Page 56 of Axel (Belles & Bratva Beasts #2)
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
WILDER
One cap to the ankle.
The fucker falls.
One cap in his thigh.
Okay, that was just target practice.
When Axel King calls, I answer.
I’m supposed to leave this fucker alive and protect Axel’s woman, but who says I can’t entertain myself until he gets here?
“Hey, little Bo Peep.” I kick the gun out of the bleeder’s hand, and get in his face … and smile. “ Baa. Can I fuck you like a sheep?”
Aw, shit.
Really?
I hate that smell.
“Goddammit.” I kick his ribs with my boot. “You just pissed yourself and I ain’t cleaning that shit up.”
Carefully, I help the hot redhead stand.
“Here, darlin. Ain’t no weatherman calling for golden showers tonight. You don’t wanna be kneeling in that.”
I’m damn sure I’m not supposed to be staring at her gorgeous goddamn tit with that pretty, pointing, pert, nipple.
Like a Georgia peach, I bet she tastes sweet.
But I’d like to keep my filthy vision, so I lift the strap of her dress and pat it in place.
“There, there. It’ll be okay.”
This is how you comfort a woman, right?
Fuck if I know.
I usually bring the terror. Like the DoorDash of Death.
But I owe Axel and Jace.
Ahh fuck, that’s right. And I owe Pastor Sire, too. He snuck a shank into a Bible for me the last time I was in the cage.
“Who are you?” The redhead jerks away from my warm, caring touch.
Can’t blame her.
Stranger Danger and all.
“Wilder.” I tip my non-existent cowboy hat. “A friend of Axel’s.”
Her glance darts to the bleeder, balling in pain on the floor.
“Aw, don’t worry about him.” I swipe his gun off the floor and tuck it into my back pocket. “Fucker won’t live to see dawn.”
I mock, laughing down at him. “Gunshots hurt. Don’t they, piddle pants? You watch John Wick too much. You thought they’re like bee stings but FUCK NO. They’re like bombs to your bones. You probably wanna shit yourself in pain, too. But do it, and I’ll shoot your ass again.”
“What? What are you doing here?”
This redhead is full of questions.
I’m not in the habit of answering them, but…
Shits and giggles.
“I live in the neighborhood. Got a ranch, slaughterhouse, and brewery down the road. I was balls deep in my second pussy of the night when your man called and needed me to make a house call.” I glance around. “Scratch that. A skanky hotel call, and here I am.”
“Where’s Axel?”
“By my guess?” I scratch my scruffy chin. “An hour or so out. He told me to come here, secure his woman and keep any fuckers alive so he can kill them.”
“No,” she raises a brow, “I’m going to kill him.”
“Well, damn, kitty, kitty.” I wink. “I see why my man’s in love.”
She steps away.
Probably from me.
I’m out of deodorant.
But definitely from that spreading puddle of piss on the floor. No. Wait. That moldy shit is carpet.
“How do you know Axel?”
I tsk. “Not sure I’m supposed to say. And damn sure I ain’t gonna answer.”
I’m bored.
“How do you know him?”
“Damn sure you can figure it out.” She lifts her chin.
And…
Ahh, fuck, her pretty plump bottom lip is busted.
“Hey, piss ant.” I kick the man’s loafer. “Did you hit her?”
“What? Who… Who gives a shit?” He groans, “You fucking shot me.”
“Come on now. Give me some credit. I shot you twice and that ain’t gonna be shit compared to what her man’s gonna do to you for hitting his woman. You wanna run, Forrest, run?”
I glance down at his exploded ankle. “Aw, shucks. You can’t. Hollow point bullet to the ankle. Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Fuck you,” he whines. “I’ll pay you more. Whatever he’s paying, I’ll double. ”
“I may be a psycho country boy, but I ain’t dumb. Your money ain’t got nothing on what my friend will do.” I lean down and whisper to him, “Rumor is, he’s Russian and sick as fuck. He’ll go all Bolshevik on your ass. Ever heard of the Red Terror?”
I hear it.
The shocked gasp from Axel’s woman.
So I rise and turn her way, shushing her with my finger. “Just a little rumor I heard about him, darlin’. Don’t worry. Axel’s more myth than man.”
Seriously, though.
I’ve been meaning to tell him about that Russian oligarch’s superyacht in Savannah.
But I’ve been overwhelmed by pussy, beer, and bullets.