Gage is not your number ten.
“This possessiveness?”
Gage is not your number ten.
“These controlling tendencies?”
Gage is not your number ten.
“I can’t do that!” she cried, not realizing her voice had risen ten decibels until she heard it splitting her ears. “I can’t marry a jealous, possessive, controlling man. I don’t want to be one of those women who finds herself dialing 911 at two o’clock in the morning, with her house torn apart and her kids crying in the background, all while wondering how the fuck she got to that point. Honest to God, from your behavior in there, all signs are pointing to just that.”
“But the animal who locked my arm behind my back and slammed my face into the wall?” Gage motioned across the street to the fifth floor of the hospital. “He’s the beacon of perfection, right?”
“You started it and you know it. He tried to walk away, but you kept provoking him.”
“He wants you, Veda,” Gage said. “And I promise you—I promise you—I’ll break his neck first.”
Veda’s breath caught in her throat.
Gage stepped away, pointing at her. His finger shook. “I promise you that.”
Veda was stunned when he turned his back with a scoff and walked away. His stride was long and strong, betraying his anger to anyone he passed in the parking lot.
It was the first time Gage had ever walked away from her in the middle of an argument. The first time he’d left any animosity between them unresolved.
It was the first time she found herself unable to chase after him to resolve it herself.
She waited until he’d climbed into his matte black Phantom, slammed the door, and tore out of the lot, never once looking back at her. Only when he was around the corner and out of sight did she allow the tears to sting her eyes.
Her heart nearly shot up her throat.
Gage is not your number ten.
When those six words did nothing to ease the tornado swirling inside her, she slammed her eyes shut. She dredged up the only thought that could keep her distracted. The only thought that could keep her away from musings about who was, or was not, her number ten.
She thought of her number three.
She’d returned to Shadow Rock to kill the ten men who’d raped her. And though she’d quickly learned she wasn’t a killer, she’d also learned that castration was just as—if not more—effective than cold-blooded murder. Knowing her enemies would suffer for the rest of their miserable lives was one of the only things on Earth that could ease the storm within her.
The only thing on Earth besides Gage.
And he’d just walked away.
So Veda had no choice but to focus on her one remaining shard of light. Her one remaining wisp of hope that everything would be okay.
Her number three—skewered. Her number three—neutered. Her number three—violated, forever altered, inside and out. The same way he’d forever violated and altered her.
His pain was her last hope for sanity.
He was her number three.
And his name was Jax Murphy.
5
“Jax, is this honestly all you have for me?” Celeste Blackwater’s red lips quivered, as did the tea cup in her hand. The steam floating up from the cup almost masked the slight waver to her grin, but Jax Murphy caught it.
He searched her face while breathing in the minty aroma of his own tea. His eyes lowered as its warmth hit his throat. He knew the news he’d arrived with would upset Celeste, but as her pale cheeks reddened, her green eyes hardened, and her stomach tightened under her red, knee-length dress, he distantly worried she might send the hot tea in her hand flying straight for his face.
Celeste returned her teacup to its coaster, situated at the end of the family room’s glass coffee table. She sat tall and stacked her hands on top of her crossed legs, long and svelte all the way down to her pointed red toes, peeking out from her black peep-toe heels. The French script chair she sat in soared high above her head, contrasting beautifully against the ebony cliffs that climbed into the blue sky from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her. Through the French doors, cracked just enough to welcome the music of the rolling waves of the beach, a subtle breeze wafted in.
Jax set his teacup on its coaster as well, eyes falling to the stack of photographs Celeste had thrown down on the table just a moment earlier.
“Yes,” he said. “I was sure this would be more than sufficient.”
Celeste’s smile widened. She was the only person he knew whose smile grew more insincere the more it spread. Her long black hair, stark straight and shooting down well past the curve of her waist, wafted with the morning breeze sneaking into the room.
“When we spoke yesterday,” she said, “you assured me you had something that would destroy Veda Vandyke in one fell swoop.”
Jax went to respond.
Celeste wasn’t finished. “You promised me….” Her voice remained level even as it rose, a sorcery that always amazed Jax. “You promised me you had something on her that would send my son running back to me. Return him to me, unscathed.”
Jax motioned to the photo on top of the stack, a photo of Lincoln Hill alone with Veda Vandyke in her apartment. He’d managed to capture it through the open blinds in Veda’s kitchen window. In the picture, Linc was behind Veda, close enough to bury his nose in her hair, clutching her upper arms. The photo below that one, Jax knew, showed Veda turning in to Linc’s hold. And in the photo below that one, her face was cuddled into his chest with Linc’s chin cradled on top of her head.
“These photos are very intimate,” Jax said. “It’s clear that she’s found a real connection with another man. I don’t know about Gage, but if I saw my girlfriend, alone in her apartment, snuggling up to a man like this….” Jax chuckled. “I’d want to kill him.”
“It isn’t enough. As head of our family’s security team, I would’ve hoped you knew my son well enough to know that.”
Jax sat back on the couch, running a hand over his lips.
Of course he couldn’t give Celeste the real dirt he had on Veda Vandyke. The dirt that had nothing to do with her trips to the grocery store, her hospital endeavors, or even the alone time she’d spent with Lincoln Hill in her apartment. No, the real dirt he had—the dirt he knew would destroy Veda for good—was too succulent to hand off to Celeste. Not for free, anyway. It was dirt he’d decided he would, for now, keep to himself.
“I don’t want Veda and Gage to get into a tiff that will find itself easily resolved with one quick trip to the bedroom,” she breathed. “I want her destroyed beyond all human comprehension. I want him to look at her and be utterly repulsed.”
“An intimate embrace with another man, alone in her apartment, would surely be enough to repulse any man.”
Her chest swelled. “Just this once, Jax, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, because it’s become abundantly clear that you don’t yet understand. You don’t yet understand that this woman is my son’s first love.” She motioned to the photos. “This will do nothing but ruffle his feathers temporarily. He’ll be irate for a fleeting moment, and then he’ll return to her. It’ll take more than this to tear him from her. I need something that will destroy her in his mind forever.”
Jax searched her eyes across the coffee table and nodded sharply. “I understand.”
“Please don’t return to me until you have exactly what I need.”
Jax stood. “I won’t, Mrs. Blackwater. I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.”
He bent down to collect the photos stacked on the table.
Celeste froze in the midst of bringing her steaming teacup back to her lips. “Leave it.”
Jax hesitated for a moment before dropping the photos back on the table. He nodded again, stood tall, and exited the family room, making his way to the front door of the Blackwater mansion.
He didn’t know what Celeste planned to do with those photos of Veda and Linc.<
br />
And he didn’t care.
He’d learned early in life to never show his hand too quickly.
And thanks to that lesson, the photos that really mattered were still nestled comfortably in the safety of his digital camera’s hard drive.
——
It should’ve been one of the most beautiful days of Veda’s life. Unlike her number one, Todd Lockwood, Eugene Masterson hadn’t gone into hiding when she’d expelled his balls from his body. No. So shredded and furious by the violation, Eugene had showcased his pain loud and proud. He’d snapped on nurses. He’d barked at doctors. He’d exploded at detectives. He’d spent the entire day dedicated to making every employee in that hospital just as miserable as he was.
It was clear to everyone that his anger was really pain. Hurt. Frustration.
Veda should’ve been lapping up his pain like water. She should’ve been using it as fuel to continue on to her number three. She should’ve been having the time of her fucking life.
Instead she’d spent the first half of the morning apologizing profusely to Linc, who’d continually insisted that it wasn’t her fault until he’d been forced to leave the hospital in pursuit of another case. Even after Linc’s departure, Veda still couldn’t enjoy Eugene’s misery because she was now on the receiving end of Dr. Britler’s infuriating, thin-ass, smirking lips, which a nurse was thankfully in the process of hiding behind the blue surgical mask she was tying over his nose and mouth.
Of course, there wasn’t a surgical mask in existence that could stop Dr. Britler from flapping his arrogant gums.
“So, Veda,” he said, the mask wobbling under his lips, the condescending smile still present as day in his voice and his eyes. “It wasn’t enough to cost one sap his job, his dignity, and his livelihood? You had to drag Detective Hill into the mix, too?”
Veda clutched the bronze chip in her hand, unable to stop the small smile that wanted to bloom as he said the name of the man who’d given it to her. The vision of Linc on the beach ten years before, moments after he’d saved her life, was not enough to keep the gentle smile on her face, however. She tightened her fist. The corners of the bronze chip nipped her palm, and when it didn’t immediately relax her like it usually did, she took a deep breath, the scent of sanitizer filling her nostrils. Her eyes raced across the sterile operating room, catching sight of all the nurses who were holding back laughter.
“I have nothing to do with the choices two grown men decide to make while they’re on the clock and in the presence of others,” she said.
“I think we all know Gage Blackwater isn’t punching anyone’s clock anymore.” Dr. Britler’s eyes smiled. “Is he, Veda?
She bit back a scream. “Since when is it okay for me to speak in your operating room? Last time I checked, Doctor, my opinion doesn’t matter because this is not a democracy. Or aren’t those the words you say to me every time I’m forced to perform a surgery with you?”
A tight silence fell in. Even the tittering nurses quieted down, turning their backs to both Veda and Dr. Britler as they continued prepping the room.
Veda held his icy gray eyes when they glared at her, and cursed his existence.
There he was, Eugene Masterson, lying on the bed before her, passed out from the medication she’d already injected him with. The same medication she’d pumped into his veins the night she’d destroyed his life forever.
There he was, Eugene Masterson, ready for surgery. The surgery where his new fake testicles were set to be implanted. The surgery he’d decided, while holding back tears, to have today, before the doctors had a chance to stitch up his wounds from the attack two nights earlier. Two birds, one stone and all.
There he was, Eugene Masterson, having the worst day of his life, and Veda couldn’t even fucking enjoy it.
She’d never hated Dr. Britler as much as she hated him right then.
How dare he steal her joy that way?
She swiveled in her rolling chair when Dr. Britler didn’t respond, staring blankly at the state-of-the-art anesthesia machine before her.
The serene silence was short-lived. From the opposite side of the operating table, his voice rang in again, and Veda rolled her eyes.
“Just don’t come too close.” Dr. Britler held his hands out. “You might be infective, Veda, and I really need this job.”
She cut her eyes at him. “You’re so lame.”
Thankfully, Dr. Britler grew bored with her, lowering his head so a nurse could place a pair of goggles on his face, protecting his eyes from the LED lamps blaring overhead. Nurses continued preparing the room, and Veda was left free to stare at Eugene’s sleeping face.
She felt Dr. Britler’s gaze on her as a nurse slapped a plastic cap over his graying hair and helped him into his surgical gown. He held out his arms, showcasing his scrawny frame, his eyes locked on her.
But Veda was no longer paying attention to him, too taken by Eugene and the beautiful fantasies racing through her head.
When he’d woken up with his balls missing, had he screamed? Had he cried? Had he experienced a moment of just wanting to die? A moment where nothing else in the world mattered but the pain in his heart? Where he couldn’t think of a single ray of hope, or spot a single beam of light at the end of a long, never-ending tunnel of darkness?
Had he experienced all of the above?
Veda’s chest expanded. She hoped he had.
She hoped he’d suffered.
She hoped, even after they finished implanting his new balls, that he continued to suffer. She hoped the side effects from the castration—breast enlargement, hot flashes, and osteoporosis—pursued him like a curse until his dying day, despite taking the prescribed testosterone medication. She hoped every woman he met and felt an attraction to immediately left him once they learned he couldn’t have kids.
She hoped he lived every single day of his life in pain. She hoped every breath he took came up short. She hoped his heart never once stopped peeling away from itself.
She hadn’t even realized she was smiling at him.
“What the hell are you so goddamn happy about?”
Her eyes rose from Eugene up to Dr. Britler, and her smile vanished.
God, she hated surgeons.
6
After the day from hell, enduring Dr. Britler’s motor-mouth during Eugene’s surgery—which had gone long—as well as the sour stares from everyone in the hospital, Veda was exhausted. She sighed deeply as she stepped into the foyer of Gage’s mansion, readying herself for round two. She’d barely survived the silent boxing match between her and her colleagues. Part of her wasn’t sure she could endure another round with her boyfriend.
Unlike her co-workers, Gage knew her well enough to throw the kind of blows that would really count. The right hook that would send her stumbling backward. The uppercut that would have her collapsing against the ropes. The sucker punch that would bring her to her knees. He knew her so well he could easily knock her out with one well-timed hit.
So when she stepped into the foyer and was met with a line of candles and rose petals, set up in the shape of a mountain trail, leading down the foyer steps and around the corner, a gasp raced up her throat. The work bag on her shoulder fell to the floor. Tears burned her eyes.
“Oh, baby.” She clapped a hand over her lips, which were slowly turning down at the corners as emotion took over her body.
He wasn’t planning on throwing a sucker punch at all. The cage match she’d been readying herself for during the entire drive home was not going to happen. And she knew right then, before even taking the first step down, that she’d already forgiven him. It didn’t even matter what he had to say once she made it to the place where that glimmering path ended.
She loved him, and not only had she already forgiven him, but she was sorry too. She followed the path down the steps, through the grand foyer, and around the corner, all while preparing her apology.
Her apology.
Her least favorite thing to
do in the world.
She was truly apologetic. Truly sorry… because it was more clear than ever that Gage was not her number ten.
Her number ten would never be so thoughtful as to build a rose and candle path that led to the open doors of his backyard, around the infinity pool outside, and straight to the house deck that disappeared over the edge of the cliff. Her number ten would never have the capacity to care so much.
Could he?
The answer wasn’t just no, but hell no.
Veda sucked in a deep breath, her tear-filled eyes rising to the starry night sky outside. She followed the candlelit path around the sparkling turquoise pool. She drank in the vast ocean in the distance. Flashes of white light sparkled on its black surface, courtesy of the plump moon sitting high in the sky. Black rocks, some taller than others, soared out of the vast waters for miles around.
The trail led her all the way to the edge of the jagged black cliff that Gage’s mansion sat on top of. She took hold of the white railing that awaited her at the edge, where the candle path ended.
An expansive house deck had been built on the edge of the massive bluff, with a white staircase that descended the rocks, stopping at three different levels. The first level, the smallest of the three, housed a fire pit surrounded by a square gray couch that was littered with an array of colorful pillows. The fire pit had been activated and the flame lapped high, billowing white smoke that fluttered against the starry sky. The level below that was a little larger, dotted with lounge chairs and a tall white gazebo lined with sheer white curtains. They blew in the evening breeze. A dining table sat underneath it, fully set with all the trimmings, tall white candles flickering in the middle. On the final level, hundreds of feet down, was a sunken Jacuzzi. The small staircase at the end of that level led straight to the black sands of the beach, so close to the water that the white bubbles of the waves flirted with the bottom step.
Across those crashing waves, and the black sands of the beach, at the top of another rocky black cliff, the only cliff on the island where waterfalls gushed, sat the Blackwater family’s white stone mansion. Veda’s eyes pursued the stone columns on the second-story balcony, but she lowered them before her mind took her somewhere she didn’t want to be.
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