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Chapter One
Leather
Why can’t anything go the way I need it to?
"You’re a piece of shit!” I snap, smacking him. Hard. He grunts as my hand whooshes, his head whipping to the side with the force. Arms tied behind his back, his chest pushed out and begging for me to rip his meek little heart out. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’ve fucked with the wrong woman.”
“Fucking cunt,” he spits, blood coated saliva landing on my boot. “You women think you can just jump into a man’s world? You’re nothing more than breeding bitches!”
“Really?” I pretend to pout and kick a rock under my boot. “That is just too darn bad. This little breeder has been a naughty girl! She hasn’t laid on her back for a useless man in a while. Sad face,” I taunt, jutting my bottom lips out. He shouts and attempts to break the rope off his wrists again.
He continues to struggle, yet I can only watch in pure fascination. If he manages to get out, then I get another chance at whipping his ass into shape.
“Get on your back like a good bitch does, and maybe you’ll finally understand your place in this world.” Tilting my head from side to side, I pretend to contemplate my decision.
“Hmmm, nah, I don’t think so.” His elbow twitches, and I whip my pistol from my holster. “Night night!” With a simple pull of the trigger, a bullet lodges between his eyes.
Blood splatters the wall behind him, brain matter spilling across the bricks. I watch as his body crumples to the ground, legs giving out without the tension in the muscles. His empty brick head slams onto the ground, cracking open from the back. The splatter flies around him and up onto me.
I revel in the way it trickles from his hair, zoning into the droplets falling and splashing onto the concrete. It’s almost like I can hear the droplets falling.
Splash.
Splash.
Spla-
The distant sound of engines revving snaps me out of my daze. Glancing down at my body, I watch the red liquid slowly drop down the leather pants. “Ah, fucking hell,” I grumble, reaching into my pocket for my phone. “You’d better fucking pick up.” Dialing the number, the ring is monotonous as it goes, and it’s almost like-
“What?” He barks, his breathing heavy and labored. Yanking the device away from me, I can’t help but cringe in disgust.
“First off all, that’s fucking gross,” I grimace, knowing that my Prez is probably balls deep right now. “Should have just let me go to voicemail. Second, it’s done.” I don’t wait for a response before ending the call since I have zero desire to hear that shit.
It’s not like I have an aversion to sex, don’t get me wrong, but Prez is like an older brother I never wanted, other than he’s not really brother material besides being my biker brother…does that make sense? Probably not because I would fuck him in a heart beat. So, I suppose he’s not brotherly at all in any way, shape, or form. Which is a plus because I have seen him with some of the jacket pickers. He’s hung.
Eyeing the dude, I take his jacket off and tie it around my waist like I own the fucking thing. I would rather burn it, but it’ll make a great souvenir for their men later on. I can see us sending it over to their clubhouse, maybe even add a little memento from this guy to top it all off. Plus, I think this is genuine leather, the good shit. Rolling up his sleeves, I find the tattoo I’m looking for. Big D Raiders. Unfortunately, it doesn’t mean dick. This dumbass biker gang has been helping use kids for sex trafficking, snatching them off their fucking lawns and sending them across the world for their own benefit.
Anger bubbles in my veins at the outrageous shit they have done. After the shit they have done…I can’t pretend I don’t have a vendetta of my own.
I grab my switchblade from my pocket, flaying the skin off his arm to remove the piece of garbage ink. The flabby skin dangles from my gloved hand, his arm pouring blood from the open wound, and I make no effort to stop it. Fascinating, really, the amount of work it takes to keep someone from bleeding out, yet it’s so easy to just...slice right in the throat.
“Serves you right for acting like a dick,” I mutter, pulling a small baggie from my other pocket. Stuffing the removed piece in and shoving it away, I eye the guy curiously.
I bet his penis is the size of my pinky.
Scooping a bit of blood, I smear SRWD on his forehead. Silent Renegade of Washington District. They will know we’re onto them, exactly like we planned. Big D will have to watch their backs, look over their shoulder during every transaction. Every waking minute they will be anticipating when and how SRWD will strike next.
A bead dribbles down his cheek into his open eye, and I watch with utter fascination as it coasts into his ducts. Collecting there, it’s like a red waterfall, flowing dramatically down his cheek. A possessive inkling digs into my chest, the longing feeling that I just skinned this man for revenge. While the blood oozes from the wound, my chest grasps for the feeling again. The triumph, the glory of taking the last breath of a man involved in one of the worst things in the world. A vile creature he is, and I want nothing more than to take out the whole fucking gang that tore my brother from me. I will do whatever it takes to get my vengeance.
“That was hot,” a deep voice calls from behind me. Jolting, I swing around with my gun aimed right for his head. The barrel points right between his eyes, the middle ground for a quick execution. But, just as I go to pull the trigger, I exhale raggedly.
“Fuck,” I bark, swinging my arm down. “Dumbass! You don’t just walk up on people like that.” Irritation floods my nerves as I turn back to my victim. The shocked expression he wore is still imprinted in my mind, lingering in satisfaction as my work blooms and the blood drips from his other wounds. A perfect, miserable masterpiece.
A sudden weight presses against my back, a knife tilted at my throat. The sharp edge threatens to nick my skin, yet I push into the blade, if only slightly.
“All bark, no bite.” Gnashing his teeth, he drags the point of the tip against my jaw and his free hand snakes around my waist. “Maybe you should stay more vigilant. Don’t worry, I’m here to save the day. When I said you were hot, I wasn’t joking. Can’t you tell?” His hips press into me, his hardened bulge pressing into my ass as he releases a strangled groan. Rolling my eyes, I push back against him, rubbing a little. Teasing him a bit.
“And I’m pretty sure I said I only like big cocks,” I retort, knowing damn well he’s packing more heat in his jeans than I do in my weapons. The knife presses even harder into my throat, the sting in the slice of my skin brings clarity to my brain before he drops it away with a huffed laugh. Red is barely evident on the shiny metal, but I catch it.
