"Waaaah, boss, bosses, I'm begging you, please stop hitting me! I... I won't do it again, I swear! I didn't know Riley Perry was taken! If I had known, you could have beaten me to death and I still wouldn't have dared to go after her."
Cole Sinclair's men were all specially trained. They were extremely precise with their blows—they wouldn't kill you, but they'd make you wish you were dead, and no one would be able to tell. You could call the cops, but there'd be no verifiable injuries.
Watching Raymond Warren cry like a pathetic coward, Samson Sinclair's lips curled into a contemptuous smirk. "A piece of trash like you dares to fight our Young Master for a woman? You really don't know your place!"
Raymond Warren cowered and shuffled backward, terrified that the fearsome man before him would beat him again. The pain was just too much. Besides, being surrounded by over twenty burly men in black suits was genuinely terrifying, okay?
