I’ve seen this before. Hanging around Britt’s neck.
I know Britt was here, at my condo. It seems she drove, which she doesn’t do often. But she had a complete meltdown and left. So why is her car still parked in my garage? I circle the car again, this time looking underneath and all around on the surrounding pavement. Nothing.
Britt wouldn’t leave her car here, no matter how upset she was. I live on a very busy midtown street with no sidewalks for several blocks. Unfurling my hand, I study the delicate chain. The tiny silver clasp is broken, as if the necklace were yanked off her neck, perhaps during a struggle. Fuck! I open the doors to the red BMW and climb inside, thoroughly searching the floors, seats, and every crack and crevice in between. When my hand closes around a set of keys with a BMW fob and a Souza MMA keychain, my newly awoken heart stops.
Is she upstairs waiting for me? But the necklace…
A car pulls into the garage, interrupting my thoughts. Not wanting to be seen, I duck behind Britt’s car. With the smashed window and me standing shirtless with the fabric still balled around my hand, it wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together. The engine cuts a few spaces away and someone gets out, whistling as they walk my way.
Shit. I glance around, desperate for an escape. Maybe the person won’t notice the glass on the ground. That thought dies when shoes crunch on pieces of the broken driver’s side window and the whistling stops dead.
“What the—?”
The sound of that voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Adrenaline floods my veins, pushing liquid fury to every cell in my body. I step out from behind the car, shirt around one hand, Britt’s keys and necklace clenched in the other. My eyes lock on to my prey, currently half inside the car with his upper body through the open window. The pure, instinctual violence inside me, Killer rises, shoving all other emotions to the side. He’s primed and ready to strike.
The intruder doesn’t notice until I drop the shirt and clamp a hand on the back of his neck, yanking him out of the car.
“What the hell?”
The man stumbles, but my hold is too tight. I spin him around and slam him bodily into the frame of the small coupe, my palm pressed against his chest. He recovers his balance and I see the moment he realizes exactly how much danger he’s in. His eyes widen and his jaw drops. It gives me immense satisfaction to feel his body trembling under my hand.
“Max,” I growl, leaning in until our noses nearly touch.
“W-what are you doing?” he stutters.
I move my hand to his throat and squeeze. His hands immediately go to his neck, scrabbling to remove the pressure of my tight grip.
“What did you do with her, you sick fuck?”
His eyes bulge and his face turns a dark shade of red. Wheezing, he answers. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I clamp down harder, now able to feel the rapid beat of his pulse through his jugular as well as the flexible cartilage of his windpipe.
“Don’t fuck with me, Max. Tell me where Britt is or I’ll crush your goddamn throat with my bare hands.”
Max fights hard, but tires quickly with no air pulling into his lungs. He pushes at my face and I catch a sweet, chemical odor on his fingers. That smell makes me snap. I let go of his neck and before he can recover from the lack of oxygen, I land a punch to his solar plexus, preventing him from taking in a deep breath. When he collapses to the ground, his skin taking on a white pallor, I kick him in the ribs, feeling immense satisfaction at the cracking sound that accompanies my shoe landing on his side.
Killer raises his violent head, begging to unleash on this bastard. I allow one more punch to his face, the crunch of his nose and accompanying scream making the monster in me very, very happy. As much as I desperately want to continue hurting Max, making him suffer, causing him pain beyond anything he could imagine, I stop. It takes more willpower than I’ve summoned in my life to not beat Max to death. The only thing that stops it is the need to get to Britt.
Max is on the ground, nearly unconscious. I roll him over roughly, not giving a shit about the bits of broken glass digging into his flesh. Once I have his wallet out of his pants, I read his address and throw his shit on the ground next to his bloody face. I’m far from perfect, so I bend over and grab a hunk of hair, yanking his head back.
“You’re lucky I didn’t fucking kill you, but you better listen good. If I don’t find Britt or if she’s in any way harmed, I promise, I will finish you.”
I let go, his head hitting the ground with a thump. I’m in my car, phone in hand, calling the police to direct them to pick up Max’s carcass in the parking garage while speeding toward Britt.