“Gavin Blake, you’re more of a man than any man I’ve ever known. You have a heart you wear on your sleeve, and you couldn’t do a thing to make me fall more in love with you. Not a single thing.”
Now, Gavin found himself fighting a completely different battle brought on by Emily’s words. Something inside him twisted, a debate on whether or not to stop. The sick bastard below him might own his emotions in this very moment, but the woman he was willing to kill for would own his heart forever. Choosing love over evil, Gavin pulled in a steeling breath, released his hold from Dillon’s neck, and stumbled away from the desk.
Fisting his hands in his hair, Gavin paced and watched Dillon’s close to lifeless body slither to the floor, dragging stacks of paper, pens, and a telephone with it. Choking, Dillon rolled to his side and clawed to his hands and knees, his chest heaving up and down for air. A barrage of chills overtook Gavin’s system as he witnessed Dillon trying to stand. It was no use. He couldn’t. Gavin had stripped him of any and all energy he had. Gavin tore his attention from Dillon and latched onto the deep voices and banging coming from behind the door. Gavin didn’t know if they’d just started or if they were trying to get in the whole time. As Dillon’s life was slipping through his hands, time seemed to slip by, blurring from one second into the next. Swallowing hard, Gavin stalked over to Dillon and grabbed him by his hair.
Kneeling beside him, Gavin yanked Dillon’s face within inches of his. He shook as he spoke, his breath a vicious whisper. “You better listen to every fucking word I’m about to say to you.”
“Fuck off, asshole,” Dillon grit out, staring into Gavin’s eyes, his breathing still labored. “You’re going to jail for this, motherfucker.”
Gavin quickly elbowed Dillon’s mouth. Trying to jerk away, Dillon winced. Now Gavin wasn’t the only one with a split lip. Gavin gripped Dillon’s hair tighter, a sick smirk twisting his mouth. “If you report this, sure, I might go to prison. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking kill you. But just know this”—Gavin paused, trying to tamp down his sudden urge to once again choke Dillon within inches of his life—”I’ll get out one day. Oh, you bet your ass I fucking will. And when I do… nothing will stop me from killing you. Not even the insane love I have for the woman you threw away will keep me from making sure you never take another fucking breath. So, consider this bit of information before you go running to the cops. If you know me at all, then you’ll know this isn’t an empty threat from a * who likes to knock women around. This is coming from a man. A man who’ll laugh all the way to the gas chamber as your mother cries all the way to your fucking grave. Do you understand me?”
Breathing hard, Dillon stared at Gavin and remained quiet. Simple resolution to the unanswered question. Another elbow to Dillon’s mouth.
“Do you fucking understand me?” Gavin snarled, his face curled in anger.
“Yes!” Dillon replied through clenched, bloodied teeth.
“Good,” Gavin replied mildly, standing. He started for the door, but before unlocking it, he turned, his eyes narrowed. “And if I find out you showed up to her job again, I’ll make sure it’s a closed casket funeral.”
With that, Gavin unlocked the door and pushed through the crowd. Without looking back, he heard the clamor of commotion taking place in Dillon’s office. Strike that. He heard Dillon yelling at everyone to get out of his office. The edge of embarrassment in Dillon’s tone carried through the air as Gavin stepped into the elevator.
On his way down, Gavin checked his watch. With less than five minutes to make it across town, he whipped his cell from his pocket and shot Emily a text to let her know he was going to be late. By the time he made it to his car, she’d replied.
Emily: I’ll be here waiting for you. Please be careful. No speeding! I love you.