Ropes and Revenge

Ropes and RevengeSavage ProtectorsAva QuinnSummer to Winter Publishing Copyright © 2023 Summer to Winter PublishingAll rights reservedThe characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.Cover design by: RebecaCvrsEditor: Link Phoenixwww.authorkhloesummers.com Chapter OneBethI’d be lying if I said I haven’t fantasized about this hundreds of times, maybe thousands, if you count the books I’ve read as fantasies. Rough, calloused hands land on my throat and tug at my hair as a giant man leans over me and growls.Of course, in my dreams, the grumbling man doesn’t have his henchman tying ropes around my wrists and he wasn’t holding a gun to my hip. Not a real one, anyway. This one looks like the real deal, solid steel. That’s what guns are made of, right?Who holds a gun to someone’s hip, anyway? Aren’t guns for heads or open mouths?“You know… if you want that gun to be effective, you should point it at my head.”The man glares down at me with dark eyes, unamused by my suggestion.“See… you don’t take criticism. If you did, you’d be so much further ahead. Guns should be aimed at heads. The hip isn’t a kill shot. And these ropes,” I narrow my gaze toward him, “aren’t going to change the fact that I don’t know where your necklace is.”The necklace in question is made of graduated jade beads, a twenty-four-karat gold clasp, and lined with diamonds and rubies. The piece is gorgeous, and last I checked, worth nearly twenty-seven million dollars to the right buyer. I know this, because my brother stole the necklace months ago.The man leans toward me, studying my face. Man, he smells good. Like some exotic cologne from the vault of some rich person’s home. The scent of money with a hint of cigar, maybe leather.When I’m done sniffing him, I sigh. “You know, if you cut back on the fancy perfumes, I bet you could afford a necklace just like the one you lost.”His jaw tenses, as the rope man moves to my ankles, tying them together tight. At least they’re using velvet. What kind terrorists.“I didn’t lose the necklace. The one you returned to me was fraudulent.”I widen my expression. “Buddy, I didn’t return anything to you. My brother did… and I haven’t seen him since. So, maybe it’s you that should be apologizing to me.”“When will you stop with the lies? That asshole wasn’t your brother.”I sigh. That part is true. While Patrick and I got together for family events, and technically was my late father’s son, we barely spoke… and for good reason. While I fought for everything I got in life, he was handed superiority on a bright silver platter. One that he used to feed people shit. He embezzled money from the bank he managed and stole from safe deposit boxes. He became so cocky about the whole thing that he brazenly allowed my grandmother to wear Liam’s missing necklace to an event which was photographed and slapped on Facebook. That was his demise. “I had no relationship with that man. You can tear my house apart. I don’t have your precious rocks.” I jerk my feet away from the beast tightening the ropes on my ankles. “Hey! That hurts, buddy! Are you even here for a necklace or did you hear Patrick has a hot sister and you want to sell me to sex traders?”The big man finally cracks a grin. “We’d have to sew your mouth shut first.”“Ha. Ha. What’s this about, anyway? Do you have mommy issues you need help working through? I’m a therapist. I can help you. What was it? Neglect? Alcohol? Did mommy forget you in the grocery store next to the frozen peas?”The big one chuckles and shakes his head. “Is that what you’re calling yourself? A bloody therapist?”Ooh, he’s British. Fantasy level upgraded.I smirk. “Well, something tells me I’m at least a little better at therapy than your mom.”He straightens his suit and grins. He’s actually quite handsome when he’s smirking… stunning, actually. He looks like he belongs on some magazine cover for rich people looking to buy expensive suits. He glances down at the man on the ground still fumbling with ropes. “We nearly done, Dex?”Dex. I wonder if that’s his real name, or an alias. Either way, it’s nice to have a name for one of them.Dex stands from the ground and huffs. “A few more years and I won’t be able to do this shit anymore. My fucking knees…”“You’re worried about your knees?” I blurt. “What about my ankles and my wrists? You weren’t very—”“Should I tape her mouth?” Dex, who looks severely underdressed for the occasion in jeans and a t-shirt, looks up at his suited boss, who’s got his eyes locked on mine, like he wants to eat me. He probably does.“No. We need her to talk. She’ll back herself into a corner sooner or later.”I breathe a sigh of relief. As much as I hate my ankles and wrists being tied, I’d take that any day over my mouth being covered. There’s something about stifling my ability to speak that gets me worked up. Maybe it’s the Italian in me. At least that’s what Bryan would say.Bryan. He should be home any second. I chew at the inside of my cheek, for the first time since this whole thing happened, worried. “I need to talk to you.” I stare the big one straight on, trying to ignore all the animal magnetism dripping off him. I guess that’s what truckloads of money get you… the look of a beast. Apparently, women dig that. Or at least I am… would… dig that if he weren’t about to kill me.His brows arch down,