Page 12 of Jazz
“Put me down,” she shouted, thumping the heels of her hands against my spine, her legs kicking, knocking me off balance.
“Fucking calm down.”
“Calm down? You fucking kidnapped me, ya prick!”
“And you think this is gonna help you?” I grunted under the assault of her arms and legs, staggering down the corridor like I’d drunk a skinful.
“Don’t fucking care, you fucking arse.”
Her arms hammered, her legs kicking wildly against my stomach, dangerously close to my dick. One wrong move, one dig of her toe and she’d have me on my knees. I pushed her further over my shoulder, her head dangling lower over my back, her hands now battering off my arse as I walked.
The door to the warehouse loomed. A few more steps and we’d be under the eyes of the rest of the club and the Hand. The tiger over my shoulder still fought wildly. Like she was caught in a trap, feral and angry. I paused a moment.
“You’re gonna want to calm down before we step through into the warehouse,” I warned.
“And why the fuck would I want to do that?”
“’Cos you want to look composed and calm, not fucking crazy.”
“I like crazy.”
“Sure you do. But you need to think. Keep your wits about you and don’t do anything stupid.”
“Why the fuck does that matter to you?”
Why did it matter to me? What did I care what happened next? I didn’t.
“Fine. You do you,” I relented, turning sideways and nudging the door open with my shoulder, not taking the chance to loosen my grip from her, even for a second.
The voices of the men talking in lowered conversation quieted to a low hush. All heads turned to where I carried the swearing, kicking and fucking nipping wildling over my shoulder, suppressing a growl of pain as she squeezed the flesh of my arse between her fingernails. Fucking bitch.
I dropped her to the floor under the winch, hearing the gasp and whoosh of air as she hit the ground hard on already sore shoulders. That felt good, revenge. But I was too busy enjoying the moment to notice the unbound leg kicking out, catching me hard in the shin. The groan escaped before I’d even checked it, a thick, dull, bruising pain radiating through the front of my leg. And I was glad I had my back to the crowd, hearing only the chuckles, my brothers unable to see the pain on my face. Fuck, that smarted.
Grabbing her bicep, I yanked her off the floor, stepping around behind her, letting the backwards kicks do their thing, some landing, some glancing, the only pain I could feel was the heavy boot to my shin. That was gonna fucking bruise. She squirmed as I pulled her arms over her head, thrashing left and right, her long dark plait whipping and slapping me.
Eventually, I hooked her wrists over the hook, letting her weight hang on those tired shoulders. I didn’t need to step backin front of her to know the pain that I’d just sent coursing through her body. Her fingers stretched out, as if clawing at thin air, her chest heaving a lungful of air.
“Fucking cunt!” she shouted as she let out that breath. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Don’t think so,” I answered, turning away from her and striding to the side of the warehouse and pressing the red button in the wall.
The winch whirred, coming to life, slowly lifting until I stopped it, raising her just enough that her legs were entirely off the floor. And now she really hung all her weight from her arms and her shoulders, and the pain in my shin transformed into something else. She hissed. Audibly this time, and the group of men in leather watching her, watching us, laughed, loud and heartily.
“She’s a fucking firecracker,” the bald man with the long, grey beard commented as I joined my brothers watching the woman swinging from the ceiling. “Fury’s sister?”
“Aye, sure is,” Dougal answered.
“Nice. Couldn’t have picked a better one if ya tried. You told the Kings yet?”
Dougal shook his head. “Nah. Letting them sweat. They’ll be going mad looking for her. Want to let them stew first.”
The President of the Bloody Hand nodded, agreeing. “I like her; she’s wild. Might take her home with us. Put her to work. That would fucking destroy Fury.”
The man stroked his beard as he spoke, his eyes lighting up at his own suggestion.
“Wouldn’t want to try to get that one to comply in one of your brothels; she’ll rip someone’s dick off. She busted Skinny’s knee last night.”
“Bit of smack and it calms even the craziest bitch down. You might want to give this one some?”