her collar’s sent shocks through her system. My mind drifts away, imagining the scenes. I wonder how long she was shocked, first time around. I wonder if Damon was close by, if he switched the collar off immediately or used the opportunity to teach her a lesson. Maybe he stood back, watching while she writhed, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks.
Save for the metallic sounds of static coming from the collar, and Ryder’s clicking, the room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Seconds tick by and I’m starting to feel sick the longer this goes on.
Frustration is evident in Ryder’s features, his eyes moving to Carter, a look I know too well passing between them.
Can’t do it.
“Koby, get back here,” Carter says, and as soon as Koby steps forward, the diode at the back of the collar turns green.
“Don’t stop,” I clip, my hands balling into tight fists. “Try again.”
Ryder shakes his head. “The firewall on this thing is thick,” he explains, running a heavy hand down his face.
He takes a moment to think, his eyes closed, two wrinkles marring his forehead, before he fiddles with the battery compartment beneath the diode. He pries it open with his fingers and the batteries pop out one by one. I count twenty-four.
Ryder’s clearly not impressed.
He spins one between his fingers, then gets back to clicking his keyboard with newfound determination. A moment later he reinserts the batteries and sends Koby out of range. The collar springs to life, making Violet’s face fall once more.
Why the fuck did Carter think she should witness this? Couldn’t we figure this out alone, then fetch her once we know what we’re doing?
Watching the electric shocks shake the collar isn’t doing her any good. She’s clearly upset, her teeth nibbling her lower lip, fingers twisting the hem of her sweater so hard her nails turn white.
“Right, the voltage on this isn’t that high,” Ryder mutters, turning the screen toward us. “It’s not lethal, that’s for sure. The batteries only last approximately seven minutes, then the collar becomes useless. I have an—”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I snap, springing forward. “You’re not shocking her.”
“That’s—” he starts again, but Violet cuts him off this time.
“It’s okay, I can handle it,” she mutters, but her eyes are still like saucers. “It’s really not that bad. I just... I just don’t have any control of my body when the shocks start.”
The image of her outside the auction house last night has been playing on repeat inside my head, driving me livid.
“We’re not electrocuting you for seven minutes!” I stomp toward Ryder. “Figure it out. I don’t care how long it takes. Just figure it out. Call Jackson and let him look at it.”
Ryder frowns, clearly taken aback by my lack of faith. Since we started working together, I’ve always preferred his methods to Jackson’s. Ryder’s more cunning, smarter. He finds loopholes in systems others overlook and I always considered him superior to Dante’s tech guy.
Today’s the first time I’ve suggested Ryder take a step back and let his mentor solve the case.
“Broadway,” Carter denotes. “A word.” He rises from his seat, gesturing toward the kitchen.
“Don’t fucking shock her while I’m gone,” I tell Ryder.
“But I think—”
“Just don’t ,” I snap, exiting the room with Carter.
He doesn’t stop in the kitchen. Instead, he leads me to the back garden and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, tossing it for me to catch.
I wait for him to say something, but he just leans against the wall in his tailored waistcoat and suit pants, the white shirt immaculately pressed and two buttons at his collar popped as per usual. He studies my every move, jaw set tight while I light a cigarette before throwing the pack back.
“Go on,” he prompts, lighting one for himself and prompting me to cock an eyebrow. He never smokes if Hailey’s around. He hardly smokes at all these days, but when he does, Hailey’s either at college, with her dad, or just not anywhere near him. “Get this off your chest.”
“Get what off my chest?”
“Whatever’s making you such a miserable bitch.”
I scoff, filling my lungs with smoke and letting it soothe my agitated mind. It’s not an antidote, but it does work. “You think not letting Ryder shock Violet means I’m a miserable bitch? If that collar was on Hailey—”
“Hailey’s mine, Broadway. That’s different.”
“No, it isn’t. You wouldn’t let Hailey suffer, so why do you think it’s okay to let Violet suffer?”
“I don’t think it’s okay, but that collar’s a constant reminder of what she’s been through. The sooner we get it off, the sooner she can start healing.”
“Ryder’s the tech whizz, right? Let him whizz. A few more hours won’t change shit and if we can keep Violet from writhing in pain, I’d very much like to try.”
A small smirk twists Carter’s mouth. “Fine. I’ll call Jackson, see what he thinks.”
I nod, hidden thanks in that gesture.
But there’s no need for Jackson’s help because the moment we step back inside the house, Ryder twitches his eyebrows at me, incredibly smug.
My eyes find Violet on the couch, the collar gone. All I need is one look at her pale skin and trembling hands to know it came at a cost.
“I told you not to shock her!” I seethe, barreling my way across the living room.
“I was just a few seconds. There was no way around the firewall while the thing was inactive. I had to—”
My right hook sails through the air, landing neatly on the side of his face, my chest heaving, mind sputtering like a defective neon. Ryder’s head swings left, lip splitting under my knuckles.
He holds himself perfectly still, hands balled into fists at his sides, chest rising and falling at a steady rhythm. Instead of charging right at me like I expect, he cocks an eyebrow, staring me down.
“There was no other way,” he says, weighing every word. “I could only bypass the firewall while the collar was functioning. It took less than half a minute and if you hadn’t kept cutting me off I could’ve told you about the rubber insulation I used to keep the electricity away from her.” He wipes the blood trailing a lazy line down his chin with the back of his hand, then points at a rubber mat cut to fit between the collar and Violet’s skin. “It’s done and she’s fine.”
I glance over my shoulder, meeting Violet’s tired eyes.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” An exhausted smile lilts the corner of her lips and even though it’s barely there—a ghost of a smile at best—wings suddenly grow out of my back.
But fine is far from good. Far from perfect. Far from the way I want her to feel: calm, happy, safe.
My fists itch to keep raining blows until Ryder’s nose breaks under my fist but, deep down, I know he wouldn’t intentionally hurt her.
Still, I can’t fucking deal with him right now.
Neither him nor this onslaught of frenzied emotions, so I slam the door behind me and burn rubber across town to my penthouse.