C84 Little Excitement Never Hurts

The car tore through the darkened streets, its tyres screeching as Tad slammed his fist against the dashboard. He was seething, his chest heaving with barely contained rage.

Beside him, his so-called friend sat lounging as if they hadn’t just left a storm of bullets behind them.

The smug grin on the man’s face was enough to make Tad want to throttle him.

"What the hell was that back there?" Tad barked, his voice sharp with anger. "You said we were making a quick stop, not walking into a fucking war zone!"

The man turned to him with an air of casual amusement as he brushed nonexistent dust from his tailored jacket.

The sleek leather gleamed under the dim light spilling into the car.

The rich texture contrasted sharply with Tad’s crumpled shirt.

"Relax, Tad," the man said, his tone maddeningly calm. "A little excitement never hurts anyone."

"Excitement?" Tad’s voice pitched higher as his hands clenched into fists. "That wasn’t excitement! That was a damn shootout! And I didn’t sign up for this shit!"

"You’re overreacting," the man replied, waving a hand dismissively.

His silver cufflinks glinted in the faint light, catching Tad’s eye and only adding fuel to his anger.

"Overreacting?" Tad’s face twisted in fury. He jabbed a finger in the man’s direction. "You think this is some game? I’m not your errand boy!"

He had been told it would be just a night out for some fun.

Somehow, he had seen deals being made before him.

Then one of them tried to shortchange his friend, and everything had turned out not so well very fast.

Tad had been lucky to not get his brains blown off.

He had rushed out to see his friend's car pulling out without so much as a care if Tad had escaped the shootout.

He had only clapped him on his shoulder as Tad got him and winked to him that he was learning how to think like them fast.

The man’s grin widened, a glint of danger flashing in his cold, pale grey eyes. "Oh, but you are," he said smoothly to Tad's initial outbursts. "And might I remind you, you’re still here because of me. Friends help each other out, don’t they?"

Tad bristled, his body stiffening.

He wanted to lash out, to tell this arrogant bastard exactly what he thought of him.

But the weight of what he owed hung over him like a noose.

The mess his so-called friend had cleaned up for him was still a sword dangling dangerously over his head.

The dead whore. The videos and photos that had been taken before the mess was cleaned up were still so vivid in his mind.

"You call this help?" Tad spat, his lip curling.

The man chuckled, a low sound that sent a chill down Tad’s spine. "You needed a favour, and I delivered. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now."

Tad’s mind flashed back to that night.

By the way, everything had spiralled out of control.

It had started innocently enough, a night of drinks and promises.

Then, somehow, it had turned into a web of deals and threats, and Tad had found himself in deeper than he’d ever intended.

He clenched his teeth, glaring out the window at the passing lights. "I didn’t come to Acadia for this," he muttered.

"Ah, yes," the man drawled, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Annabelle. The obsession you can’t seem to shake."

Tad’s head snapped around, his glare locking onto the man. "When are you going to give me the information you promised?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The man chuckled again.

Then he patted Tad’s thigh as if he were a child throwing a tantrum.

Tad flinched at the touch, his lip curling in disgust.

"Patience," the man said, his tone patronizing. "Patience, my friend. Everything will fall into place soon enough. And when it does, I’ll hand her to you on a silver platter."

The words hit Tad like a jolt of electricity.

His breath hitched, and an involuntary shudder ran through him.

His mind conjured an image.

Annabelle, bound and helpless, delivered to him as if she were a prize to be claimed.

The thought sent a rush of heat through his body, and he swallowed hard, his hand moving instinctively to his crotch.

He couldn't stop the thrill that coursed through him as he imagined her trembling before him while she did all his bidding.

She would soon realise that resisting him was a foolish thing to do.

The man’s grin widened, his gaze sharp and knowing. "See? That’s the spirit," he said, his voice a sly purr.

Tad tore his gaze away, focusing on the road ahead.

The car’s interior suddenly felt stifling, the tension between them thick and oppressive.

He hated how easily the man seemed to read and manipulate him.

"I’m not your puppet," Tad muttered under his breath.

The man arched a brow, leaning back in his seat. "No, you’re my friend," he said, his tone mockingly sweet. "And friends stick together. Remember that."

Tad’s jaw tightened, his hands fisted against his thighs.

He didn’t respond as he bit back the litany of curses bubbling in his throat.

The car screeched to a halt at a red light, the harsh glow of the traffic signal casting an eerie red hue over the interior.

Tad glanced out the window, his mind churning with frustration and anger.

This wasn’t what he had come here for.

Though there were parties, drinks, women and money being thrown around regularly, Tad

He had left Stoneraine with one goal.

To find Annabelle and bring her back where she belonged.

Instead, he had stumbled into a world of drug dealing, anger and deception.

All tethered to a man whose motives he couldn’t fully trust.

And yet, he couldn’t walk away.

Not now.

Not when he was so close to having her within his grasp.

The light turned green, and the car lurched forward.

Tad stared straight ahead, his jaw set and his mind racing.

He would play along for now.

But one way or another, he would find a way to get what he wanted.

Annabelle would be his.