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My fingers curled in tighter.
“Where the fuck is she?” I yelled, slamming him back against the Murphys’ SUV, getting a sick sort of satisfaction from the way his face was going red, the way his hands were trying to grab at my arm, trying to get himself free.
“The fuck are you doing?” Cillian hissed.
My free hand moved out, grabbing a hold of the bastard’s earring and yanking as hard as I could, watching it rip through his earlobe, leaving it split as I tossed the earring toward Cillian.
“That is the exact same earring that Dell pulled out of his ear in Vegas,” I told him, yanking Patrick back, then slamming him against the car again, loving the sound of his skull cracking against the window a little bit more than was probably healthy.
“You can’t… no,” Conor said, looking back and forth between me and his older brother.
“He didn’t bust his knuckles like this hitting someone who he still can’t identify,” I reasoned. “He probably punched a wall to make it look good, to throw you off his trail. Did any of you see him the day of Delaney’s attack?” I asked, looking over to see them all sharing looks and shaking their heads.
My hand released Patrick’s throat so I could pull back and slam my fist into the side of his face.
“Where is she?” I roared, grabbing him when he started to fall, yanking him back up, holding him by the front of his shirt, and wailing into his face with my free arm, watching that nose break again, hearing the crunching sound as his eye socket crumbled too.
Another fist landed to his mouth and the blood immediately filled it, pouring out down his chin.
“Tell me where she is!” I yelled, yanking him back and slamming him against the car once again, watching as his gaze went in and out of focus from the impact.
“Enough,” Cillian hissed, grabbing one of my arms. “I said enough!” he yelled as Conor grabbed my other arm, both of them dragging me back.
“He knows where she is,” I growled, yanking against their holds.
“And he isn’t going to be able to tell us if you knock him unconscious,” Cillian reasoned, tossing me back a couple steps, then slamming his hands into my chest when I tried to charge forward again.
When Cillian and Conor turned back toward Patrick, I felt myself automatically moving forward a step before a hand grabbed my shoulder from behind.
“That’s their sister,” Slash reminded me.
“She’s mine,” I hissed, yanking away from his hold and moving forward.
“Not yours,” Patrick managed between spitting out blood onto the ground. “Never.”
“No? She was mine last night, though, wasn’t she?” I asked, ignoring the angry gaze of Conor as I said it. “And in Vegas. She was mine then too. Fucking pathetic piece of shit. You’re fucking delusional if you thought she’d ever want your ass.”
“She’s mine,” he insisted. “You’ll never get her back.”
Yeah.
I saw fucking red.
I don’t know if I automatically assumed that, by that, he meant that she was dead, that he’d taken her, forced himself on her, then killed her so no one else could ever have her again, or what.
But I didn’t exactly stop to ask, either.
I fucking flew at him, taking him to the ground with me.
Fists, face, knees, I went at him with everything I had, clawing at skin, crushing bones.
From both sides, arms went up under mine, yanking me up, trying to pull me away. But not before I got one last kick in.
“He needs to tell us where she is,” Cillian reminded me when I tried to fight against him. “He’s the only one who knows.”
“What about his place?” I asked, feeling sweat and blood slide off my face and onto my shirt.
“He lives in an apartment,” Sean explained. “There’s no way he could forcefully take her there.”
I swear all our gazes slid behind the clubhouse, over the mountains where Death Valley was situated.
Had that part of his story been true? Had he taken her there, never to be seen again? Even if we all searched, the chances of finding her there were slim.
No.
He wouldn’t have used the real location as his cover.
It would be the first place we would all look.
“Are there any abandoned buildings in the area?” I asked, looking around to everyone else since I hadn’t been back long enough to know. “What about one of the boarded-up buildings in town?”
Could he have taken her to the deli where I’d first fucked Delaney?
It would make sense for his jealous ass.
“No,” Sean said, shaking his head.
“There are,” Rian insisted, brows pinching as he looked at his brother.
“No. That’s not where he took her.”
“Where would he take her then?” I asked.
“The farm,” Sean said, making his brothers turn to look at him, but my gaze went to Patrick.
He was barely holding onto consciousness, but there was a wide look to his eyes that wasn’t swelling up yet.
