Page 11

Chapter eleven

Damien

Holy fuck… I am so high on her right now. The way she moaned my name and obeyed like the good girl she is. The way her hands clung to me like I was her only source of air. Her warmth flooding my hand as her tight, fluttering walls spasmed around me. Fuck. I should be putting her in my car right now. Taking her home with me and never letting her leave. I left her so fucking ready and needy I’m internally beating the shit out of myself for not ignoring what I have to do tonight.

My balls ache and my dick is so hard it’s painful to walk. How the hell does she have this kind of hold on me? She clawed through the deep mist surrounding my soul until she pierced and dragged me through. Her essence swallowing me whole, and all the while, I'm begging for her to consume me.

Between seeing her, feeling her tonight, and seeing how caring and sweet she was earlier, I know she’s perfect. She was made for me, and I am going to do whatever it takes to keep her forever. She believes she’s broken. Torn apart by what that piece of shit did to her. The fact that she thinks so little of herself does something to me. Boils whatever blood, patience, and humility I have left in my body. The urge to torture Cooper in unimaginable ways has my body humming with need. Thoughts and desires for vengeance on her behalf swim through my mind with malice. My body’s senses already sharpening with the desire to hunt him down.

She is everything. She’s rain when the plants are dying. The fresh scent when the flowers bloom. She sees herself as a stepping stone. Made to be forever saddened and beaten down piece by piece until either earth’s disasters crumble her to dust, or until the people forget about her and demolish her. But not to me. She’s as radiant as the Mona Lisa, as strong as the Statue of Liberty, and as rare as Egyptian hieroglyphics. She could be Aphrodite reincarnated. She is a goddess. Her body is my temple to worship, and I will be her heart’s guard.

Fuck Ashia, what have you done to me…

I savor the last sample of her taste. My tongue wrapping and my lips closing around my finger as I walk up the stairs and into the VIP office. Ready to start my nightly work and get it done as quickly and painfully as possible so I can get back to my woman.

As I walk through the curved double doors, I see Tyler sitting at his desk. Obviously waiting for me. A strong, broad man who brings people pleasure in the front of the building, while bringing them pain behind the walls. Tyler is an amazing asset to the group, and to keep things as nonchalant as possible, we try to be conspicuous.

“What took you so long?” He asks as he stands. His large, bear like hands bracing his weight on the table. I tip my glass back and settle in the warm sting. Swallowing the last swig of my whiskey, still a tinge of her taste, and set the cup on his desk. With my help, Tyler created this club. It’s a perfect stomping ground for the low lives we try to rid the earth of. It’s how we catch a lot of who we need. Rapists, men trying to drug women, and sometimes small drug deals go down inside. Tyler isn’t as oblivious as these criminals think he is, and that’s when he calls us in to take over. Almost every night they’re open, at least one of my men is here to catch them. It works out. We take scum out of the world, and he gets an extreme bouncing service.

“I was saying hi to my girl.” I smirk and let my hand drop lazily from my glass. I chuckle internally at the words that escaped my mouth. Elation filling my chest as they're finally spoken out loud.

My girl.

“You got a girl? Didn’t know that.” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing before stalking to the other side of the room. Opening up the double-doored closet, he reveals the dimly lit hallway leading to the interrogation room. The warm light marinating from the wall sconces gives a false sense of security for those that walk this way unwillingly. Our feet stomp and slap against the concrete floor, giving notice to our determined pace. I pull out a wad of cash and hold it out for him to take as payment.

“A thousand for the target, and a thousand for both of the scum bags.” He takes the money and pockets it before looking over to me in confusion.

“What’d the other two do?” He asks with narrowed eyes.

“One touched my girl in a way she didn’t like. So, he needs to die.” I say, shrugging, and I notice how uncaring my tone came across. Have I become that desensitized to murder? Yep. Especially when it comes to someone touching what’s mine, but I suppose I shouldn’t put Tyler on edge with this new indifference to someone’s life. Regardless of how demented they are. “But I looked them both up. A couple of abusers. The other one fucked up his fiancé’s brain so badly, by forcefully injecting her with heroine, that she’s in a long-term care facility.” Tyler’s eyes widen slightly. Weariness etched into his features, but after a moment his taut face softens.

“Good enough.” He pulls the money back out, counts it, and hands me half of the money back. Giving me a curt nod. “They’re on the house.”

He scans his hand on the reader beside the locked double doors. Waiting for it to turn green, before unveiling all three limp dicks tied to chairs and gagged. The one I need is on the left. He’s a mule for Dust and is going to give me information on how to infiltrate their forces, and any other info I may need, whether he wants to or not. He’s scrawny and sickly looking. Sores cover his body and his teeth are decaying. He obviously tests the products he sells, and if I can’t get any information out of him by force, then his withdrawals will help the process.

The one I want? He’s in the middle. The one that looks even more disgusting up close. I could see the sheen from the sweat that covered his body from the balcony. And he had the audacity to shove his rancid face near my girl? He’s the one that grabbed up my little wolf like he was grabbing her by the scruff. Ready to feed her to the rest of his pack of vile and touch starved buddies. He’ll get the worst treatment, and I'll use him as an example for Dust bunny over there.

“Untie their mouths.” I demand. Tyler does as I say and immediately. Wasting no time, he uses a knife to cut their gags off of them. The moment each one is free, they all start trying to bark out idle threats. As if they have a chance.

“You mother fucker! You wait until I get out of this chair! I’ll pull out your organs through your asshole!” The heroine abuser says, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to laugh at his shitty insult. My hand begins to tingle with anticipation as I reach back and caress the cool, textured, steel of my handgun. Without hesitation, I pull it out and hold it up to his head. Staring straight into the pit of his eyes before I pull the trigger. A quick flash brightens the room, almost blinding the spatter from the bullet hole. The other two shut up pretty quickly once his big body slumps over and his blood spews in their faces. The grin that spreads across my features could be classified as sadistic.

“Here’s how this is going to go.” I say as I take a few side steps to now stand between the last two men. “You.” I drag the gun with a fluid motion in the direction of the Dust bunny. “I need information, and you’re going to give it to me. I don’t care how long it takes, and I don’t care how much blood you lose.” I turn to the man in the middle. The heat immediately rising in my chest as my eyes land back on his. “And you, grimy, greasy, burden.” He snarls at me showcasing his mustard teeth behind his soured face. “You touched my girl, and I made a promise on what I do when other men touch her.” Carefully moving my gun back to the back of my jeans, I pull my favorite buck knife out of my pocket and unsheathe it. Not even flinching as the reflection from the overhead lights hits against the blade, knocking it directly into my line of sight.

“Are you talking about that little whore from the bar?” He says dumbfounded, the venom that spills from his lips only furthering my anger. The rage begins to resonate in my chest, the heat from it spreading to my throat and shoulders. I storm over to him, making it in only one stride. Stepping with the force of a raging bull when I shove my knife into this mouth. The sharp edge of my blade sinks into the crease between his lips, and I yank out. Slicing the side of his mouth open on one side like the Joker would have. As he screams and jolts in his chair, I grab onto his chin and jaw, forcing him to look at me. My fingers sink into his new wound, blood spewing as he tries to scream and call out for help.

“Don’t you ever fucking talk about her like that, you got it? Your tongue will be next.” I practically growl. Shaking with fury as I stand up and release his face. “Let’s see all of your charges, shall we, James Roatenbury?” I mock his name and pull out my phone to check the list of crimes I had found earlier. “Five charges of domestic violence, three rape allegations, six felony assaults, and one attempted murder. Yet here you are, in this bar, touching what doesn’t belong to you.” I point my knife at the tip of his nose. Staring down at him as he struggles to keep himself from swallowing his own blood. “How does someone have all of those charges, and isn’t in prison?” He shakes his head violently. The motions cause him to choke and sputter up blood leaking down his throat. Sorry son of a bitch can’t even stop from choking on his own fluids. “Don’t be such a pussy, answer me.” I command.

“M-my dad paid them off. He k-knew the j-judges.” He squeaks through coughs and chokes.

“Ah, daddy’s money. You pussy men always have dads that’ll bail you out.” I walk over to the edge of the room where Tyler now stands. A table is laid out beside him, filled with necessary interrogation and torture tools. Looking over the vast selection of knives, construction tools, and hardware, I go through the most fitting scenarios in my head before grabbing the small bone saw off the table and cradling it in my hand.

“Whoa man. Okay, okay. I get it. I messed up. I messed up, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won’t go near her again.” James pleads. All the while, Tyler stares at him in disgust. Imagine what he would’ve done to my little wolf if he had the chance? Imagines of his vile, grimy hand on her arm race through my mind again. The sheer audacity and entitlement that this man has is astonishing. To think that he can grab and degrade any woman he chooses is atrocious. He picked the wrong fucking woman.

“Daddy’s money can't save you this time.” I say through gritted teeth as I slowly turn back around to face him. As I close the distance between us again, he rears back as far into the chair as much as possible. It’s as if he sees the reaper closing in on him, and pure terror takes over his expression. I quickly lift my hand, and shove down, piercing my knife through his right hand, and pinning it to the chair completely. His gurgled screams ring through the room, but little does he know how useless that is. This room was made for this very thing, and his screams only add fuel to the fire coursing through my veins. Mercy is not a term I recognize in my vocabulary. “You know, my father would never stand for such atrocities. I'm amazed at how you could commit such heinous crimes, and your weak and submissive father would just cover it up. In our world, my father and I eat men like you for an afternoon snack.”

I put my hand on top of the knife and pat it down like I was showing a friend a collector’s item. The knife shakes as I tap the handle, the movement causing the reflexes in his hand to activate and twitch his arm. Which must be very uncomfortable for him. Perhaps I should do something about that?

“This is the hand that jerked her up like she was trash on the ground, right?” I question him with hate laced words, already knowing the answer as it replays through my imagination. Cutting on the bone saw, I allow the screeching and shredding metal to sing through the room before quickly pressing it to his wrist. He thrashes and screams as his blood begins to pour onto the floor, and spews on himself, Dust bunny, and me. I would compare the scene to a fountain outside of a garden. That is until the saw touches his bones and the screeching turns into a muffled, gritty roar. Thankfully, and unlike the Dust bunny, I’m smart enough to remain silent and keep my mouth shut to keep the blood from spewing in it.

Once it’s completely detached, I pull my knife out. Allowing the hand to fall to the floor. It bounces off of James’ knee before it topples to the ground. Sounding like a squelching knock as the appendage hits the concrete. I look over to James and see that he’s passed out from the pain, with a darkened, wet spot now covering his crotch.

“Pussy.” I say out loud as drop the now bloodied machine and turn to the Dust bunny. My pride swelling as I see the horrified look on his face. Counting each drop of blood that runs down and over the dips and creases of his appearance. I press my knife into his throat, a maniacal grin growing on my mouth, and watch as the little bead of red comes to the surface and blends in with James’ blood. “It’s almost your turn.”

“I'll tell you whatever you want! What do you want to know!?” The tears forming in his eyes, and the shakiness I feel under my knife brings a warmth to my chest. He's trembling so badly that I can feel the chatter of his teeth. I know at this point, he’ll tell me everything, and I wouldn’t even have to ask twice. Would he dare try to lie to me? Who knows. If he was smart, no, but something in his eyes tells me he’s not quite desperate enough not to try it, and I immediately started thinking of other strategies to ensure the best information relay possible.

That is, until I hear my phone begin to ring, and then the heat plummets. I know this man’s anticipation might just get me what I need if I wait to torture him, but fuck I hate it when I'm interrupted. Nudging my head in his direction, and allowing Tyler to take over, I walk over to the table, wipe my hands, and answer Carter’s phone call.

“Yeah?” I say blankly, trying not to sound as annoyed as I am.

“We have a problem. The drone outside of Ashia’s apartment caught movement from a large male inside…” I don’t even let him finish before I hang up and sprint out of the doors. My steps are heavy and quick. Forceful beats against the floor as I soar down the hall, seemingly making it to the end in only a few strides. My arms throw those doors open, nearly knocking them off of the hinges as I make my way back to the VIP balcony.

My heart is pounding in my chest so harshly that it might jump up my throat. I need to stop her before she leaves. She can’t go back. She would be walking right into his trap. If he got the chance to touch her again, I’m not sure she’d survive it again. She’s worked for years now to just be able to hold herself up, what kind of state would she be in if he got to her again? How could I have gotten so wrapped up in what I was doing to not track his movements once his plane landed? I’m so God damn mad at myself, I might just have to teach myself a lesson once I know she’s safe.

As I reach the balcony, I grip the rail so tightly that my hands tremble and knuckles turn white under the pressure. My eyes darting out, scanning the room so quickly I can barely make out any shapes, but I know one thing for sure. I’d notice my little wolf in a heartbeat, and she’s not here anymore.

“FUCK!” I sprint to the end of the balcony where the back staircase is located and pull my phone back out. As I climb down them, taking two at a time, I dial her number, and it goes straight to voicemail. The immediate worry that sinks into my soul causes my spine to shiver. On the off chance she put her phone on ‘do not disturb’, I try to track her phone, and there is no location available. This means that either she was so disgusted with my behavior that she turned off her phone, or that it ran out of battery and died. I’m practically begging for the latter.

Shoving through the back emergency exit door, I continue my relenting pace all the way to my motorcycle. The moment I straddle the seat, I turn it on and skirt off into the street. Heading in her apartment’s direction.