AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It’s fucking showtime.
The four of us head down to the beach with the two prospects following obediently behind us like the dogs they are.
Under the darkness of night, I, along with Riot, check the cargo on the small fishing boat, while Chaos and Mayhem talk with the smugglers. I run my leather-clad fingers over the small crates of heroin. It gets blamed for causing death and destruction, but to me, it’s the person who chooses to shoot the shit into their veins who causes the damage. I’ve never blamed the tools I’ve used on people for the damage I’ve inflicted. That shit’s all on me. It’s one and the same in my eyes.
“Looks good,” Riot calls to Chaos over his shoulder.
I step away, cursing the sand sneaking into my boots. I fucking hate these pickups. I prefer the runs into the city because they’re much smoother, with just the road beneath us.
“Prospects, load them into the van,” Chaos orders, and they get to work.
I turn to the smugglers, who aren’t the same ones from last month. One is pretty young—too young—and I wonder for all of two seconds how he got himself into this business, then quickly remind myself it’s none of my concern, and that I don’t give a shit. They’re just parts of the machine that keep turning. If not them, there would be someone else replacing them with the click of a finger.
Chaos hands over the payment, and I drag my arse back up to our bikes, still bitching about the swap being at the beach.
With the cargo safely in the van, we set off and head for the city. The ride is therapeutic. I always find being on the road relaxing. There’s nothing that can get to you out here on the dark back roads in the middle of the night.
Brothers ride in formation, with the van driving up front at a distance, and all I can think about is Evie pleasuring herself. Every gasp, moan, and cry has me leaking in my boxers. The farther I get from Eastford and Evie, the more she’s in my head, and I’m good with that. Lexi would be happy that I’m focusing on something so pure instead of violence and death.
I want the job done. I got word his wife and kids are going out of town tonight. He’ll be home alone.
That’s the text I woke up to, and though I had planned to go straight to Evie’s, I take a detour.
His street is quiet. I kill the engine, letting it fade to silence between my legs. I usually creep around in the dead of night, but I need to lay eyes on Evie as soon as possible. This mark isn’t standing in my way tonight.
I left my usual bag of tricks at home, choosing only to bring a few torture toys that I could fit inside my pocket. Swinging my leg over my ride, I look out for any movement from the neighbours’ windows. Seeing no one, I slink up along the mark’s front path.
Slipping my knuckle dusters down my fingers, I clench my hand into a fist, embracing the cold, unrelenting metal. With neighbours on either side, I don’t need the grief of anyone hearing a scuffle before I can get into the house and call the police. It’s not good for business, nor my reputation.
I knock on the door, and it’s not long before the hall light flicks on and the door opens. Before he can get a good look at me, I slam my fist into his jaw so hard, he spins on his feet and lands on the floor like a brick. He’s out for the count, and I quickly step over him and close the door. Once I’m inside, the rush takes hold of me.
Dragging his body through the hall, he remains unconscious as I kick open the dining room door and pull him through. Positioning him on a chair, he stirs as I’m yanking the ropes from inside my pocket. No sooner have I got him tied up and gagged, he’s fighting against his restraints when a small dog bolts into the room, yapping away around my boots, giving me a fucking headache. Sometimes it bores me how predictable people are. For once, I’d like to be shocked. I can’t really blame them, because I’m fuckin good at what I do.
“Mr. Kwan sends his warmest regards.”
I pass on the message, and for the next four hours, I beat, torture, and ridicule Peter James until it sinks in and the message is clear. At this point, he’s barely breathing.
The fucking dog continues to yap around my ankles. Bending down, I scoop it up and look it in the eye. Its shrill yaps turn to whimpers the longer I stare at it.
“What am I going to do with you?” I ask it, mad at myself for expecting an answer.
Shoving a knife into its gut would definitely send a message to the arsehole once he wakes up, but not even I’m that psychotic.
Tossing him into the downstairs bathroom, I close the door and backtrack to the kitchen, where I grab the little shit’s food and water bowl. Setting it inside for him, or her, I close the door before it can escape.
Heading back into the dining room, I pick out the cigarette butts with my DNA on them and see myself out. Once I’m on the street, I make sure no one notices me and throw the butts down the nearest drain, never to be seen again. Finally ready to head out, I roll my bike around to the next street over before climbing on and bringing it to life.
The scent of blood fills my nose. The rush of violence courses through me so fast, it’s dizzying. Normally, I’d return to the club and drink until I passed out to bring down the adrenaline, but there’s only one place I want to go to tonight. One woman who can keep me focused and redirect that adrenaline.
I ride through the town, imagining Evie’s perfume replacing the smell of blood that’s slowly fading with the late-night breeze.
Pulling up outside of her house, I cut the engine and dig out my phone to shoot her off a quick text.
