Spanked by the Bad Boy

by London Saint James

  Her gaze flitted to Declan. If Royce was going to kill her, she needed to see Declan’s face before she died—tell him she was sorry for ruining everything.

  Her heart was in her throat, and the sentiment behind her eyes had to be remorseful and pleading, because she had no other way to tell him everything she wanted to. With every fiber of her being, she loved him, and she was sorry she’d hurt him.

  She fixed her eyes on his and mouthed three simple words while the ache radiated from her body. “I’m so sorry.”

  Royce grabbed her wrist, her barely healed wrist, taking it with him when he went around to her back. Pain speared at her and radiated up her forearm. Keeping pressure on her hand, he put the gun barrel close to her left temple. She knew he could see Declan and Matthew from his vantage point behind her.

  “If you so much as twitch in my direction, I’ll kill her,” Royce said to them.

  Matthew looked ashen, frozen in place, with part of his body tucked behind Declan’s. Declan’s expression was deadly. He nodded once. “We understand,” he said in an eerie, calm voice.

  Royce put more pressure on her hand and wrist, twisting it up toward her shoulder blade. She whimpered and went to her knees. “I don’t think you can possibly understand,” Royce said to Declan, “but my daughter, who you’ve been fucking, owes me.” Tiffany’s heart felt as though it were going to burst from her chest. Royce had been watching her long enough to know about Declan. He’d use Declan against her. He wrenched her hand. She cried out from the pain. Any more and he’d snap her wrist like a dried twig. “Tell the big guy how much you owe me.”

  “I don’t owe you anything,” she managed through gritted teeth while tears streamed down her cheeks and trickled over her lips.

  “Oh, but you do, Tif, and I’m going to take the payment out of your flesh.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The sight of Tiffany on her knees with her convict of a stepfather standing behind her, twisting her arm, his gun pointed at her, filled Declan with stone-cold rage. He’d bide his time, play Royce’s warped game, but one thing was for sure; this wasn’t going to end well for the bastard.

  He moved his gaze from Tiffany to the man with his crotch almost pressed into the back of her head. “Royce,” he said, keeping his voice steady. Royce’s dark eyes met his. Declan was staring into the face of a man who’d blackened his soul, long ago severing any conscience he may have possessed. “You have put yourself into a situation here.”

  Royce smiled at him. “I know exactly what kind of a situation I have here, so don’t try to play your mind games with me.”

  Royce Brooks’s number was up the moment he dared to touch Declan’s woman; the little perverted worm just hadn’t realized it yet.

  “No mind games, only the reality,” said Declan.

  Royce laughed like a hyena. “Enlighten me on the ‘reality.’”

  “If you hurt Tiffany, you’re going to need to make the decision to hurt all of us.” Matthew’s arm moved behind the shield of his back, doing something.

  Royce let go of Tiffany’s hand. She quickly clutched it to her chest. He yanked her by the hair until she stared at the ceiling. Declan forced himself not to move.

  “Tell the guy,” Royce said looking down into her face, “how easy it is for me to make decisions.”

  “Don’t hurt them,” Tiffany said.

  He tugged his handful of her hair again. Her head was pulled back farther, and she grunted. Declan worked to keep his expression neutral.

  “When did your begging ever do any good?” Royce asked.

  “It’s me you want to punish,” she said. “Take me with you, and leave them here.”

  Declan wanted to paddle her ass for even suggesting such a thing. There was no way she’d be leaving the building with Royce.

  “Tiffany,” Declan said.

  “Shut up!” Royce shouted. “You have nothing to say to her.” He returned his attention to Tiffany’s face. Matthew tapped Declan’s back. He thought he felt the shape of a cell phone being pressed between his shoulder blades. Declan very carefully nodded once and hoped Matthew saw him. “Shall we go to your tidy little two-bedroom apartment and become re-acquainted?”

  “How do you know about my apartment?” Tiffany asked in her defiant voice.

  Declan was proud of her for not giving Royce what he wanted—her complete sniffling surrender.

  “You’ve always been a stupid child. I’ve been watching you ever since they released me to the halfway house.”

  Declan’s eyes narrowed before he gained control.

  “They let you freely go where you want?’ she asked.

  Good. Keep him busy, sugar.

  “Some of the staff can be easily manipulated.” He smirked, and Declan wanted to beat the expression off his smarmy, narrow face. “I’ve even been inside your place more than once, and put my touch on your things. The blouse you have on has been in my hands, and I’d venture to say your panties have, too. Hell, I even took a souvenir.” He made a show of sniffing her hair. “Your bathrobe smells like you.”

  Declan watched her closely, and not by the bat of an eyelash did she flinch at his admission.

  “It was you who was outside my apartment, wasn’t it?” she asked.

  “Too much fun.” He yanked her up by the hair. She went to her feet as best she could, but Declan could tell she was in pain by the grimace on her face. “I enjoyed watching some of my old PD buddies search for evidence of someone having been at your bedroom window.”

  “You watched the police?”

  “I saw Officer Johns step inside your door from the building across the street.”

  Declan willed his heart rate to slow.

  “Let Declan and Mr. Stoub go, Royce.”

  Royce walked her with him past the potted ficus tree close to one of the windows.

  “I don’t think so. I’ll deal with the two unexpected guests before we go.” He tugged her a little closer to the front doors.

  “Royce,” Declan said. “I can’t let you leave with her.”

  “You don’t have a choice in the matter. The man with the loaded gun makes all the rules.”

  Declan took a step forward.

  Tiffany said, “Stay there, Declan.”

  Royce yanked her so hard she skittered back against him, wobbling on her heels.

  “Don’t tell me you actually care for the big guy,” Royce said, voice deadpan. “How touching.”

  The sound of sirens hit the room before police cars tore into the parking lot of Stoub Engineering. The ruckus outside must have caught Royce off guard since he quickly turned his head to look out the windows.

  Now or never.

  Time slowed down into the increments of a frame-by-frame shot. Fueled by murderous rage, Declan ran toward Tiffany, and, in perfect clarity of thought, he watched as Tiffany stomped her spiked heel into the top of her stepfather’s canvas-covered foot. He jumped.

  “Fucking bitch!” Royce yelled.

  She threw her head back, smacking the bastard full-force—her skull to his chin. The prick stumbled. Obscenities, too fast, too numerous, flew from his mouth. His hand with the gun flailed about. Tiffany fell to the floor. The police came running into the building.

  Someone yelled, “Freeze!”

  Declan rammed his shoulder into Royce’s gut. Air whooshed out in an oomph. The gun went off in a loud bang.

  “Declan!” Tiffany screamed.

  “Get down!” a voice he didn’t know yelled.

  “Get out of the way.” Matthew.

  “He’ll shoot, Declan,” Tiffany wailed.

  Declan scuffled with the squirming bastard.

  “You’re a dumb fuck,” Royce uttered. “She’s a slut like her mother.”

  Declan’s forehead smashed into Royce’s. The gun skittered free of his hold. He had Royce pinned. Royce spit. Declan let his fist fly. Royce grunted, tried to kick. Declan felt more than heard the crack as his knuckles connected. Blood spurted in a hig
h arc from the deep gash above Royce’s eyebrow.

  “That,” Declan grumbled, “is for the scar your belt buckle made on Tiffany’s flesh, you cock-sucking mother fucker.” The fresh stench of the asshole’s blood filled Declan’s senses, sending him into a blood lust, and his next punch to the guy’s face fileted his lip. “That’s for putting a gun to her head.” The bright crimson of Royce’s blood overtook Declan’s hands, splattered up the wall beside him, and sprayed his face.

  Someone yanked at Declan’s arms, pulling him off the pervert. Royce lay on the floor, moaning. Declan tugged himself free, going back for more, and then he was taken down by a swell of officers tackling him.

  “Let me go,” Declan said, his jaw tight, adrenaline coursing through him, chest heaving.

  “We’ve got him,” an officer said.

  Two of Denver’s finest subdued Royce, flipped him over to his stomach, and pressed his cheek into a dark pool of blood seeping into the tight gray weave of the carpet. One of the officers slapped a pair of cuffs on his wrists behind his back while a third officer read Royce his rights.

  Tiffany.

  His head whipped to his left. She stood next to Matthew, her hand clutched to her chest, blue eyes rounded with fear. Declan locked his gaze with hers. Tiffany was shaken, but she was safe.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  In the aftermath of Royce’s violence, everything was different, and yet, somehow, things with her and Declan were still the same. He’d been in discussion with several of the police officers, and Tiffany hadn’t been able to talk to him. When the EMTs arrived, she’d been whisked off to the hospital where she was treated for a concussion, the outcome of her head butt to Royce’s chin, and been given another wrist brace to sport. Yet another overnight observation had been added for good measure.

  The nightmarish event made the evening news, and her room had been all abuzz with hospital personnel. The detectives on the case came and took her statement. Her mother caused a scene all her own after she showed up. Tanya flirted with the two detectives unmercifully.

  And then Matthew’s arrival.

  “I understand if you want to give me my walking papers,” she said to Mr. Stoub, her heart in her throat causing her voice to warble.

  “My dear, why on earth would I want to do that?” he asked, standing at the side of her hospital bed, gazing down at her.

  Royce had given her extracurricular activities away with his brash and vulgar description of events happening between her and Declan, so there was no reason to fall into the same trap as her mother and try and sweep the truth of the matter under the rug.

  “I’ve been fraternizing with a contractor the firm does business with.”

  He chuckled. “I assume you are talking about you and Mr. Cage.”

  “Yes, sir.” She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze.

  “Ms. Brooks, I suspected as much by the way you two looked at each other.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You knew?”

  “I suspected.”

  “And you didn’t say anything to me about it?”

  “You are a grown woman,” he said. “Whom you choose to see is your own business.”

  “But you and your brother had words over his fraternization with the secretary at Patterson Construction, and I assumed—”

  “It wasn’t because Stoub Engineering and Patterson Construction do business together,” he said.

  “It wasn’t?”

  “No. Dale and I had words because I’d dated her. Plain and simple, my brother stepped on my toes by dating a woman I still had feelings for.” One side of his mouth quirked up, and she saw the sadness hidden behind the gesture. “Feelings she didn’t return, mind you, but feelings all the same.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “She missed out.”

  “Thank you, but it’s all water under the bridge.” He paused. “Don’t let water disappear under your bridge.”

  She blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I realize you may not want to have this discussion with me, but do you care for Mr. Cage?” he asked.

  “I don’t mind talking with you about him, and, yes, I care for him very much.”

  His fingers tapped the bedrail. “Then hold onto him.”

  “What if I’m not the one who needs to hold on?” she asked.

  “Ah, then you need to remind him his grip is slipping, and he needs to take a stronger hold.”

  Tiffany smiled up at the man she wished she would’ve been lucky enough to have for a dad.

  “I’ll remind him.”

  “You do that.” Matthew patted her shoulder. “I’m going to call the insurance company about the damage to my ceiling and walls then head home for the night.”

  “Do you have the number?”

  “I do. Ever since you entered my contacts into my cell, I don’t even use my rolodex.”

  “See?” she said. “Technology isn’t all bad.”

  “It saved our bacon earlier tonight. I used my phone to text Dale. He contacted the police.” She’d wondered how the police knew to show up. He brushed his hand through his silver-tipped hair. “I think we’ll keep the office closed for the rest of the week. It is a crime scene, so people can live without us until Monday.”

  “All right, Mr. Stoub.” She briefly touched his hand. “I’m so sorry for all the drama, but I really didn’t know they’d released my stepdad to a halfway house, or I would have….” She worked her lip over with her teeth. “I guess I’m not sure what I could have done.”

  “None of what happened was any fault of yours.” His green eyes flashed. “You are a special woman for surviving, and I don’t mean surviving tonight.”

  She had admitted to Mr. Stoub once a long time ago that her stepfather was in prison when he inquired about her family. She’d indicated he’d been abusive; she just never went into any of the gory details.

  Tiffany looked down at her lap. “I never used to think so. I blamed myself for his hatred of me.”

  “And now you don’t?” he asked.

  Until recently, she would’ve given a different answer to his question.

  “No.”

  Matthew cleared his throat. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Tiffany’s mind bounced to Patrick, Mr. Stoub’s apprentice, glad he’d gone home early from the office and wasn’t there to witness the event with Royce.

  “Oh, before I forget, you’ll need to call Patrick. You don’t want him to show up tomorrow to a closed office.”

  “He called me a little bit ago. Apparently, he saw Channel Nine News.”

  “He’s a good kid,” Tiffany said. “I’m sure he was shocked and worried.

  “He is,” Matthew agreed, “and he was.” She smoothed her good hand over her thigh, and Matthew nodded. “I better go, dear. You rest.”

  “I’ll try. You get some rest, too, and thank you.”

  “For what, Ms. Brooks?”

  “For being you.”

  Her boss gave her his eye-crinkling grin.

  ***

  The morning after had Tiffany wondering if she should call Declan to see how he was doing, but the fact he hadn’t checked on her had eaten at her most of the night like the slow drip of acid, eroding her hope away. She’d thought, though obviously she’d been wrong, that even though he was beyond mad at her, he would have at least called to see if she was all right.

  She splashed cool water over her face from the sink in the bathroom of her hospital room. She wasn’t going to chase after him, even though she wanted to, because she knew the chase wouldn’t do her any good. No. Declan had to come to her, whether it was to tell her he never wanted to see her again or to say he couldn’t handle her kind of crazy. Really, she wasn’t in a hurry to hear either version of the brush off she knew would eventually come.

  After drying her face, she exited the space and practically ran into the chest of someone. “Oh,” she said, startled, before glancing up, way up, into the face of the man who looked identical to he
r Declan. She needed to make sure for her own sake she wasn’t staring at Declan. She took a fleeting look at his arm. His bare, unadorned arm. “Hi.”

  The one uttered word was the best she could do in her surprised state.

  “Ms. Brooks,” he said, and his voice strummed at her. Everything, even Ryker’s voice, was like Declan’s.

  She padded to the bed and sat on the side. “If you’ve come to tell me to stay away from your brother, you needn’t bother. He’s chosen to stay away from me, and I’m not going to run after him.”

  Ryker’s hard face shifted to a more neutral, almost expressionless mask. Another trait he shared with his brother.

  “While I do have my serious doubts as to your character, I don’t have doubts about my brother’s character.”

  “You know,” she snapped, feathers ruffled. “You don’t know anything about me or my character, so don’t stand there, all self-righteous, looking down your nose at me. I wasn’t the only one who acted a fool and took advantage of a situation for anonymous sex at the Halloween party. You flirted with me first.” Ryker chuckled, and it ticked her off even further. “And let me be perfectly clear on one thing—”

  “What thing?” he asked.

  “I never set out to take advantage of your brother or to lie to him about anything. Your brother, not that it should matter to you, means the world to me.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She glowered at him.

  “Listen,” he said, voice droll. “I came to make peace with you.”

  Her eyebrows arched high. “Peace?”

  “Yeah. Perhaps I should make something perfectly clear to you, too. My brother means the world to me, also. Therefore, you and I have one thing in common.” She snickered. He glowered. “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s spooky how much the two of you are alike,” she admitted.

  “We’ve been called spooky before.” She imagined he spoke the truth. “You’re right about my part in our.…” He looked as though he was trying to come up with the right words. “Our bad behavior at the party,” he said. “I should have done things differently.”

  “We both should have,” she said.