sharp enough to saw through his bonds.
"I came to this country when I was ten years old," Vuong was saying. "I naively thought cowboys still roamed the land and rescued innocent victims. I expected justice. But the world is not about justice, is it Miss Brighton?"
Glory looked at Tripp for help, her expression transmitting everything she felt. That if she said anything wrong, the gun beneath her skirt would explode.
He hadn't been spoken to, so not speaking seemed the wisest move. It also seemed like a cowardly one, when everything inside him screamed that he should roar like a lion and deal with the fallout that came.
And so he mouthed the only thing he thought might help. The only words that he knew she'd be able to read from his lips: I love you.
The shaky smile at the corner of her mouth bloomed in her eyes. He doubted she believed him, but at least he'd given her hope.
"Justice, Miss Brighton?"
"It should be," she said tentatively. "But, you're right. Too often it's not."
Vuong moved around behind her then and her sigh of relief filled Tripp's lungs. He wasn't even aware he'd forgotten to breathe.
"You're wrong, Miss Brighton. The world is as it should be. It's all about loyalty. Loyalty and suffering."
Glory shook her head. "I don't understand."
Tripp didn't understand either. That didn't stop him from tuning in with his antennae zinging. Or from slowly continuing to rub the zip tie along the edge of the shelving unit that had already drawn his wrist's blood.
"Your customer was loyal to his profession. I admire that. But because of that, he will suffer. I, too, must be loyal to my employer." He stood behind her now and wrapped his arm around her waist.
The arm with the hand still holding the gun. "Even if my loyalty causes suffering as well."
And then he slipped his free hand beneath Glory's skirt and reached between her legs.
Seven
Glory froze. She wanted to bolt, to scream, to spin around and knock the shit out of the man at her back. But he held her too tightly, he had a gun, and Tripp had told her he loved her. So she froze.
Tripp didn't really love her. What he was doing was keeping her spirits up. Distracting her from the fact that the gangster holding her shop under siege was now feeling up her ass.
Violation was a term she'd never thought of in personal terms. It was more about library fines, ignoring an expiration date when the milk still tasted good. It was about crossing the street on red. About pulling tags off of mattresses.
Now she understood the difference. And she wanted to curl into a fetal position and die.
Only the look on Tripp's face kept her upright. A look that told her this other man's touch wasn't about sex but about control, about power. A brow daring her to defy his certainty that she could handle anything. A set of jaws that ordered her to hold on, to be strong.
She lifted her chin. He nodded his approval. And then she did the unthinkable. She issued her own challenge to the man at her back by spreading her legs.
He released her almost immediately, walked around her as if considering whether to shoot her or slap her down. Before he could do either, the police bullhorn sounded. The shop's phone began to ring. A second later, one of his men called out.
A break in the impasse. She wanted to weep with joy.
"You'll have to excuse me, Miss Brighton. It seems I have business to take care of."
Glory didn't even nod. She simply closed her eyes while he secured her hands behind her as Tripp's were secured. When Danh walked out of the storeroom, he even had the courtesy to close the door.
It wasn't like they could keep him from coming back, considering he'd shot the lock off.
Silence descended. She'd never before realized how nearly soundproof this room really was. All she could hear was her heart beating out you're alive, you're alive.
She opened her eyes then and met Tripp's bright gaze, starting forward, wanting to throw her arms around him more than she wanted to
"I came to this country when I was ten years old," Vuong was saying. "I naively thought cowboys still roamed the land and rescued innocent victims. I expected justice. But the world is not about justice, is it Miss Brighton?"
Glory looked at Tripp for help, her expression transmitting everything she felt. That if she said anything wrong, the gun beneath her skirt would explode.
He hadn't been spoken to, so not speaking seemed the wisest move. It also seemed like a cowardly one, when everything inside him screamed that he should roar like a lion and deal with the fallout that came.
And so he mouthed the only thing he thought might help. The only words that he knew she'd be able to read from his lips: I love you.
The shaky smile at the corner of her mouth bloomed in her eyes. He doubted she believed him, but at least he'd given her hope.
"Justice, Miss Brighton?"
"It should be," she said tentatively. "But, you're right. Too often it's not."
Vuong moved around behind her then and her sigh of relief filled Tripp's lungs. He wasn't even aware he'd forgotten to breathe.
"You're wrong, Miss Brighton. The world is as it should be. It's all about loyalty. Loyalty and suffering."
Glory shook her head. "I don't understand."
Tripp didn't understand either. That didn't stop him from tuning in with his antennae zinging. Or from slowly continuing to rub the zip tie along the edge of the shelving unit that had already drawn his wrist's blood.
"Your customer was loyal to his profession. I admire that. But because of that, he will suffer. I, too, must be loyal to my employer." He stood behind her now and wrapped his arm around her waist.
The arm with the hand still holding the gun. "Even if my loyalty causes suffering as well."
And then he slipped his free hand beneath Glory's skirt and reached between her legs.
Seven
Glory froze. She wanted to bolt, to scream, to spin around and knock the shit out of the man at her back. But he held her too tightly, he had a gun, and Tripp had told her he loved her. So she froze.
Tripp didn't really love her. What he was doing was keeping her spirits up. Distracting her from the fact that the gangster holding her shop under siege was now feeling up her ass.
Violation was a term she'd never thought of in personal terms. It was more about library fines, ignoring an expiration date when the milk still tasted good. It was about crossing the street on red. About pulling tags off of mattresses.
Now she understood the difference. And she wanted to curl into a fetal position and die.
Only the look on Tripp's face kept her upright. A look that told her this other man's touch wasn't about sex but about control, about power. A brow daring her to defy his certainty that she could handle anything. A set of jaws that ordered her to hold on, to be strong.
She lifted her chin. He nodded his approval. And then she did the unthinkable. She issued her own challenge to the man at her back by spreading her legs.
He released her almost immediately, walked around her as if considering whether to shoot her or slap her down. Before he could do either, the police bullhorn sounded. The shop's phone began to ring. A second later, one of his men called out.
A break in the impasse. She wanted to weep with joy.
"You'll have to excuse me, Miss Brighton. It seems I have business to take care of."
Glory didn't even nod. She simply closed her eyes while he secured her hands behind her as Tripp's were secured. When Danh walked out of the storeroom, he even had the courtesy to close the door.
It wasn't like they could keep him from coming back, considering he'd shot the lock off.
Silence descended. She'd never before realized how nearly soundproof this room really was. All she could hear was her heart beating out you're alive, you're alive.
She opened her eyes then and met Tripp's bright gaze, starting forward, wanting to throw her arms around him more than she wanted to
Similar Books
