Gross.
I release the tool from his mouth just as the sound of Nicky’s phone blares from his back pocket. I give him a nod that I got this as he steps away to answer with his shoulders dropping in disappointment. Like I said, that stone-cold expression doesn’t fool me. He loves the sounds of screams when the flesh parts under his scalpel blade. With my back towards him and my focus on the fucker in front of me, I block out every other noise and pocket the pliers for now.
“Talk. Was this an attack on Franco or Dom?” I spin my knife between my fingers, already getting bored as he gasps for breath and tries to wipe the drool off his chin onto his shirt.
“You’ll let me go if I talk, man? I’ll flee the state and you won’t ever see me again. I'm as good as dead if Hector catches me…” His voice trails off as I give him a blank look, not giving a shit that his boss is going to kill him.
“Yeah, pal, I’ll let you go,” I lie through my teeth, playing along, and hold up my finger in a pinky promise but drop it quickly when I remember his hands are tied behind his back.
I’m really not good at lying.How embarrassing, I think to myself with a low whistle through my teeth.
“Hector wants the girl.” I watch his lips move, form words, but my whole body goes still and it’s like the only thing I can see is blood before it even spills.
If he’s talking about our Tillie, I’ll kill every fucker who thinks they can take her away from me. The thought alone makes me see red. Red as I slit their throats, color my painting in gang members’ blood, and more red as I display my artwork in Tillie’s bedroom right over where she sleeps. She’ll have only peaceful dreams at night knowing I’m cleaning the streets up so that she’s protected.
I think I like this plan.
“What girl?” I ask very slowly, deadly, as I stop my knife mid spin.
“The slut who was dancing all over Dom. Demon Jokers want their property back. Cunt thought she could run away but when your daddy is the president of a fucking motorcycle club, word spreads fast. A pretty penny for her return. I heard the prez is already in Los Angeles.” He shrugs his shoulders and looks up at me with hopeful eyes.
“His daughter?” I whisper the words and my expression must be scary as shit because he shrinks back in his seat and glances nervously around.
“You gonna let me go now? That’s all I know. I swear.” He nods his head in fast movements and wiggles in his seat before clearing his throat.
“I believe you. You’ve been most helpful,” I say as I grab his head in a headlock and tip him back so he’s looking up at me.
I eat up the fear in his eyes, especially as I raise my knife and hold it over his forehead, right above his ridiculous tattoo.
“The fuck, man! You said you would let me go!” he grunts out, his face turning a bright red as he struggles in my grip but it’s useless.
“I lied. Now hold still. I’m just going to cut off your tattoo and have it delivered to Hector as a gift. Oh, and my lady is going to love having your tongue on her shelf. Souvenirs, am I right, man? The best gifts for someone special.” I feel my body relax as the blade skims along the corner of his skull tattoo and blood begins to trail down his face.
I get in the zone, ignoring his ear-shattering screams, and slide my blade through his skin, the cut smooth like butter. The moment the missing piece of flesh off his forehead falls to the ground, I step back to admire my work. He does look better this way. If he was going to live after I’m done with him, I’d bet all the ladies would be falling all over him. My artist work is known around these parts. He would be fucking popular on display, even being dead and all.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the glint of metal and hear the resounding boom before I feel the gang member’s blood coating my face from the bullet wound between his eyes. I blink a couple of times and slowly face Nicky with my mouth hanging open like a gaping fish. Why does Nicky have to ruin my fun? I wasn’t nearly done and I was just starting to have fun.
“What the hell?” I cross my arms, tapping my knife against my bicep as I glare at Nicky.
“We need to go now. Tillie called on Logan’s phone sounding frantic and saying what sounded like a goodbye. We need to get to his house. Now.” His muscles are tight, ripping under his suit jacket and he turns without looking back at me, striding fast to the door in an almost robotic way.
I don’t ask any more questions, not even glancing back at our guest with regret. I’ll come back for the tongue later. My angel is in trouble. I just know it by how stiff Nicky is. By the time I’m busting out the door, his headlights are shining brightly at me as the engine purrs to life. He even reaches across the console to open my door before I can reach the car. Fuck. I hop in like my life depends on it and slam the door as he shifts gears, peeling out of the warehouse parking lot. The tires squeal from the burning rubber at the neck-breaking speed he takes off at.
I smell death on the horizon, bodies are going to drop tonight if someone harms one single hair on her head. Why did she call from Logan’s phone? Did something happen to my brother from another mother? I urge Nicky to drive faster, picturing all the worst possible ways they could be in danger and my chest tightens at the thought of finding them dead. I’ll protect my family at all cost, even if I’m up until dawn burying bodies to hide the evidence. The guys haven’t admitted to having feelings for our girl, but I think it was love at first sight for me… pretty sure those dark eyes sucked my soul out and I just had to have her no matter what. I don’t care what lengths I have to go to keep her by my side even if it requires her being handcuffed to my side for a very, long fucking time.
Our worlds collided like a car crash with shattered glass, our bodies airborne until we reached each other with open arms to embrace, the perfect fit, and now she’s ours. I don’t care who the fuck her dad is, he could be Jesus himself and I’d still corrupt her soul until she comes to terms that I’m never letting her go.
* * *
I ask myself how the hell I get into these messes, like how I’m scaling the side of Logan’s house like a freaking ninja under the cloak of darkness and not falling to my death? Gripping the stone wall on the side of his home that leads to Tillie’s balcony, tiny grains of stone bite into the palms of my hands but I grind my teeth as every muscle strains and I take the final leap over the ledge, out of breath like a chain-smoker.
“Fuckkkk. I need to lay off the junk food.” I pat my abs while laying on the stone slab of her balcony, amazed at how defined my stomach still is after I’ve been stuffing my face with Twinkies along with flaming hot Cheetos.
Smoking weed makes you eat the craziest shit. I swear, I was craving pickles and ice cream like a pregnant woman just the other night. It’s easier to lay off the drugs when Tillie is around but the moment she’s out of my sight, it’s like the itch under my skin burns until I’m digging my nails down my arms. I need to get the edge off and weed seems to make my mind go quiet, at least for a little while. Out of all the drugs, Tillie is the best. She’s a dose that goes straight to my system and leaves me feeling like I’m floating.
Bouncing to my feet after catching my breath, I duck beneath her windows and sneak along the side of the house with my calf muscles burning from the climb. I look into her room through the windows only to see the bedroom coated in darkness. The French door’s handles twist with ease under my hand, only a small squeak grinds on the hinges of the door as I slip through the open gap. I can hear my own breathing, loud to my own ears as I pad on silent feet across her carpet. The sound intensifies when I notice a dark spot on the floor at my feet that trails towards her closest.
I’d recognize that copper smell anywhere. Blood.
