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“Happy Birthday, darlin’.” The male voice startles me, and when I spin around I find Squealer's eyes dancing over my body greedily.
“You okay?” he asks, squinting his eyes like he can sense something’s off. “You look kinda freaked.”
“I’m just tired.” I pull everything together so I can smile at him.
“I got somethin for ya if you wanna come back to mine?” Squealer fists his junk, and when his cut moves slightly I catch a glimpse of the dagger he’s got strapped to his belt.
It sparks a little bit of life back inside me.
“That’s sweet of you, Squeal.” I pace closer and rest my palm on his solid chest. I watch his lips curve up into a smirk as I slide it down over his impressive abs, all the way to his belt. Then stretching high up on my toes, I allow my lips to touch the skin just below his ear.
“But ya ain’t my type,” I whisper. Turning my back on him, I head back toward my car, taking a quick glance down into my hand and smirking to myself. I managed to retrieve it so smoothly he didn’t even notice. But then, I always did have swift hands.
“Never had you down as a cock tease, Rogue,” Squealer shouts after me.
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, sweet cheeks,” I call over my shoulder, before sliding into my car and tucking Squealer’s little weapon into my boot.
And the next time Chop or any other fucker thinks they can hurt me, I promise myself that I’ll teach them a lesson that will be their last.
There’s only one way to bury this shit for good, and that’s to bury them.
I’m done looking over my shoulder, I won’t be this club's latest problem. I’m not sinless and innocent like the other girls are. I don’t need protection.
I’m fucking Rogue.
I protect myself.
Always have and always will.
I can work on forgetting them… when I know they’re all destroyed.
Rushing back to the bedroom, I open the underwear drawer and take out my gun. I tuck it into the back of my jeans before I check myself in the mirror. My make-up is on point today and it seems I’m having a good hair day too. I’m ready to do the world a fuckin’ favor and rid it of some assholes.
I leave the cabin, crossing the yard and getting in Skid’s car, then I speed out of the club knowing exactly where I can start my hunt.
The bar out at Pueblo is quiet, but it's still early. Stevo is sitting at his usual spot at the end of the bar and he doesn’t even look up from his paper as I strut in. Not until I pull the gun from my jeans and press it against his temple, anyway.
“They ain’t here,” he tells me, without even flinching.
Stevo never touched me himself, but he knew that they did and he’d never tried to stop them. He let them use his bar to drink and brag about it. He fed me chips and supplied me with sodas when Daddy brought me here with them.
I wonder if he was ever sick enough to have wanted to cross the line with me too.
Maybe I should blow his brains out against the wall just in case.
“Tell me where I can find them,” I ask him calmly, I’ve got to stay cool and think straight.
“Let me think about this, you already sent one of them on a one-way trip, so that just leaves Nick, Derek, and McAlister.”
“Start speaking, Stevo.” I press the gun deeper into his skull and he rolls his eyes. He probably thinks this is an empty threat, and I fire a shot into the floor to prove there’s nothing empty about my barrel.
“They’ve been spending a lot of their time out at McAlister’s farm, you know it?”
“I know it,” I tell him, getting ready to leave.
“Rogue, you ain’t thinking about doing anything stupid, are ya?” he asks me, almost sounding like he’s concerned for me. He’s about ten years too fuckin’ late on that one.
“Nothing that shouldn’t have been done a long time ago.”
