Page 46 of Not Your Romeo
“Gr–” Was all I got out, before he crammed it into Zander’s mouth.
I knew from the panic written on Zander’s features, Griz had been correct in his guess of what it was. His eyes bugged and he was more content on spitting than fighting, only really biting at Griz a time or two in the process of it all. Cane grabbed Zander’s hair and jerked his head back. Griz shoved glove and all into Zander’s mouth, peeling it down his wrist and clamping his hand there for a short, few seconds. I didn’t see his other lead heavy hand coming down, but I heard it battering off Zander’s face as he sent teeth and bone in opposite directions.
Even Cane seemed stunned, when Griz calmly got up, peeled the other glove off and shoved it in his pocket.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he rasped, strolling toward the door.
“Dude,” Cane, turned back toward the still-seizing body. “Your glove is in his goddamn throat, evidence–”
Griz opened the door and gave him a long, hard look. “I don’t think you've ever seen anybody do this before, but it’s about to get ugly. Stomach acid will take care of evidence, I ain’t worried about that. Get in the fuckin’ jeep, brother.”
“What, uh–? What happened to talkin’—?” I teased, as we made our way toward the vehicle.
Griz sniffed. “Fuckin’ cocksuckers are like snakes. You could handle Saint, but what of it? Tomorrow it’ll be Timmy or Bobby or whoever takin’ his fuckin spot. If you want to kill a snake, you don’t cut the part off that rattles and makes noise–you take it’s fuckin head. You know that shit just the same as me.”
I nodded, and shot him a wink, he’d hear no argument from me.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Family Name
Roisin
I took a nice long bubble bath, then I decided to go all out. I hunted for the best plates and dishes in his cabinets, and then picked my brain. I wasn’t sure when he’d be back. If he got arrested it may not be until later than last time, so I decided to be practical. I threw some potatoes in a bit of foil and tossed them in the oven. We had some thin-sliced steak in the refrigerator, so I sliced and diced and added some peppers and onions. I had a nice scent going through the house in no time.
It was weird, for the first time since I signed the paper, I actually felt wifely.
I set the skillet back and covered the steak mixture, before digging in the refrigerator again for some salad ingredients. When I closed the door, there was a man standing behind it. He was shorter than Ziggy, and not unfamiliar to me. The lion etched on his throat told anyone in my brother’s world exactly who he was. My brain and body knew who he was before I could even comprehend what I was looking at. A scream was plucked straight out of my lungs and my heart stumbled over itself.
Seeing Keefe after conflict or fuck-up was bad enough. My deceased brother had been heavy-handed and merciless, but at least he had a sliver of soul. Rory Morgan had never had that.
I swallowed, and bizarre as it was, a thought occurred to me.
They were all three the same dark creature internally. I didn’t know a thing about Cane, but I understood that much with certainty, when I was face-to-face with Rory Morgan. That animalistic nature I’d noticed peeking out of him at the university was the same thing staring at me now.
And I knew what that was and exactly what it meant to have a man like that stare at you the way Rory was lookin’ at me now.
It was death, no matter what world you stood in.
Rory wouldn’t just kill me; he’d be creative with it. The man was forever trying to impress Sean with his craft.
“Sean should have never allowed you to exist after Keefe was gone. You embarrassed him, and now you embarrass us,” Rory quietly began. “It’s bad enough Sean permitted you to parade around the estate while you married a biker, but now you’re out at the university dragging my family’s name through it?”
He tutted, and shook his head, reaching out to touch my hair. I swatted at his hand and his eyes lit up like I’d challenged him to a duel.
“I won’t let you lead my family’s legacy to the dirt, girl. You should have known that.”
“I didn’t do any of that. I quit. That guy just came after me f-for money–” I stammered, but Rory held up a finger, planting it against my lips.
“I don’t want excuses. I’m not here to listen to all of that.”
“What the fuck are you here for?” I blurted out, my survival instincts momentarily having some kind of misfiring.
“Me?” Rory smiled, stepping closer, “I’m gonna help you be a good, little housewife, and learn to stay in your lane.”
His first blow landed solid against my ribs. I didn’t see it coming, and I didn’t have time to recover before he landed the next. He pummeled me until I lost consciousness.
Most men would have stopped there, but that creative streak must have kicked in. I awoke to a bomb being set off on the last knuckle of my middle finger. That’s what it felt like anyhow. I was instantly blinded by tears as my throat ripped raw with a scream. A loud clang sounded beside me on the floor after I shot to my knees. I burrowed over to protect myself and eventually came to comprehend after wildly surveying the vicinity; that it was a hammer responsible for the sound. There was a scuff on the tile beside it, but I was more worried about clutching my pain riddled hand to my chest.
