“Thea, that b***h!” Peter Green cursed, slamming his palm hard against the steering wheel of his SUV. The dark glasses he wore earlier were tossed onto the passenger seat, his jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Rage burned in his chest, hot and humiliating. Inside the club, he had watched everything fall apart in seconds.
One moment, he was in control, observing from a distance, planning. The next, chaos. Blood. Screams. A broken man dragged away. And her. Thea Whitehouse. Standing calm, untouched, watching consequences unfold like she had written them herself.
He pressed his foot harder on the accelerator, breathing fast, his thoughts scattered. That woman was trouble. Not the kind you flirted with or used.
The kind you eliminated. He told himself he should have known the moment she t
