Page 4
Story: Brutal Knight
"Tatiana,” his dark, smooth voice rumbled, making my insides quake. He reached a hand forward, brushing the back of it across my cheek. The touch made my chest fill and expand, infusing a calm through me. I leaned into it, letting his warmth wash over me for a brief moment before lifting my head to meet his gaze. “It’s time.”
“Are you sure?”
His eyes darkened, once again in disapproval, and I rushed to fix my mistake. I was fucking up all over again.
"I'm sorry, sir. Of course you are.”
"No need to apologize.” He held out the black envelope with the silver embossing of his trademark emblem, and I took it without looking at it. He didn’t look away. “You received my text?”
“Yes.”
“One more, Tatiana, then it’s over.”
“I know.” I nodded and, satisfied, he leaned over to kiss me tenderly on the lips. I basked in his affection until he let me go. "See you Friday.”
I watched as he turned, sliding back into the back seat of the Phantom, then waited respectfully as his driver drove off, silently moving down the street, as quiet as a shark in the deep ocean.
I stared after it for a long time, even after it had disappeared, my fingers trembling as they clasped the paper of the thick, linen envelope.
Then, taking a deep breath, I turned back towards the building, knowing everything had changed.
It was time to kill Knight Cadwell.
ONE
Guns n Rosesblared through the speakers and I shifted on the black leather chair, which got me a dark look from Romero, his tattoo machine stilling.
“Problem?” I raised an eyebrow.
“No.” He grinned before glancing down at the lit joint in my fingers. “Just that I have to look at your shitty face.”
“That’s not what your mom said last night.” I shot him a knowing smirk, passing it over.
“Mmm,” he raised his eyebrows, then sat back, inhaling. He held the smoke in his lungs before passing it back. “Hope she gave you crabs.”
I chuckled and, leaning in, he fell back to deep concentration, subconsciously toying with his thick, metal lip ring while he worked his machine.
The pain shooting through my shoulder was like ants munching on my skin so I tried to focus on something else - the red, Victorian wallpaper plastered on the walls; the skull-faced Santa Maria statue in the corner with lit candles, and a picture of Romero’s grandmother, long since passed. The display of intricate drawings lining the wall—obligatory pictures like a heart, prickled and bleeding by thorns, a skull with a rose crown.
Motherfucking Bourbon King, the new Vegas mafia Don and my boss.
I’d never had a tattoo before, never planned on having one. But now, we were all lined up like ducklings while he lorded over us like a silent, broody king.
I loved the asshole but his moody glaring was getting on my nerves. “Stop staring.”
He grunted, looking away, but his brother and my best friend, Coulter, turned in his seat, giving me one of his infamous smirks.
“But it’s so fun.” Coulter’s smile was Las Vegas famous for making girl’s panties melt, but ever since he’d gotten married, he grinned with the confidence of a man who had the biggest dick in the room. “Seeing you in pain is as fun as watching my bank account go up.”
“It’s also fun to punch you in the face, but you see me holding back.”
He lifted a shoulder, shrugging, still with that fucking grin, and looked away. I pulled on my joint and let it settle deep in my bones, calming me.
Someone had been fucking with my business lately. Starting with a suspicious rise in online complaints, then workers were quitting—citing better offers from other employers. There was an increase in random attacks on my secure servers, more than the usual, then, finally, accounts were starting to come up short. Accounts that affected the Kings, which was a problem. I’d also heard that someone wanted to kill me, something I’d only confessed to Coulter.
I was handling it but it was a pain in my ass, and clearly not a coincidence. I had a sense that bigger things were coming, and the weed helped with the stress.
Also, months ago, I’d been taken captive while trying to protect Bourbon’s now wife, Rose. During that time, I was severely tortured. When the Kings rescued me, they’d had to amputate two half fingers and one toe. I still felt the phantom pains from that experience.
“Are you sure?”
His eyes darkened, once again in disapproval, and I rushed to fix my mistake. I was fucking up all over again.
"I'm sorry, sir. Of course you are.”
"No need to apologize.” He held out the black envelope with the silver embossing of his trademark emblem, and I took it without looking at it. He didn’t look away. “You received my text?”
“Yes.”
“One more, Tatiana, then it’s over.”
“I know.” I nodded and, satisfied, he leaned over to kiss me tenderly on the lips. I basked in his affection until he let me go. "See you Friday.”
I watched as he turned, sliding back into the back seat of the Phantom, then waited respectfully as his driver drove off, silently moving down the street, as quiet as a shark in the deep ocean.
I stared after it for a long time, even after it had disappeared, my fingers trembling as they clasped the paper of the thick, linen envelope.
Then, taking a deep breath, I turned back towards the building, knowing everything had changed.
It was time to kill Knight Cadwell.
ONE
Guns n Rosesblared through the speakers and I shifted on the black leather chair, which got me a dark look from Romero, his tattoo machine stilling.
“Problem?” I raised an eyebrow.
“No.” He grinned before glancing down at the lit joint in my fingers. “Just that I have to look at your shitty face.”
“That’s not what your mom said last night.” I shot him a knowing smirk, passing it over.
“Mmm,” he raised his eyebrows, then sat back, inhaling. He held the smoke in his lungs before passing it back. “Hope she gave you crabs.”
I chuckled and, leaning in, he fell back to deep concentration, subconsciously toying with his thick, metal lip ring while he worked his machine.
The pain shooting through my shoulder was like ants munching on my skin so I tried to focus on something else - the red, Victorian wallpaper plastered on the walls; the skull-faced Santa Maria statue in the corner with lit candles, and a picture of Romero’s grandmother, long since passed. The display of intricate drawings lining the wall—obligatory pictures like a heart, prickled and bleeding by thorns, a skull with a rose crown.
Motherfucking Bourbon King, the new Vegas mafia Don and my boss.
I’d never had a tattoo before, never planned on having one. But now, we were all lined up like ducklings while he lorded over us like a silent, broody king.
I loved the asshole but his moody glaring was getting on my nerves. “Stop staring.”
He grunted, looking away, but his brother and my best friend, Coulter, turned in his seat, giving me one of his infamous smirks.
“But it’s so fun.” Coulter’s smile was Las Vegas famous for making girl’s panties melt, but ever since he’d gotten married, he grinned with the confidence of a man who had the biggest dick in the room. “Seeing you in pain is as fun as watching my bank account go up.”
“It’s also fun to punch you in the face, but you see me holding back.”
He lifted a shoulder, shrugging, still with that fucking grin, and looked away. I pulled on my joint and let it settle deep in my bones, calming me.
Someone had been fucking with my business lately. Starting with a suspicious rise in online complaints, then workers were quitting—citing better offers from other employers. There was an increase in random attacks on my secure servers, more than the usual, then, finally, accounts were starting to come up short. Accounts that affected the Kings, which was a problem. I’d also heard that someone wanted to kill me, something I’d only confessed to Coulter.
I was handling it but it was a pain in my ass, and clearly not a coincidence. I had a sense that bigger things were coming, and the weed helped with the stress.
Also, months ago, I’d been taken captive while trying to protect Bourbon’s now wife, Rose. During that time, I was severely tortured. When the Kings rescued me, they’d had to amputate two half fingers and one toe. I still felt the phantom pains from that experience.
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