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I hated when anyone decided they could just up and take what was not offered to them. How manly did you want to feel to overpower a fucking woman? I slid off my stool, gripping the forty-thousand-dollar bottle of vodka in my hand. Sam was laughing nervously, trying to pull her hand from the fat fuck, when I smashed the bottle into his head, knocking him out cold on the ground.
My bartender shrieked, scampering off behind the bar, along with about a dozen other patrons, who freaked out and charged for the door. The pathetic waste of skin was unconscious at my feet. He kicked at my need to kill, but so many people were looking in my direction.
I growled and walked over to one of my bodyguards, Mario.
“Get this disgusting asshole out of my club,” I said.
Some blood slid down my arm. That was when I noticed my hand was cut. It was probably from the glass, so I snagged the first-aid kit Samantha left on the bar and found some gauze. The fact that I needed to wrap up my hand annoyed me.
Checking back in with Mario, he grunted and nodded at me. The man was a wall of muscle, but his grunt of confirmation that the situation had been ‘handled’ was our only form of communication.
Good enough for me.
* * *
Later that night, I ran into Javier Ramirez. He was a nervous mess. He paced back and forth, leaving a hole in the floor from his consistent movement.
“I do not know, man, I’m telling you….” Javier started. “The cops just wanted me to be a fucking snitch. They kept asking who the Butcher was, but I swear I will not flip on Markus.”
My fingers twitched with the need to draw blood, and it was growing more intense by the second. I had to calm down. This fool was currently working with the cops, and killing him would only cause the soles of my shoes to wear down from having to get farther away from those nosy-ass pigs.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I ground out, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Listen to the law enforcement exactly as they say, and report back to me when they get in touch again. Use your burner only.”
The mule didn’t waste time. Maybe he could feel the heat of my aggravation because it was radiating off me.
God, if I didn’t kill soon, I was going to lose myself.
Stalking toward an alley, letting the shadows hide me, I ducked under the bridge and found exactly what I was seeking—the first tent under King’s Briar Bridge.
“What are you doing here? I don’t know you, man. Keep walking on.” The young man’s springy, black hair bounced with the slightest movement.
I simply smiled, that fire licking up my arms and consuming me bit by bit.
“Of course,” I said, eyeing the friend of my Little Shadow.
He was standing in the tiny corner of the tent city. All around us, lined, side by side, were tattered tents and sleeping bags, most closed for the night, which made sense because my watch said it was close to four in the morning.
I wondered why the kid was awake. Snow White called him Randy or something like that. I continued my walk, getting further in and finally under the bridge. The noise was deafening when a car drove over, and I wondered how these people slept.
I wonder if my Little Shadow caught any more prey.
The feeling of being near her little area of tent city had me buzzing. Electricity sizzled and hummed underneath my skin.
Arriving at the dock area, I looked around, trying to find some shadows to hide in, but there weren’t many. In fact, there wasn’t much of anything in this area at all, just a tiny little blood-red tent. The falling water from the release valves attached under the bridge echoed as it dropped into the water below and onto the damp concrete.
It was pretty damn dark in this area, and I wondered how the fuck the girl hadn’t fallen to her death in the frigid water because of the lack of light. I had to make careful movements to be sure I wasn’t doing her a favor and ending myself.
If I had to guess, the cemented block of concrete was about six or so feet up from the water, and even with the low tide, I doubted very much I’d be able to find that flimsy ass ladder I’d hidden on before when I waited for the right moment to make my move.
I listened in the darkness, my eyes straining to catch the small bit of moonlight that periodically filtered through the cracks.
Damn, this woman was a fucking bat. No wonder she could hide so easily from the law, but she couldn’t hide from me. I approached the tent, careful with my footfalls. Picking up a broken bottle, I used its reflective properties to help me see by using the moon’s light.
Was she sleeping again?
The realization that I was so close to her and that she was so helpless and unprepared had sparks of adrenaline popping around inside me, making it easier to see in the dark. Unzipping the tent slowly, I squinted hard, listening for soft breathing or rustling. Anything to show I had alerted her.
Instead, I was met with an empty tent and stale air.
