Free The Enforcer (Men Who Thrill Book 1) by Kaye Blue Page B

the figures crowded in the doorway, and even without seeing the speaker, I knew who he was.
    Shaughnessy.
    The speaker’s identity was confirmed when he stepped from behind the others, though he was dressed in a suit and tie as always, looking every bit the slick, fat rat that he was. He stared at me with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.
    And then he turned his gaze to April, leering at her in a way that made my skin crawl.
    “Up!” the man closest to me yelled.
    Apparently, I’d begun to lower my hands, my need to get those eyes, especially Shaughnessy’s, off April temporarily overtaking common sense. I raised my hands again, but couldn’t stop myself from curving them into fists, my blunt nails digging into the flesh of my palms so deeply I knew I’d drawn blood.
    “That’s right, big boy. Keep those hands up,” Shaughnessy said.
    He stared me down, eyes glittering with delight. Then he turned back to April, and after looking her up and down again, his gaze lingering on her breasts so long that I almost launched myself off the bed and to certain death, he spoke.
    “You can stand, ma’am.”
    She didn’t move, and I could feel her eyes on me; I also understood her unspoken question.
    “It’s okay, April,” I said, my voice calm, “go ahead.”
    “What about you?” she asked.
    My heart twisted at the fear that animated her tone, and at the fact that even with men pointing machine guns at her, she was concerned for me.
    “He’s under arrest. Five counts of assault and one count of first-degree murder,” Shaughnessy interjected. “Now stand and move away from the suspect.”
    He spoke in a threatening tone, but still she didn’t move, from the shock of what he’d said or from something else, I didn’t know.
    “It’s okay, April,” I said again, praying she’d listen, that she wouldn’t give Shaughnessy a reason.
    The shifting of the bed told me that she’d stood, and, from the corner of my eye I watched her as she bent to grope on the floor for clothes. She threw my shirt over her head quickly, and pulled it down as far as she could.
    “Come this way, ma’am,” Shaughnessy said as he reached out for April’s arm, touching her gently, protectively, like he was ushering her away from danger.
    I stayed stone still and ground my teeth together so hard I thought I might crack them, my rage intensifying when Shaughnessy ran his hand up April’s arm and rested it between her shoulders, not bothering to spare me a glance.
    But April did, her eyes wide with terror and shock and underneath, something else, anger, disappointment. That expression took the fight out of me, and I didn’t resist when one of the cops snapped handcuffs on my wrists.
    ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
    The cops dumped me in an empty holding cell, though I was still cuffed and shirtless. I was so angry I thought I might burst with it. At Shaughnessy for this stunt, one for which I would make him pay. But most of all, with myself. I’d played with that fire, and it was April who’d gotten burned. Her business had been invaded, and now, because of me, so had her home. She’d barely seen a gun before, and after just weeks in my acquaintance, she’d had multiple trained on her, had again felt the very real fear of death.
    I glimpsed her through the scratched glass that separated the holding cells from the main floor of the station. Her eyes were wide but flat, as was the rest of her face, no hint of the openness and warmth that I’d come to crave shining through. It was April in body, but not in spirit. And it was all my fault.
    When Shaughnessy put a hand on her shoulder and then pulled her into his arms, I screamed my rage. April looked toward the sound, her flat eyes now alive with fear. But he just smirked and then stared at her with faux concern before he turned her and walked out of my view. Yet still I screamed, continued to do so even when several officers rushed into the cell and tried to beat me into submission. Continued even after,