Page 31 of Deadly Seduction

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Page 31 of Deadly Seduction

Our bodies skid and tumble onto a glass coffee table with a crash. We smash right through it. He breaks the fall, and shards fly in different directions.

Callen told me not to cause trouble, but I can’t help it if trouble finds me.

CHAPTER17

CALLEN

The pizza boxes warm my hands. I ordered two larges because I’m not willing to share. Let’s hope Rose likes extra hot sauce because I’ll enjoy watching her pant, just like she did over my cock.

I check the time. I’ve been gone longer than I’d hoped. Since my last attempt at in-house surveillance, Freddie disabled all my other hidden cameras. He doesn’t want his princess being watched or put at risk if anyone else finds the footage.

It’s bullshit. If I had my way, I’d make her wear a collar to track her every move. I see through her act. I’ve seen her lose control before, and she’s hiding something, but I don’t know what… yet.

I approach the house and see a vehicle I don't recognise parked outside. I know all the other resident’s cars and their plates. I step closer to the vehicle to inspect it. Bulletproof glass. Something’s wrong.

The front gate isn’t closed properly, and I know I shut it when I left. My instincts kick in. Instead of entering the house through the front door, I detour through the garage. There’s one vacant parking spot, ruling out my theory that Seb and Freddie returned early.

I close the door quietly behind me and creep up the stairs. Like always, I’m armed. I go nowhere without a knife, gun, and more tricks up my sleeve. I carefully place the pizzas down. Fuck it. I grab a slice of goodness, shoving half of it into my mouth for good measure. If I’m walking into an ambush, I need my energy. These pizzas are too good to be reheated.

A giant smash comes from the living room. Voices. A male and female. There’s a struggle, but I hang back. I’m not Freddie or Seb, who would charge in like gallant knights brandishing swords to save a fair maiden.

I wait and tiptoe around, pressing my back against the wall to hear snatches of their conversation.

“You’re standing in my way!” the man blasts. He’s out of breath. “Out of everyone, I thought you’d get it. You should understand why I need to do this.”

“This isn’t the way,” Rose hisses. Her voice is firm and authoritative. “I won’t let you ruin what I’ve been working towards.”

“Do you know what I think?” he spits. My hands jump to my gun at the bitterness of his tone. “I think you like Frederick James. He clearly likes you. How can we trust a word you say?”

Oomph!

I dare to poke my head around the corner. Rose pins the man between her thighs, while he lies among the shattered remains of our coffee table. A gun lies a few inches away from his hand. The force of falling must have knocked it from his grasp.

Thwack!She punches him hard in the face, spraying blood all over our lovely rug.Well done, princess. Poor Freddie will be upset. He cares about his precious furniture too much.

“Never question my loyalty.” Her icy tone sends an electric shock down to my cock. “This is my fucking job, not yours.”

He lurches for his gun, but she’s quicker. She grabs it in a slick motion and holds it under his chin.

“Don’t make me shoot you,” she warns. “I don’t want to do this, but I will if I have to. You need to walk away. This is your last chance.”

A surge of adrenaline races through him. He’s bigger and uses his physical strength to push her backwards. She stumbles, then stands.

“You’re going to regret standing between me and them,” he threatens, staggering to his feet.

Most people would fall to their knees and beg for their lives, but not Rose. She simply laughs. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I knew she was special, but this woman is something else.

His face pales. He knows things about her I don’t. Bad things. Things that make him tense his arse cheeks to avoid shitting himself.

“You can try to kill me.” Rose shrugs. “But not if I kill you first.”

CHAPTER18

IVY

Tom roars like a starving lion being released from a cage. I swerve to narrowly miss him, and he thuds into a hanging painting. The frame cracks from the force. Oops.

He uses the wall to propel himself like he’s on the ropes of a boxing ring, but I dodge and avoid an incoming punch. He’s acting clumsy, fighting like we’re in a pub brawl, forgetting all of his training. I rebut by smacking him in the face with the gun. That should have knocked him out, but he only staggers. Sheer willpower keeps him standing. Loss consumes your entire being and allows you to do things you never thought possible.




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