Page 3 of Unbound By You (The Viper’s MC #1)
HARLOW
H is deep voice skates down my spine like a lover’s caress. I thought I heard footsteps coming down the hall, but I was a little preoccupied with the asshole and the whore before me.
The bitch in the corner whimpers, trying to catch his attention, probably hoping for a helping hand. That won’t be happening. She’s lucky she’s still breathing. As much as I might want to end her, she’s only an accessory to the crime, not the accused.
Is he still the accused if there’s no need for a jury to tell me he’s guilty? I had a front-row seat to the evidence.
I shake the unnecessary thoughts from my head and glance back at Evan, in all his hairy, naked glory, sprawled across the bed. A matching black eye and split lip now decorate his face, and Silas’s earlier words, “ Don’t worry about Evan ,” make much more sense.
I never understood what my best friend saw in this prick.
He’s a pretentious asshole with a penchant for cheating.
And I can’t forget the anger issues that surfaced—or so she said—tonight when he tried to project his indiscretions onto Lex.
It was probably some twisted, narcissistic ploy to throw her off his scent.
I’d found the house easy enough. It’s listed on the Historical Society's website for anyone to visit. Taking a couple of minutes after I snuck through a side gate, I cased the house, scanning for signs of anyone else being home. When I realized there was no good way to tell without cars in the driveway, I took it to Google and did a quick search of his dad’s name.
That confirmed he was alone. How perfect that the parents he was still freeloading off just happened to be out of town for some political fundraiser this weekend.
While I hadn’t found Evan alone, his company had been easy enough to subdue, and she’d conveniently already tied up my target.
So, the guy who likes to dominate women with his fists enjoys being dominated in bed? The irony.
“Evan, Evan, Evan... What are we going to do with you?” I taunt, slowly circling the bed, dragging my knife across the duvet with an unhurried finesse.
“You crazy fucking bitch! Do you know who I am? I’ll fucking end you! Let me go!” he roars into the quiet house, his face flushed with rage.
Silas steps further into the room, positioning himself between me and the trembling girl in the corner. “Watch your fucking tongue, or I’ll relieve you of it.”
“Oh, careful Evan,” I coo. “You can’t charm women into falling for you if you can’t fill their little heads with lies.
” I cluck my tongue and slide the blade across the sheet, slicing off a strip of fabric.
I shove it into his mouth, silencing him.
Now, his treacherous mouth can only offer up muffled grunts and choked insults.
“Please don’t hurt him. Let us go. We don’t even know who you are.”
Silas and I pause, then glance at each other and burst into hysterical laughter.
I hadn’t imagined tonight going quite like this.
I’d planned to slip in, carve a reminder into Evan’s manhood, and slip out.
But I’m still trying to suss Silas out to see if he’s going to be a complication or an unexpected accomplice.
Time will tell, but his presence changes nothing for my plans.
I stroll over to the sniveling mess on the floor and crouch beside her. With the edge of my blade, I hook back her tangle of golden hair, locking eyes with her tear-rimmed ones.
“Listen, sweetheart. You might not know who I am. You probably don’t know who he is either,” I add, jerking my thumb toward the large shadow, silently observing from a couple of feet away.
“And that’s your only saving grace. But little man on the bed?
He knows exactly who I am. And exactly why I’m here.
” A wild grin stretches across my face, and she recoils deeper into the corner.
Smart girl.
I rise and quickly approach Silas. His tall frame takes up my view, and I lock in on his gaze. “You in or out?”
“Fuck, wildcat.” He gives me a long look, gaze flicking down my body.
I’m still wearing the same tight pants and oversized T-shirt from when I was dry-humping his thigh earlier. That flicker of lust reignites in his eyes, and the bulge in his jeans betrays him.
“I’m in.”
I nod sharply and pat his chest. “Then deal with her.”
The girl squeaks as Silas steps toward her, his form engulfing her in darkness. I take that as my cue to return to Evan, my main event.
When the room falls quiet and we’re finally alone, I peel off my balaclava.
Evan’s eyes widen, but then his body relaxes into the mattress.
His eyes flick back and forth, calculating and no doubt trying to devise a way out.
One that ends with me behind bars and humiliated for what I dared do to him.
“Do you know what they say, Evan?”
I spin my favorite knife between my fingers, the tip pressing just deep enough into my skin to draw my concentration tight with its sting.
“If you can see your attacker’s face, your odds of survival are slim to none. Do you know your odds?”
I wait a beat, watching for the moment he realizes.
“Nil,” I whisper, then step between his legs and drive the knife through his left testicle, pinning it to the mattress below.
His muffled screams shatter the silence, and he thrashes in his restraints until the added pain teaches him stillness is a better option.
Blood pools beneath him, soaking into the expensive duvet.
The white blossoms into red, and I idly wonder if I should redecorate my bedroom in such a rich, vibrant shade.
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” Silas’s shocked voice ripples behind me.
“Not what you expected?” I don’t look back, but I hear his boots approaching.
His heat wraps around me, a strong arm encircling my waist. His nose skims along my neck, inhaling deeply.
“How can someone who smells like sunshine and coconut be responsible for the bleeding man in front of me?”
“I’m complicated,” I murmur. More than he’ll ever know.
He chuckles, his chest vibrating against my back. Evan groans again, drawing me out of the comfort of Silas’s hold.
A grandfather clock chimes somewhere off in the house, a friendly reminder it’s time to finish the job. My guys will be here soon to clean up the mess and I don’t need Silas here, breathing down my neck when that happens.
“Well, Evan, your little girlfriend cost me the time I wanted to really play with you. So, it looks like this will be quick. Which is a damn shame, considering how much pain you truly deserve for what you did to my best friend.”
I yank the knife from his sack, and blood squirts from the open wound.
“But should I stop at one?” I muse. “Or go for two? Not like you’ll need them when I’m through with you.”
The answer is obvious to me. My blade comes down again, slicing into the right testicle. I don’t leave it this time. I carve downward, splitting the scrotum open entirely. His screams are shorter now; men like him rarely stay conscious through pain this intense.
It’s too bad, really. It takes part of the fun out of removing his flaccid manhood, but I do. Then I rip the sopping fabric gag off his mouth and shove the severed flesh down his throat. Not that he notices. His chest barely rises and falls. Death is close.
“You should go,” I say to Silas, who’s now across the room, typing something on his phone, unaffected by my unhinged behavior and the carnage it’s left behind.
I stride over, the bloodied knife still gripped in my right hand and snatch the device from his grasp.
I’ve got a job for two. 102 Marks Ave.
There’s no name, just a string of random letters and numbers in the contact line.
“Call off your hounds. I’ve got this covered.”
That’s when I hear two sets of heavy footsteps making their way up the stairs.