Gripping the waistband of his jeans, I tore the button off and zip down. I then yanked them and his briefs down. He stood in front of me, naked with his pants around his ankles, anger and fear rolling off him in equal parts.
And then he really started fighting for his life.
Bring it the fuck on.
His punch clocked my cheek as I straightened from lowering his pants. I’d expected it and retaliated by dropping my head and ramming it into his chest while wrapping my arms around his torso. Using all my strength, I swung him around and barrelled him to the ground. He landed so hard I was concerned I’d knocked him out, which was not my intention. But, his body writhed under mine telling me he was still in this fight.
Legs and arms kicked and clawed at me in his attempt to escape. I had to have fifty pounds on him, though, so he was no match.
Pressing my lower body down on his, restraining his legs, I took hold of his wrists and pinned him to the ground, pushing my chest up off his. “You wanna fight? I can guarantee that you won’t win.”
“I’ll fucking die before I’ll tell you anything,” he spat.
I stared down at him, wondering just how long I’d have to draw this shit out. As much as I could inflict pain all night long, I was aware the cops had increased their nightly sweeps of the city in the last week, so I needed to move this along.
I moved his hands above his head so I could pin both of them to the ground with one of mine rather than both, and then reached into my pocket for my phone.
Pulling Devil’s number up, I dialled him. “Get me that photo of his bitch. And draw some fucking blood for it.”
“On it.” The line went dead and he left to take care of my request.
I met the asshole’s eyes again. “You might be willing to die, but let’s see if you’re ready to let us chop your old lady up.”
His hard eyes held mine, probably calculating his options. They then narrowed and he said, “You’re full of shit. You do that or kill me, my club only escalates this further, and your club is down so many members you wouldn’t be able to win that battle.”
His club, the Silver Hell MC, had spent the last three months exacting revenge on ours for King, our president, killing one of their members. King had killed him because he’d hurt King’s sister. But their revenge had involved far more than simply going after King or our members. They’d also gone after our families, hurting them any way they could. The truce they’d called for last week wasn’t one we were interested in.
I hissed. “What you’re failing to realise here is that King declared war today. You thought we’d accept your truce? No fucking way. You’ve no idea who he’s called in, but I’ll tell you now that our numbers have been more than replenished. And one other thing… you should have known that no one fucks with King and gets away with it.”
I let go of his hands and slid myself down his body so I could grab his dick. I then scored my blade along the length of it. Not deep, just enough for blood to pool.
“Fuck!” he roared, trying unsuccessfully to fight me. “King doesn’t give a shit about you. He’s built that club full of members who do his dirty work, and it’s all for his own gain. When are you going to wake up and see that?”
I cut into his dick again. His body jerked underneath me while he continued to battle me for control. “When are you going to wake the fuck up and see that King gets his hands dirtier than any of us could ever dream of? And what he’s built is an army of soldiers, willing to fight to the fucking end.”
My phone buzzed with a text and I smiled when I saw the photo Devil had sent.
Blood and tits all wrapped up in extreme terror. This guy didn’t need to know we’d never make good on our threat to harm his woman. He also didn’t need to know the amount of blood in the photo was exaggerated by Devil smearing a small cut worth of blood over her skin.
The end justifies the means.
I leaned forward, pushed my hand against his chest to keep him down and shoved the phone in his face. “You ready to lose that?”
His chest heaved with heavy breath after heavy breath. Finally, he broke. “Room 1242.” Regret and fury spewed out of his mouth along with his tip-off.
“What the fuck is that?”
“That’s the room he’s staying in tonight.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
Fuck, so close.
I stared at him and saw the moment he realised where this was heading. Sitting calmly atop of him, I moved my knife from his dick, ready to rid his club of another member.
He thrashed under me, trying like hell to buck me off.
It was that fight I loved the most.
That last ditch attempt to cling to life while I took his last breath.
2
Tatum
“When I Go” by Keaton Simons
Numbers.
My days drifted past in a sea of numbers.
14004.
My bank balance.
6.
The number of meals I should eat a day.
3.
The number of people in my life who looked out for me.
5.
The number of flights I took to visit my mother while she was dying last year.
4.
The number of men I’d slept with over the past twelve months.
90000.
The amount of cash it took to crash my life to the ground.
8.
The number of years I lived a lie.
My days drifted past in a sea of numbers while I numbed my pain by disconnecting from life as much as I could.
As the guy I’d been watching in the casino all night slipped me his room key and said, “Room 1242,” I knew I’d be using that key.
I might have given up on a lot, but I never gave up on revenge.
Especially when it involved the opportunity to seek vengeance against the man I thought murdered my brother.
* * *
His greedy eyes trailed a path over my body after he let me into his room. I felt nothing but disgust and had to work hard not to vomit.
You can do this.
For Chris.
I flinched when his palm roughly connected with my breast.
“You came here to fuck me, right?” He watched me, waiting for my answer, his hand squeezing my nipple through my clothes.
Swallowing down my nerves, I nodded.
Fuck, Tatum, get your shit together. It’s not like you don’t deal with these kinds of men every damn day.