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CHAPTER 18
Rider
“Is April with River?” I asked as Capone stepped down the stairs, his boots thumping on the hardwood flooring. Tank followed in behind him with Smokey at his side, Tank’s hand firmly clasped around the back of Smokey’s neck. Smokey had spiraled, having a panic attack for the first time in months. I’d wanted to comfort him, but I wouldn’t leave Malorie. If what April dreamed was true, which normally was, then Malorie was not only shady and two-faced, but she had a cell phone that she was using.
And I wasn’t risking her getting in contact with someone. Not on my fucking watch. Not again.
We could’ve lost Capone, Hawke, and Brewer today, and that shit settled in my gut about as well as battery acid would.
“Yeah,” Capone grunted. “Soon as he got upstairs, I told him to keep her occupied.”
I snorted. “That shouldn’t be too hard. Our woman is a slut for cock.”
Brewer chuckled from his position in the corner. Hawke was next to him. Both of them were standing with their arms crossed over their chests, but their shoulders were pressed together. I would’ve loved to be over there with them, sharing in that quiet intimacy, but I was the torturer. I had the patience the rest of my men lacked, especially Capone. He was the most impatient mother fucker out of all of us.
I slid my fingers into Smokey’s hair when he neared me and brought our foreheads together. Tank drew to a stop next to him, his hand still around the back of Smokey’s neck. Smokey blew out a soft breath, the smell of weed infiltrating my nostrils before he pressed his lips to mine in a soft kiss. I deepened it for a moment, snickering when Malorie scoffed in disgust from the chair I had her tied to. It was the first sound she’d made since I’d dragged her into the basement while Tank, Capone, and Smokey were upstairs.
“You good, baby?” I asked him, opening my eyes so I could search his. They seemed a little lost, which made my soul roar in rage. But I knew we’d eventually bring him back to us.
He nodded. “Tank’s got me.”
I pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, and he sighed, his body relaxing. “We’ve all got you, you hear me? Don’t ever lose sight of that.” I kissed the other corner of his lips.
He nodded. “I won’t. Promise.”
“Good boy,” I murmured before stepping back and dropping my hand. Tank ran his fingers through my brightly colored hair before leading Smokey over to Hawke and Brewer. Hawkewrapped Smokey up in his arms and forced him to lean back against him.
Hawke was such a Daddy. But that title was just for April to use, which was fine with me. Our woman deserved everything in the world, and if we could give it to her, we would without hesitation. Besides, ifanyonewas Smokey’s Daddy, it was Tank.
I shrugged off my cut, passing it off to Capone. He folded it over his arm, nodding once at me to get started. I then turned to face the bitch in front of me, pulling my knife from its holster on my belt. She eyed it but didn’t say anything.
That was alright though. She’d be singing by the time I got done with her. Probably wouldn’t even take much.
“Every time you tell me something I don’t care to hear, I’ll make you bleed,” I warned her. “And I have more patience than any of the other men in this room.” I crouched in front of her, resting my elbows on my knees. “Did you know I once tortured a man and managed to keep him alive while doing it for forty-eight hours?” A cold smirk tilted my lips. “He bled quite a bit. Not much left in him by the time I got done.”
Her jaw tightening was the only response I got. I hummed and licked the edge of my blade, letting blood well up on my tongue before I licked my lips, smearing the blood there. Her pupils got a little wider in horror. I heard Capone quietly moan, and I grinned, blood no doubt staining my teeth. I turned to him and winked before focusing back on my prey.
“First question, Malorie. Let’s see if you try to call my bluff, hm? Who sent you?”
“None of your fucking business,” she growled.
I pursed my lips and nodded my head before I stood. Reaching forward, I cut her shirt open, straight down the middle, before I cut an X into her chest. She screamed through gritted teeth, sweat running in rivulets from her forehead and temples. I stepped back from her, eyeing my handiwork. It could’ve been a little straighter. I needed to brush up on my knife skills.
I locked my eyes back on her pain-filled ones. “Now, Malorie, let’s try again, yes? Who sent you?”
“I’m not telling you shit. You’ll just kill me anyway.”
I snickered. “Yeah, I will, but it’s up to you whether you die slowly and painfully or quickly with minimal trouble.” Then, I stepped forward and cut a plus sign through the cross, making a sort-of fucked up looking asterisk. This time, she couldn’t keep her jaw locked and screamed nice and loud, tears running down her cheeks.
A manic grin tilted my lips.
“Who sent you?” I asked again.
“My boyfriend,” she hissed, blood running down her chest and stomach, staining her jeans. “Angel Lockwood. He’s the president of the Burning Demons.”
I kept my knife to myself, as promised. I was at least a man of my fucking word. That could be trusted, if nothing else about me could be.
I tapped my bloody knife against my other palm. “What does he want with this club?”
