Page 37 of Property of Brute & Axl
“You shouldn’t be here, princess.” Reaching for her, she steps away, and this is the moment I think we’ve lost her forever. There’s no coming back from her observing us as we truly are, in our element.
“You keep things from me.” Her hands cradle her belly as she steps forward, next to a silent Brute. “I realize it’s to protect me.” Viking moves so he’s between her and an unsecured Chuck. “I remembered everything. I woke up, and it was all there like it’d never disappeared.”
“Fuck,” Brute grunts, taking her hand to shift her attention. “What the fuck are you doing in here, then?”
Her soft smile is foreign in a place like this. “I thought I would be a shell. That I would break down and hide from everything and everyone.” She looks to me before returning to Brute. “But I’m safe here. Safer when I’m near the two of you.” She breathes out a deep breath and shocks us all when she says to the other man, but not Chuck, “And I know that some men deserve to die.”
His head lifts and his eyes widen as they land on Finleigh.
“He’s the one, isn’t he.” I don’t pose it as a question, not given his resounding swallow and body shaking in the chair.
“He came off that boat and made a beeline right for me. There was a sick sense of glee in his eyes when he dragged me out the window and started tearing my clothes off.” Her voice is mechanical as she gives us details. “He taunted me to cry louder. To beg for mercy. He laughed when I screamed out as he forced his small dick inside my body.”
He scoffs, and Finleigh’s hand whips out to slap him across the face. The sound echoes, surprising everyone. “My name is Finleigh Collins. I’m 24 years old, about to become a mom, and you”—she grips his jaw until her nails dig far enough in to draw blood—“nearly stole my life.” He shakes his head in denial, and she finishes with, “You deserve to die.”
Releasing him, she wipes her bloody fingers off on her loose shirt—my shirt—and turns her back on him, spine straight, head held high, and meets Brute’s empty stare before mine. “Candy is taking me to her shop. Can Viking come with us?”
I don’t know how the fuck it happened, but these two have formed an oddly close friendship since that first sight of him made her pass out in fear.
“All yours,” I reply.
Viking is already typing on his phone, likely getting Easy and Miami to come down here.
“Thank you.” Before she can walk out, Brute drags her into his chest and whispers in her ear. Her head nods, and she holds him tightly. When he releases her, she comes to me.
I don’t hesitate to pick her up. Her arms and legs wrap around me without hesitation. “Tell me you love us,” I demand, my voice gruff. I couldn’t handle it if she no longer wanted to be ours.
“Axl,” she sighs my name. “Luka Barnes, of course, I love you.” She melts into my kiss, sweeping her tongue into my mouth and rubbing her pussy against my abs before her head is pulled back, and Brute silently asks for the same response. “Brute. Jack Williams, I love you every bit as much.” There’s a snort from behind us, followed by a grunt and a moan.
Finleigh’s lips quirk up in amusement before she offers her mouth to Brute, and they kiss until they have no breath left. “Go, eat the candy I know you’re dying to, and tonight, you become our Ol’ Lady.”
“Yes, please.” There is so much pleasure in those two words that when I set her down and Viking escorts her out, I nearly follow, but we have business to finish.
“So.” I crack my knuckles, stepping up to the man we left bound. “You got it all started, did you?” He gulps and looks to Chuck for help but finds none. Brute has the ex-trooper pinned to the wall by the throat. “What’s your name?” It’s difficult keeping my voice friendly in order to throw him off, when what I want to do is rip his head from his neck and piss down his throat.
“Chuck?” this guy hisses. “You said we’d never be found out.”
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. We always knew Chuck was the ringleader.
“Yet here you are. Your friends are dead, one more is in the wind, and that pissant over there can’t help you now.” Dropping a heavy hand on his shoulder, I squeeze until he winces. “But I can. Tell me your name, the name of the other guy involved, and you’ll be free.” The lie flows easily off my tongue.
He looks down at his mangled friends, chin quavering in fear, and he says resolutely, “No, I won’t.” Glad he accepts his fate.
I respond, “Not in the sense you’d like, no, but your soul can leave this earth knowing you did the right thing by giving me the name of the last man who hurt our very pregnant, soon-to-be wife.”
“We didn’t know she was yours.” Tears drop from his eyes and slide down his cheeks, reminding me of when Fin was in the hospital, and we had to drag her from the shower because she was so fucking terrified.
“Nobody did. She was our perfect little secret, you see. The fact that she was a target because this asshole”—I flick my head at Chuck, who is looking a little blue in the face—“decided to exploit a young college girl, who just so happened to have someone with power who loved her, and then retaliate against the man he thinks was engaged to our girl—he wasn’t, by the way—is of no consequence to me.” Shaking him by the shoulder, I keep his attention. “The why, it really isn’t important. Never has been. I’ve been killing men weaker than you and more powerful than me, my entire adult life. Watching the light die in a person’s eyes makes my dick rock fucking hard, and the only difference between now and a year ago is that I have a warm, willing pussy to sink it into each night.” Just thinking of my princess has me like stone.
“I didn’t know.” He cries now, openly sobbing, with snot running down his nose and spit drooling from his mouth.
“Names.” Repeating the word is getting old and boosting my annoyance.
“That’s the best part,” Chuck wheezes out, staring at our other captive, “he’s Connor Abrams.” The son of the mayor’s aide. “Her own father's friend.”
Brute’s arm pushes until there’s a crunch. Watching as Chuck fights the crushed trachea and the fact that he’s basically dead only amuses me more.
“Did you know that, Connor?” The boy's eyes widen in fear, giving me my answer. “You hurt the daughter of your father's friend. Were you one of the ones who shot her?” He swallows nervously, and the scent of piss enters my nostrils. “Another yes.” His eyes grow wild, like a rabbit in a wolf's mouth, knowing it’s about to be eaten and helpless to do anything. “I’d like that other name now, Connor.”