Owen 468

Owen

The cool stream rushes over my fingers, turning the water pink as the blood swirls down the drain. Sahib lets out a disappointed sigh. “I hoped this would go better.”

I don’t respond because I know he’s not talking to me. The silence that follows is telling. I finish washing my hands, then turn to lean against the sink as I dry them, waiting for Anthony to say something. Anything to excuse this behavior. When he doesn’t, Sahib sighs again. “Anthony, this isn’t our first dance. In fact, you’re one of my veteran clients. I’m hurt, wounded, really, that you would make such a bold attempt on my life. And with the Blacksmith present, no less,” he tuts. “I would have thought you smarter than that.”

Anthony shakes in the chair we tied him to as he stares at his bodyguard’s corpse. It was ballsy, thinking he’d get away with letting his bodyguard loose on Sahib. It was also incredibly stupid and rather shady of him to allow his bodyguard to attempt it. Especially with me here. Has Anthony fallen so far? I wrinkle my nose when the smell of piss permeates the air. Really? When he opens his mouth, he only proves me right. “Sahib,” he says in a broken whisper, “I… I don’t have it.”

Sahib raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. Anthony’s wide eyes flick to me, then back to Sahib. “I… sh it, I… I used your loan to… to pay off another loan, and I—”

“Anthony…” Sahib’s voice is cold. “Are you that stupid?”

Anthony shakes like a leaf, his skin a chalky gray and covered in a gross sheen of sweat. He knows he’s fucked up. Big time. Sahib is one of the biggest loan sharks in the city. There aren’t many, but the ones of note are notorious for being rivals. Keeping away from each other and each other’s clients is an unspoken but very important rule. Shit gets messy, bloody, and deadly when those paths cross. I’ve seen the city on the verge of war before because two loan sharks got a lot of money mixed up in the same shitshow. So, for someone like Anthony, who has been around for a couple of decades, to blatantly break that cardinal rule, he knows the consequences will be drastic.

“Sahib, I had no choice. I was upside down. If I didn’t, I would have—” Anthony lets out a choked gasp when, after a signal from Sahib, I step over to him and pinch his windpipe. Sahib has his hand up in a silencing motion and stands to lord himself over Anthony. An intimidation tactic that almost always works.

“Anthony, I’m afraid our business relationship will have to come to an end. Well, after you’ve paid your substantial debt to me, of course. I’m going to send the Blacksmith here to collect your lovely daughter. She’s just turned nineteen, yes?” Anthony tries to scream, but my grip on his throat is too strong. “She will be a fine addition to my collection of girls. I’m in need of a new one right now anyway.” He glances at me with a wink before continuing. “She’ll work in my club serving, dancing, fucking, anything required of her. Until you pay me or she’s worked off your debt.”

Sahib nods, then I nod back before picking up Anthony and dropping him to the floor. Caging him in, I pick up my hammer and crush his wrist under my knee. I raise up my tool and bring the iron face down on his hand, shattering the delicate bones and relishing his agonizing scream.

Sahib bends down, grips his face, and turns his head toward the corpse of his bodyguard and his mangled hand. “A simple reminder to never cross me. I’ll be watching, Anthony, and when our business has concluded? Run. Try to hide.”

I smirk as Anthony shakes under me. “I’ll find you.”

***

I was impressed with Anthony’s daughter. She understood what was happening and accepted her new life with a backbone her father should envy. I rarely feel anything for a person outside of Kyrie and Sahib, but I genuinely hope she doesn’t get broken too much. The kid might actually make it; she’s smart. As soon as I showed up to collect her, she whispered my name— the Blacksmith .

That was my true profession once upon a time in Ireland. When I first came to the States and opened a shop, I struggled to make ends meet. I borrowed from Sahib to stay afloat, and when it came time to collect, his goon went against the agreement I’d made and tried to rape Lynn for payment. I killed him. Sahib had been close by and witnessed. Told me I’d saved him the trouble of killing a waste himself and offered to wipe my debt in exchange for replacing his bodyguard and collector. I kept my blacksmith’s hammer as my weapon of choice, earning me a feared nickname.

Kyrie has no idea what Sahib and I do for a living. She thinks he owns several high-end clubs and that I’m his head of security. Not untrue. He does own clubs, just not the kind she thinks, and I’ll do anything in my power to keep her away from that world.

I haven’t seen Kyrie yet today, and my skin is crawling with anticipation. After parking in the driveway, I hurry to the door, ready to see her, to look in her beautiful green eyes and hold her attention for those few intense moments. The door closes with a heavy thud behind me when I enter. Kyrie is in her usual spot at the kitchen island and flinches with the sound of my approach, but I think nothing of it. I stride past her, breathing in the floral scent of her shampoo, and grunt my usual greeting as my cock thickens. “Hey, Princess.”

I retrieve a glass before filling it with water and turning to lean against the counter. Taking my first sip, I level my gaze at Kyrie, and my throat dries up despite the water.

She’s not looking at me.

Every day, we do this. It’s the one time I have her to myself and when she obeys my silent command to give me her eyes, her attention, her everything . I slam my glass down on the counter. Her body jerks, the only indication she’s even paying attention to my presence. Still, she stares down at her books. I step forward, my gaze drilling into her, demanding she look up and see me. Nothing. I move forward again, my steps getting heavier. Finally, I’m pressed up against the island, my hands planted on the counter, yet she still ignores me. I can’t take it; I need her. How dare she steal this from me? My anger slips out in a deep growl, and she trembles as she snaps her gaze up to me, cheeks flushed pink. The fire in those blown pupils burns through every carefully constructed wall I ever erected for myself. Every impulse I fought and pushed onto someone who could never hold a candle to my princess surges to the surface, and I crack.

I round the counter, and her shocked state gives me the opening I need. I scoop her up from her stool, and her legs wrap around me as I slam her against the kitchen wall. My mouth crashes down onto hers in a brutal kiss that speaks of every repressed desire. One hand clasps her round ass cheek, and I grind my cock against her hot core. She gasps, and I’m too far gone to think straight, so I take the opportunity to surge my tongue into her mouth. I snake my other hand up, fisting her hair as I hold her to me tightly, letting her feel just how much I want her, need her. Her hands fall to my shoulders, her delicate fingers digging into my muscles. I swear she pulls me closer, but then the bubble bursts.

A loud knock at the door has both of us gasping and our eyes flying open as I drop her and step back. Our chests heave as we try to catch our breath. She stands there with a flushed face, blown pupils, and lips swollen from my kiss. Her hair is messy from my fingers, and the sight has my dick twitching in my slacks. The knock sounds again, louder this time. Kyrie is the first to regain herself. She jumps to attention, finger-combing her messy strands as she races to the door like her ass is on fire. I’m sure she wants to escape the reality of what happened as much as I do. However, when she opens the door and I see the boy standing on the other side, my blood boils.

“Nate.”