Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(59)

“Bullshit.”

“I’m telling your mom you said that,” I reply.

“No, you’re not. So, do I know her? I saw you flirting with my cousin at the shower. Is it her?”

“No,” I snap. “You’re nosey.”

She smiles at me before I notice the way her eyes travel to the window behind me. Suddenly, her face falls. “Let’s go,” she mutters quickly.

“What? Why?” I ask, turning to see what she saw when I spot Kyle sitting at one of the tables with a spiky-haired girl in a black goth outfit.

“Come on. Let’s just go.” Sophie stands up in a rush, tossing what’s left of her ice cream in the trash, and heads toward the door.

“Is that Kyle? Is he with another girl?” I shout. My blood starts to boil, seeing the hurt wash over her.

“I don’t care,” she mumbles as she rushes out the door and to the car.

As I follow behind her, I notice the little fucker’s face turn to shock as he spots Sophie crossing the parking lot. “Sophie?”

“Come on, Beau,” she calls after me, ignoring the dickhead.

“No. Fuck that.” As I march toward the guy, his eyes fill with fear. When he stands up, holding his hands in surrender, I realize this kid, who can’t be older than sixteen, is easily as tall as me and almost as wide.

“I’m sorry!” he stammers as I grab the collar of his shirt. Rage boils inside me as his eyes track Sophie. The cotton of his T-shirt tears in my grasp as I drag him closer. I’m not sure where this switch was flipped inside me, but it’s like last night all over again. I’m hovering out of the frame, watching this all unfold, and I have no power to stop it. I’m not exactly sure why I hate this guy so much, why I want to hurt him so badly, or why I can’t seem to recognize myself anymore.

All I see is red.

“Beau, stop it!” Sophie screams from the parking lot.

“Take your hands off me, man,” Kyle argues as he struggles to get out of my hold.

“You’re a slimy piece of shit,” I say with a sneer. “You don’t treat people like this. You don’t hurt the girls who are good to you, you fucking asshole. You think you can treat them like they mean nothing, like they don’t matter, but she matters.” When I release his collar, freeing one hand to point at Sophie, I freeze as I notice the tears streaming down her face. Her eyes are on me, pleading with me to stop, and I briefly remember what she said to me just a few weeks ago.

I know you think you’re being chivalrous, and I appreciate you looking out for me, but beating up jerks isn’t going to make anything better.

She literally asked me not to do this. She knew this was what it would come to, how I would react. I’m no better than her dad…always on the attack. Throwing punches and shouting insults instead of listening.

My grip loosens on Kyle’s shirt as the regret takes hold. When I look back at him, his face is red and his chest is heaving rapidly with his own anger.

And I’ll gladly take whatever he’s about to give me, which I genuinely expect to be some colorful language—not a mean right hook. I did not see that coming. And as his fist pummels me into motion, and the pain knocks me to the ground, breaking the fall with my own face, the last thought in my head is—I deserve this.





Rule #25: Punishment won’t clear your sins, but an apology might.





Maggie





I’ve scrolled through the rental properties in Phoenix for so long, I keep expecting there to be some answers in these photos. Am I making the right choice? Is it really a good time for me to leave Briar Point, even if it’s only for six months? Especially with everything going on between me and Beau.

I mean, maybe a fresh start is good. Maybe dating again in a new city with new co-workers and a new club is what I need. I could start over and find another sub, still exploring this new Domme version of myself.

Or maybe he could come visit. I could see us there, free from all of the judgment of our friends and family, free to live the life we want. Together. Would he want that? Would he really come visit me? Would he stay?

These are dangerous ideas. Getting attached to a life like this could be beyond harmful, but I can’t help it. It’s too tempting. A fantasy of days like today every day.

But realistically, it’s only been a month. We’re moving too fast, aren’t we?

There’s a knock on the door, and I freeze in fear as Ringo starts barking wildly. As I descend the stairs, the knock is back. My first thought is that it’s the same people who were responsible for vandalizing Beau’s car. But it’s after ten at night. Would they really come to my house and knock on my door? I pull out my phone, ready to call Emerson or 9-1-1 or do something when I hear a voice.

“Maggie, it’s me.”

Beau.

In a rush, I run across the foyer and tear open the door. He’s standing on my doormat, an ugly red scrape running from his cheek to his forehead on one side of his head and a large purple bruise forming under the other eye.

“Oh my God, Beau!” I say with a gasp as I pull him inside. “What happened to you?”

He groans as he holds his head. I pull him into the kitchen and rush to the sink to grab a towel, running it under the warm water of the faucet.