The Billionaire's Game(70)

“I don’t just care about her, I fucking love her,” Kade interrupted his brother furiously. “I love her so much that I can’t think straight. I want to kill anyone who hurts her, and I can’t stand the thought of her having one moment of unhappiness after all she’s been through. I think about her all day long, and I dream about her at night. There’s no hope on this one, Trav. She’s it for me. She’s my life now. I’m right there with Simon, Sam, and Max.” It was a place he’d never dreamed he’d one day be, but he didn’t regret it.

Travis sighed. “Shit,” he mumbled irritably. “So I’m going to be the only survivor. The only sane guy in our group?”

“I’m not so sure sane is all that great,” Kade replied. “It’s lonely and dark. I’d rather be certifiable and have Asha in my life.”

“Don’t expect me to visit you in the psych ward after she dumps you. I haven’t found a woman yet who’s worth losing my common sense over,” Travis drawled, his tone dark and broody.

Kade knew Travis was putting on a front, a mask for all the emotions that lay behind the cynicism. He gave Travis his usual answer. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know,” Travis answered agreeably.

Kade turned a sharp corner, his mind focused on Asha. “I’m almost there. I’ll call you later,” Kade told Travis impatiently.

“Something’s up. I can feel it. Be careful,” Travis said soberly.

Kade didn’t question Travis’s intuition. They were twins, and sometimes they could sense each other’s emotions. And, although Travis would never admit it, he had a rather eerie ability to read and feel future events. Only Travis knew if it was just incredible intuition, or if there was more to his ability. He refused to talk much about it.

“Later,” Kade replied simply, clicking the button to end their communication as he pulled into the parking lot of Asha’s apartment building, and jumped out of the car the moment he killed the engine.

The sound of sirens wailing, sounding like they were headed in his direction, made Kade’s entire body tense as he jogged awkwardly toward the building, knowing he wasn’t going to relax until he saw for himself that Asha was safe.

“Fuck! She’s coming home with me tonight and she’s staying forever,” Kade whispered harshly to himself as he reached the elevator, pushing the up button impatiently.

Kade’s patience was gone, and all he could think about was keeping Asha beside him where she belonged before he lost his mind.

His jaw set, his mind made up, the elevator door closed on Kade’s stony, determined expression as he jammed the button for her floor, more than ready to throw Asha over his shoulder and take her home—whether she was ready or not.





Asha put all of the rage from her oppressed years into her life-and-death battle with Ravi, but it wasn’t enough. He had her on the floor, his pungent body odor nearly gagging her. Her ex-husband’s temper had always been on a short leash, blaming the world for his problems and taking them all out on her. But something was different, the wild look in his eyes telling her his mind had completely snapped. It was obvious he hadn’t showered in days, and his number-one priority was seeing her dead. At one time, she’d been afraid he would kill her by injury during a beating. Now, her death seemed to be his only purpose, his sole intent.

Her arms pinned to her side by Ravi’s weight, Asha tried to buck him off her body, but she could barely budge him, his substantially heavier weight and level of strength hampering her efforts. He grasped her braid, using it as a weapon to keep her head still as he brought the knife to her vulnerable neck. Ranting in Telugu, he increased the pressure, the edge of the knife beginning to cut into her skin, but he didn’t make the final slice.

Asha knew exactly what he wanted, and part of her wanted to beg for her life, but it wouldn’t matter. Hadn’t she begged his forgiveness in the past for perceived slights or wrongs that she hadn’t committed? It hadn’t saved her from a horrific beating, and begging wouldn’t save her now. Staying mute, she met his dark, crazy eyes with a defiant stare, something she never would have done in the past. He was going to kill her, but she’d never apologize for who and what she was ever again.

She was Asha Paritala, daughter of a progressive Indian man who had helped Indian women become successful in America.

And the man above her was nothing but her murderer.

Prepared for a fatal blow, Asha was stunned as Ravi was lifted from her body faster than her eyes could follow, his body flung backward and onto the floor at her feet. Sitting up, she scrambled backward, watching in fascinated horror as Tate Colter easily stripped Ravi of the sharp knife, and left him lying on her floor bleeding, with a single and incredibly powerful strike to the face. Flipping the older Indian man over, Tate put a knee in his back, keeping him immobile as he dialed the police on a cell phone he’d pulled from his pocket.