Chapter Twenty #2
“D-doesn't matter,” he gasped, blood trickling from where he'd bitten his tongue. “Footage is... saved. Cloud storage... If I don't enter a password every day, it goes public.”
“You're bluffing.”
His laugh was wet and gurgled. “Try me. Kill me now... and by this time tomorrow, everyone knows what you did to that man. The WBC strips your champion title... and sweet little Sierra sees the monster she's been fucking.”
The mention of Sierra from his mouth made a violent anger surge through me, obliterating the momentary hesitation.
My fist connected with his jaw before I could stop myself, the satisfying crunch of bone drowning out the panic rising in my chest.
“You don't get to say her name,” I hissed, landing another blow to his ribs. “Not ever.”
He spat blood onto the carpet, his smile revealing crimson-stained teeth. “She still sleep with that stupid sheep? The one her real daddy gave her before he died?”
Another wet laugh.
“I used to hide it when she pissed me off. Made her earn it back.”
Red clouded my vision. I lost track of how many times my fist connected with his face, his ribs, his kidneys. Each impact sent a jolt of savage satisfaction up my arm, but it wasn't enough, it would never be enough to pay for what he'd done to her childhood.
The door crashed open behind me, Jax's imposing figure filling the frame. “Killer,” he barked, the use of my ring name cutting through the haze of violence.
“We've got movement on the street. Adrian says a car pulled up two houses down.”
I cursed, my fist drawn back for another blow, Jerry's mangled, bloody face inches from mine. “Who?”
“Doesn't matter,” Jax replied tersely, moving through the room. “We need to wrap this up now. Are we taking him or not?” He looked down at Jerry, his face contorting in disgust.
I dropped Jerry like garbage, turning to Jax.
“He claims there’s footage on a dead man's switch. It goes public if he doesn't enter a password every twelve hours.”
Jax's expression hardened, the muscles in his jaw working as he processed this new information. “Fuck,” he ran a hand through his styled hair. “That complicates things.” He growled under his breath, pulling out his phone to text Adrian.
Jerry struggled to sit up, one arm wrapped around his ribs. “A million,” he gasped, blood dripping from his mouth like a fountain.
“That's my price. A million monthly and visits from Sierra. Or the footage goes public. ”
This fucking piece of shit.
“You think I give a fuck about money?” I crouched to his level. “I'd burn every cent I have if it meant keeping Sierra safe from you.”
“It's not about the money,” Jerry rasped, his voice strangled. “It's about her seeing what you really are. A monster. You think she'd still look at you the same way if she saw what you did?”
He attempted to prop himself up against the ruined wall, wincing as his broken ribs shifted.
"And if you think I'm bluffing, maybe you'd like to explain why there are cameras in my stepdaughter’s apartment?
How do you think she'd feel about that, huh?
Knowing her big, strong boyfriend is just a sick fuck spying her? "
It was too close to the truth.
I had put cameras in Sierra's apartment. Not for sexual gratification, but to keep her safe, to make sure she was eating properly and sleeping through the night. It was protection, not control. Mostly. But hearing it from Jerry's bloody lips made the distinction seem paper-thin.
The piece of shit was right. With Sierra's gentle heart and constant anxiety, she’d run if she saw footage of me killing a man for sport and profit, the man who was supposed to protect her from monsters.
Adrian appeared in the doorway, bag slung over his shoulder, demeanor oozing efficiency.
“Move,” he ordered, shouldering past Jax to crouch beside Jerry.
"You.” He jabbed a finger at Jerry's chest. “Show me the setup. Now.”
Jerry's smirk widened, revealing bloodstained teeth. “Why should I?”
Adrian's gloved hand shot out, grabbing Jerry's pinky finger and bending it backward until a fresh snap echoed through the room. His scream was cut short when Adrian clamped a hand over his mouth, a smile on his face.
“Because if you don't,” Adrian said pleasantly, “I'll break every bone you have, starting with your dick. By the time I reach your femur, you'll be begging me to kill you. ”
He released Jerry's finger and casually opened his laptop. “Now, show me.”
Twenty minutes later, we were back in the van, speeding toward the city with the first rush of morning commuters. Jerry remained at his house, concussed but alive.
The footage was real, from the street fight that got me noticed by the WBC. Cameras were prohibited during those things, but some fucker snuck one in and was making my life difficult now.
Adrian delayed the timer by threatening Jerry’s eye with a fucking ice cream scoop, buying us a day so I could at least have the pleasure of knocking him out cold.
But the threat remained. If Jerry died, if he didn't enter the passcode every twelve hours, the footage would go public.
“We could still kill him," Jax offered, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Let the footage release, weather the storm. You're Connor fucking Graves. You’ve survived worse than a manslaughter charge from a decade ago.”
“It's not about me,” I stared at the city skyline as it emerged from the morning mist. Sierra was there, sleeping peacefully in my penthouse, unaware that the world around her had twisted.
“It's about Sierra,” I admitted. “I’d be a monster to her; she’d be terrified of me. It would destroy everything we've built.”
“So, what's the play then? Since you don’t want to lock her up.” Adrian asked from the back, where he was now meticulously cleaning his laptop. “We can't just let him walk, and we can't kill him without triggering the release.”
I pulled out my phone and checked the time—7 AM. Sierra would be waking soon.
“Transfer the money,” I decided, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “A million to whatever account he wants. Buys us time to find and destroy every copy of that footage."
Jax's eyebrows shot up. “You're just going to pay him? After what he did to her?”
“I'm buying time,” I countered, hating the idea of giving that piece of shit any money at all. “A million is fucking nothing if Sierra remains mine.” I ran a hand through my hair, hating the thought of losing her even more.
Adrian whistled low from the back. “That's dirty money, dude. Even for you.”
“I don’t give a shit about the money,” I growled, turning back to face him. “As long as Sierra doesn’t see that footage, pay him.”
The thought of her seeing that monster made something vital and frightening seize in my chest. She looked at me like I hung the fucking moon. Like I was someone worth loving. If she saw the shit I did in San Francisco...
“We pay him,” Jax said slowly, tapping his gold rings against the steering wheel. “And then what? He comes back for more, maybe ups the price. Asks to see our bee. These fuckers never stop at a few paydays.”
“That's why we track the money.” My voice was lethal. “Find everything. He had to get the footage from someone. We find them and then…” I made a violent gesture with my hand that needed no explanation.
Adrian’s demeanor quickly revealed his secret wild grin. “I can do that. Find the dead man's switch, disarm it. We get to kill more people. But I'll need time.”
“And Jerry gets to breathe during that time. With millions,” Jax muttered, revulsion evident in his tone.
“For now,” I replied, checking the time—7:40 AM. Sierra should be stirring soon.
“Set up the transfer, make it untraceable, and we’ll watch him to find out where he got the footage.”
The van pulled into my building's underground garage, idling by my private elevator. “What about bee?" Jax asked, his voice unusually gentle yet curious. “You going to tell her Jerry wants to see her?”
I paused, one foot on the pavement. The question was easy.
“Never,” I answered finally. “She deserves to be happy. Not deal with this shit. ”
Jax nodded, his expression turning into one of approval. “Right call, Killer.”
As the private elevator ascended to the penthouse, I composed myself, tucking away the rage and violence until I looked like the man Sierra thought I was.
The man who made her tea and held her through nightmares. Not the man who was plotting murder before breakfast.
The doors opened to the female bodyguard, Mara, and she retired for the day with a nod. I moved silently through the living room, checking the security monitor before heading to the bedroom.
Sierra was still asleep, her face peaceful for once, the hydroxyzine doing its job.
I watched her sleep for a while, and that’s when I realized Jerry knew I had installed cameras in Sierra’s apartment. Shit. I let that slip past me.
He’d gone to her apartment after that stunt he pulled and saw them. Thank fuck I brought Sierra here when I did. I didn’t want that bastard anywhere near her.
I took a quick shower, just wanting to lie next to my sweet girl. I needed to hold her, kiss her, to fucking absorb her.
When I finished, I dressed into boxers and slipped back into bed beside her, pulling her warm body against mine. She stirred slightly, mumbling my name as she nestled closer.
“You're cold,” she whispered, not fully awake.
“Sorry, sweet girl,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Go back to sleep.”
My skin was cold because I had to take a fucking ice shower due to the thought of her sedated and pliant in my bed.
And as her breathing deepened again, I made a silent vow. Jerry would die, the footage would disappear, and Sierra would never, ever know what kind of monster she'd been trusting.
Because sometimes, monsters were exactly what good girls needed to keep them safe.