Anti-Hero (Wild Heart Ranch Book 4)

“No. Fucking…no, Ant. Put something else on. You look like a preteen,” Erik commands, fussing over me like an anxious auntie, plucking imaginary lint off my shoulder.

I’m wearing a short school-girl uniform with pristine white tennis shoes kitted up with trackers from Wolfe Athletics. Erik insisted on the trackers. Neatly folded over tube socks, a glowy, dewy face cream, and an innocent, wide-eyed look complete my transformation into an underage escort.

We’re in Luca’s bar in the building he owns. Apparently, this is where his escorts come when they’re hosting, and he’s got a penthouse suite with a private entrance he keeps for well-heeled clientele who require discretion.

To set things up, Luca and Ford made the rounds at a fundraising event Park Avenue’s company sponsored last week. Luca handed out invitations to johns who’d booked underaged kids from known traffickers. Given it was a children’s wellness event, it was gross that half a dozen men greedily accepted their invites.

When I changed the plans, Luca sent out a last-minute updated invite. Every single one of them accepted, a fact as convenient as it is vomit-inducing. Fewer threads to chase down.

Standing in front of Erik, I let him insert the comms device into my ear. “I know you’re worried about me, but this isn’t New Orleans. Promise.”

He scrunches his nose, handing me the tiny gift bag filled with simple black masks and pieces of paper that have incredibly entertaining—for me—things written on them. “Fine.”

“Erik…”

Touching his comms device, he whispers, “Testing, testing—can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” I reach up and tap his nose. “Erik, talk to me.”

He looks off, and I know the only thing that’ll convince him is a successful op. In the meantime, he needs something to do, so I remove the black leather cuff Charlie gave me. “Here, take care of this for me. It’s important.”

Shifting his jaw to the side, he accepts the cuff. “I’ll keep it safe for you,” he promises, sliding it onto his wrist, barely able to buckle it through the first hole. He eyeballs me closely. “I’ll be listening in, and if I hear something even slightly off, I’m fucking breaking land speed records to get to you.”

I grin and hug his middle. “I’ll be fine. You taught me well.”

He grunts an acknowledgment and wraps his long arms around me. I rest the side of my face against his chest for a few breaths, not wanting to admit how nervous I am.

Killing is the easy part. Having to interact with Park Avenue is what I’m afraid of. I pat Erik’s chest, and after another few seconds, he finally lets me go.

I stand next to Hopper, who looks up at Erik as he inserts and tests his comms device. “If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to do this right. Which means I’m about to put my arm around your man’s waist. Is that going to get me killed?”

“He’s not my man,” Erik says a little too quickly.

Ouch.

“Okay.” Hopper snorts. “I believe you.”

Liam elbows him, and Hopper straightens. “Sorry.”

“Fine,” Erik says. “I won’t try to take your head off for putting your hands on him, but make it respectful. I’m keeping you on a short leash.”

Hopper makes a snarling sound, then barks in Erik’s face.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

Hopper tweaks his bow tie. “And proud of it. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of these guys and have your man back to you in no time.”

“He’s not—” Erik starts, then shuts his mouth. “Thank you. Ant is important to me.”

I look down, frustrated as fuck. Say it to me, asshole.

Thankfully, Hopper isn’t in the mood to pull punches. “No shit, Erik. Fuckin’ aliens on the planet Zoltan can see that.”

Hopper then possessively puts an arm around my waist, walking me out of Luca’s bar and over to the elevator.

“I don’t like this,” Erik grumbles through the comms.

I turn back, catching his eye. “Yes, Erik. I know you don’t like this. We all know you don’t like this. Unfortunately, it’s not your call to make,” I say as we wait for the elevator. “Thank you for bringing it up, though, right before I head into a dangerous situation.”

Ignoring my snark, he whines, “Why isn’t it my call to make? I’m lead on this operation.”

“That’s not a thing,” I shoot back. “We don’t have a lead. This is my bloody swath to cut across the country. You’re just here to make sure I don’t die.”

“Which I can’t do because you’re not letting me into the secret penthouse with all your fucking ra—” Erik bites off the word. His eyes squeeze shut. “Sorry. All the gross, terrible billionaires.”

I rub my forehead, grateful that he’s trying but annoyed that he’s bitching at me over comms from ten feet away. Fucking ridiculous. Hopper, seeing my annoyance, winks at me. Watch this, he mouths.

“Hey! Who’s got two thumbs and is the best guy to help Ant kill these motherfuckers?” Hopper asks, sending Erik a conspiratorial grin. Pointing his thumbs at himself, he answers, “Me.”

Even Ryder, our tech backup on comms, laughs at that one.

“Whatever.” Erik scowls at Liam. “How can you just send him up there alone with Ant? Hopper needs backup too. Those people are awful. They could be armed.”

The elevator dings as Liam’s snort filters through the line. “If you’re trying to come to me for empathy, you’re not going to get it. If I were a betting man, I’d take Hop against nearly anyone. That’s not just because I’m head over heels for the guy.”

Hopper’s grin broadens, and I can guess what those two will be up to tonight. Lucky assholes.

I don’t stay jealous for long, though, because Hop speaks up.

“I love Ant with my whole heart,” he says, escorting me into the elevator. “He’s like the little murder brother I never had. I’m going up there with him because I need to. One of these assholes hurt someone I love, so they have to die,” he says, waving as the doors close.

Hopper adjusts his tie as the elevator ascends to the top floor, and I try to regulate my breathing. The doors open—far too quickly—to a small foyer. Hop once again wraps his arm around my waist.

“Showtime,” he whispers, vibrating with excitement.

Time to face my fears.

We pass the foyer and are about to enter the living area when my feet skid to a halt on the expensive marble. Hopper stops with me. “Hey—are you okay?”

“Is something wrong with Ant already?” Erik hisses through the line.

“I’m fine, guys,” I huff out. “I just recognize several faces.”

Every man here, save for me, is wearing black-tie attire. As though being well-dressed makes the intent of this little party somehow less horrifying.

Erik curses in Norwegian. “Hop, if he can’t handle it, you’ve got to call it,” he whispers furiously.

“Hey,” I whisper back, just as furious, “I’m right here. Shut the fuck up and get out of my ear.”

More of Erik’s disgruntled noises make their way across the line as we step into the sunken living area. I take a deep breath and…yeah. I can do this. I can—

“Shit,” I whisper to Hop. “Long Island is here.”

He wasn’t on the list for this go-round, but I’ll take it.

Liam’s voice is in my ear. “A couple of our invitees brought guests.”

“Wait. How many people are up there?” Erik asks.

“Eight. Stop talking,” I say through gritted teeth and a doll-like smile.

“There were supposed to be six.”

“Shut. Up. This is going down right now.”

I fix my face as Park Avenue approaches us with an ingratiating smile.

“Cas! We’ve been waiting on pins and needles to see what you would bring us.” Looking me over, he nods his approval. “And you certainly haven’t disappointed.”

Cas? I look questioningly up at Hopper, who shakes his head. He then puts on a smile so fake I hardly recognize him.

“Oh, he’s the most cooperative little boy I’ve ever met,” Hop says, sounding like a game show host and leaning in as if he has the world’s juiciest bit of gossip. “So eager to please.”

Park Avenue cups my cheek, and his touch makes my heart go haywire as cold shivers spill down my spine. I was thirteen when he last saw me, but I have a split second of panic that he’ll recognize me.

“What a pretty boy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a pretty boy before. Well done, Cas!” Turning back to me, he winks. “We are going to have so much fun with you.”

With everything in my body spiking to high heaven, I forget my line. Hopper sends me a quick glance and immediately takes the little gift bag from me.

“You have no idea,” he says, removing the masks and shaking the little folded pieces of paper as he addresses the rest of the well-dressed awfuls. “We thought we’d start with a bit of fun. Do you want to play a game?”

Park Avenue claps his hands in delight, and the men stop their side conversations. Hopper waves them over, continuing his game show bit as he passes out the masks.

“Okay, everyone. Masks on, cocks out. This pretty boy here will walk around with this bag full of pieces of paper worth anything from a hand job to his sweet hole.”

The men smile and leer at me, rubbing their hands together. I take a deep breath, keeping my doll smile in place.

“No peeking!” he croons as they draw the masks down over their eyes. “Let’s see those cocks!”

“Fuck yeah,” Park Avenue says, donning his mask before obediently unzipping his pants with his free hand. His wealthy fuckface friends all follow suit. Blinded by their avarice, they expose themselves while greedily reaching for their pieces of paper.

“Just select your piece of paper and hold it out,” Hopper says, snarling when I have to dodge a set of wandering hands. “After, he’ll come up to you and do whatever the paper says, like a good boy. Or girl. Sound good?”

Hopper’s dropped his game show act and murder descends across his features. Good. Yes. Calm descends over me as I take in the scene. This part I know how to do.

They’re all waiting, weirdly innocent-looking, and I finally understand the phrase like lambs to the slaughter. My cock plumps at their childlike vulnerability, and my muscles loosen, releasing the last of their tension.

Hopper opens his jacket, silently withdrawing two guns with suppressors screwed onto the ends in slow-motion like some kind of Hollywood action flick.

His hands are steady, and his expression blissful as he takes aim at Long Island first, sending me a wink before putting one in the middle of his forehead. He takes down the rest two at a time. As the bodies hit the floor, each dull thud is a vice grip on my cock.

Within seconds, seven men lie dead, and I’ve had to pin my erection behind my waistband. Park Avenue, the only man left standing, tilts his ear toward the sounds, stroking his pathetic cock with one hand, still holding out the piece of paper with the other.

“Oh my God, what is going on? I can’t tell. This is so exciting!”

Hopper gestures toward my willing victim. “All yours, if you want him.”

“Oh, I do.”

“Wait, am I next?” Park Avenue asks, sounding far too hopeful for what I’ve got planned. Fucking loser.

I walk up to him, and he smiles as I pluck the paper from his greedy fingertips.

“No peeking,” I warn in a lilting, heavily accented singsong, biting back a laugh as I show the paper to Hopper.

Appendages.

We share a murderous grin as I pull the curved knife from the sheath wrapped around my ribs.

“It’s a good thing Luca’s renovating this place. I’m about to make a mess.”

“WHY DID you have them take out their cocks?” Erik growls as we roll up the last pieces of Park Avenue in construction-grade plastic.

Hopper and I exchange a look. We hadn’t even talked about that detail beforehand, but I totally know why he had them do it.

“If I’d have just said, ‘Put on this mask,’ they might’ve hesitated,” Hop reasons. “But masks on, cocks out, on the other hand, sounds like a good time, and nobody’s gonna question it.”

“Found the missing finger,” Liam calls from the bathroom.

“Whew, that had me worried,” I say, jogging over to relieve him of the detached digit. Showing it to Erik, I tuck it in with the rest of Park Avenue and smile. “Didn’t mean to get so crazy.”

Erik’s jaw tightens as he turns to Hopper and Liam. “You two good with driving the bodies out to the crematorium?”

Liam waves off Erik’s concern. “Oh yeah. Our guys out there are great. We’ve got the whole process down pat.”

Hopper pulls off his gloves and plants a wet one on Liam’s cheek. “I can’t believe you bought me my very own crematorium.”

Liam nips his nose. “Nothing but the best for my murderlove.”

I snort, and Erik glares at Liam. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Which one of us are you talking to?” Hopper asks, gesturing his thumb between Liam and himself.

“Both of you are a bad influence. Don’t encourage Ant with this lunacy. He’s going to think that’s what love looks like, and he will be disappointed when he doesn’t get a crematorium of his own.”

Hopper and Liam exchange glances, then double over with laughter.

Seeing Erik’s annoyed face, Liam ratchets it back to a snicker. “Oh. You were serious. Sorry.”

Hopper, however, pulls me into a big, messy hug. “Sorry, brother. I have no intention of being a good influence.”

“That’s why I love you, Hop.”