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Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance)(115)

By:Emilia Kincade


I grimace, push back from him, sit up against the pillar. I see the glint of gunmetal. He’s taken out his own gun. It’s a huge revolver.

“This’ll take your head clean off,” he says, jamming the barrel under my chin. “Your neck will just be a bloody stump if I pull this trigger. I’ll keep your head, too, put it in a jar of that preserving liquid, keep it in my office, you fucking prick.”

I look into his eyes, force my racing heart to calm, then give him a big, bloody-mouthed grin. “You said you had something special planned for me, Glass?”

“Oh, yes,” he says, sneering at me. “After all I did for you, Duncan. Look at what you’ve become. I should have known it would all be a waste. But now I’m going to have a grandson. I don’t need you anymore.”

I widen my eyes.

“Of course I know it’s a boy, you dumb fuck. You think we couldn’t get to a fucking obstetrician? I also know you’re the father, as if that wasn’t obvious. You defiled my daughter under my own roof after I rescued you, you fucking mongrel,” he says, venom in his voice. “You fucking dog, you fucking dirty piece of shit. You put shame on my family; you gave me no choice.”

“You shame yourself,” I say.

“There is one consolation. With my genes in the bloodline, and yours? My grandson will be a champion fighter. I’ll make him the best there ever was.”

“You can’t outrun your history,” I tell him. “You’ll always be the prize-fighter who couldn’t. Your legacy can never change.”

“Youth!” Glass barks, looking toward the white Mercedes. “So fucking stupid. Come on, get up.”

He steps backward, gestures at me to get to my feet with the gun. I climb up slowly, back against the pillar. My chest feels like it is on fire, like I’ve been drowning in boiling water.

“Good, good,” Glass says. “You’re still in fighting shape.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Fighting shape?

It clicks. The huge man, something special planned.

Glass is going to make me fight the brute, and in this condition, I’ll probably lose.

“One last fight, eh?” Glass says. “For old time’s sake.”

“Nobody betting on this one.”

“Oh, it’s not for me. Well, that’s a lie. It is for me. But it’s for Deidre, too.”

I nod, calm myself down even more. Good. If he’s going to take me to her, then that just simplifies things. It’s a long shot, but I have to play it.

“You’re going to make her watch?”

“Bullock over here is from Ukraine. He’s something of a legend over there. I can’t pronounce his real name so I gave him that nickname. I was going to call him Bruticus, but then I realized he kind of looks like a fucking bull, doesn’t he?”

“He probably prefers his own name, Glass.”

“Big fucking head, might as well have horns. Bullock.” He nods, sucks on his upper lip for a moment. “What a good name. I’m proud of that one. And his balls! This man has some big fucking balls on him. He ain’t afraid of nothing.”

I turn to the huge man now sitting in the Mercedes. The two-door sports car looks comically small around him.

“He’ll break you,” Glass says. “He’ll snap every bone in your fucking body. He’ll tear your vertebrae from each other. Then, while you’re still barely alive, I’ll fucking kill you. The last thing you see will be my face before you go to hell for what you’ve done to my daughter.”

I lick my lips, grin at him. “The devil will be a welcome sight compared to your ugly mug.”

Glass bursts out laughing. “You always were a little crazy, you know that, Duncan? I liked that about you.” He points toward the Mercedes. “In the back.”

I walk around, wary of the huge revolver pointed straight at my head, and open the passenger side door. I move the seat forward, climb into the tiny back seats, and Glass gets in after. I’ve got to lift my legs up onto the seat.

“To the school, Bullock,” he says. “We have an audience waiting.”

The drive is short. Glass takes me to some high school in the suburbs. Once we stop, he meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, and a flash of lightning makes his shine like a demon’s.

“It’s so hard to find a good fighting surface in the streets,” he says, sneering. “We’re going to do this right.”

I’m ripped from the car by Glass, and I hold onto my chest, each breath sending throbbing pain right down to my toes. The cold rain is refreshing, and I look up for a moment, let some of it wet my eyes.