by Lilly Atlas
“Fuck you.”
Rocket lunged forward, pressing the deadly tip of the knife against the base of Lefty’s dick. “No,” he said. “Fuck you.” He dragged the end of blade down the length of Lefty’s dick, scraping hard enough to cut a shallow slice into the skin. A high-pitched shriek flew from his captive’s mouth. The sound filled Rocket with a sadistic pleasure. This was what he’d been seeking for months. Not just Lefty’s death, but his suffering. His fucking torment. “In fact, how about I take this,” Rocket said as he returned the knife to the root of Lefty’s dick, “right off your body and fuck you with it? Give you a little taste of what you gave to Chloe.”
Sweat beaded across Lefty’s forehead. A few drops rolled down his face, mixing with the blood and pooling on the floor. His gaze was riveted to the knife as though he could somehow stare it away.
“Nothing to say now?” Rocket said with a laugh. “Too bad. I was so enjoying listening to you run your fucking mouth.” He dug the knife in. “I’m gonna need to hear something or I’ll go through with my plan.”
“N-no. Don’t.” Lefty’s eyes were wide, crazed as his legs started to tremble.
“Begging already? Huh, I’m kinda disappointed.” He laughed again. “Thought you’d hold out a little longer. You pig shits are all the same. Think you’re the top junkyard dog. Love to lord over those weaker than you. But the second a bigger dog comes on the scene; you turn into a giant pussy begging to let you keep this tiny thing you call a dick. Let me hear some more. I’m not fully convinced you don’t want me to cut it off.” He nicked Lefty again, this time in an arch over his cock as if he were going to cut a circle around it.
“D-don’t do it. Don’t cut it off.” High-pitched again, almost as though Rocket had already rid him of his nuts. Ohh, he could take those as well. The cock and his balls. A perfect set.
“Why?” Rocket asked. “Because you need it to rape women?”
“N-no.” Sweat dripped down his face in rivers now. He was uselessly bucking against the bindings, trying to get his arms and legs free.
“You sure? I’m having a hard time believing one would fuck you willingly.”
“Rocket.” Copper’s bark hit him like the crack of a whip, jerking a response out of him.
He stilled, knife pricking the skin above Lefty’s dick.
Fuck.
The bastard’s fear evaporated, morphing into a smirk once again. Fury surged through Rocket’s veins, but he steeled his expression. He tilted his head while keeping the knife gouging into Lefty’s skin. Let the man think he was prepared to discount his president.
“Rocket,” Copper said again.
For a flash, he was tempted to drive the knife forward, fuck his president’s wishes. But he didn’t. He tossed the blade onto Lefty’s stomach. It landed with a thump against a bruise Rocket hoped came from Chloe.
Lefty hissed.
As Rocket turned, LJ and Zach entered the kitchen.
“Hallway, Rocket. Now,” Copper growled. His stony expression gave away nothing about his anger, but make no mistake, the president was fucking pissed. About as furious as Rocket had ever seen him. That damn boot didn’t hinder him a bit. At least not when he was rip-shit.
Zach and LJ stared down at Lefty. As he passed, Zach thumped Rocket on the back. Lefty’s belligerent laughter followed Rocket out of the kitchen. Did the fucker think this was some kind of reprieve? Once in the hallway Copper speared him with a hate-filled look. He rubbed his beard and appeared to be choosing his words carefully. “Jig’s gonna drive your woman to hang with Izzy. After you say goodbye to her you’re going to ride to the fucking clubhouse. I’ll meet you there. You’re lucky I don’t slice that brand off your arm right here and now. You hear me?” Copper was practically vibrating with suppressed rage. “Do you fucking hear me?”
Rocket stared his president down. “I hear you.” No matter his punishment, he’d do the same thing again. Lefty had been delivered with a fucking bow—literally. Couldn’t look that gift horse in the mouth.
“Fuck were you thinking Rocket?”
“He fucking touched her. Again.” he spat out as fury surged once again. “How’d you know?”
Copper didn’t answer.
“How. Did. You—Jesus.” Like a smack to the face, it dawned on him. A soul-crushing sense of betrayal stole his ability to breathe. No. Not Chloe. She couldn’t have. Wouldn’t have. She knew exactly what this meant to him. Hell, she’d suffered through the past two weeks of his absence for this very moment. She’d told him she loved him for fuck’s sake. But one look at Copper’s face confirmed his fear.
Chloe had stabbed him right in the back. Taken away the thing that had driven him forward for months.
Revenge.
He turned, unable to continue talking to Copper without risking spewing some vile shit he could never take back. As he stepped outside, he caught sight of Chloe standing with Jigsaw. His solemn brother said something and pointed over her shoulder. She whipped around, scanning until she found him. Her cheeks were wet, eyes somber, but the moment they landed on him, she appeared lighter. After squeezing Jig’s hand, she took off at a run.
“Logan,” she said as she reached for him with outstretched arms. He sidestepped her embrace and just glared at her. He couldn’t deal with her right now. He was too enraged. Too furious that his shot at Lefty had been interrupted. Because of her. He couldn’t see anything past Lefty’s smirk and Chloe’s injured face.
Her expression fell. Crumbled to pieces right before his eyes. Despite it all, despite her disloyalty, he had to dig his blunt nails into his palms to keep his traitorous hands from reaching for her. The sight of her heartbroken tears had a power over him like no other.
“L-Logan?” She placed her hand on his arm.
“Not now.” He shook her off, ignoring her shocked gasp.
“Please,” she said, again reaching for him. She either wasn’t aware or didn’t care that a handful of his brothers witnessed her near begging. “I had to.”
That may be true, but there were things he had to do as well, and killing Lefty topped that list.
“Logan if you’re not gonna haul that woman into your arms and kiss her silly for saving your fool ass, then get on your bike,” Copper said from behind him.
With one last scowl in Chloe’s direction, he marched toward his motorcycle. After climbing on his bike and donning his helmet, he risked a peek at the house. Copper frowned at him from the front stoop. Screw hovered next to him, his bulging arms wrapped around a sobbing Chloe.
He knew he should go to her. Should be the one to hold her and comfort her. She’d been attacked and fought for her life, not to mention experienced the shock of finding her rapist in her house. But he couldn’t. He was too fucking angry to think logically.
CHLOE’S HEART ACHED until tears clogged her throat and poured out her eyes. Two incredibly strong arms held her close, and a sweet man whispered soothing words in her ear.
But they were the wrong arms. And the wrong voice. And the wrong man.
So it did nothing to quell the heartbreak or ease her guilt.
He was so angry with her. Angry enough to end it? Of course, there was no screaming match. No hurled accusations or words of hatred. Words weren’t Logan’s style. But that look? That glare that conveyed what words never could? How she’d stolen something from him. That look would remain with her for the rest of her life.
She turned her head and watched him ride off through watery eyes.
When he was out of sight, she pulled out of Screw’s embrace. Copper peered down at her. “You did good here today, Chloe. Your man doesn’t agree right now, but he can’t see past his hatred of Lefty. Club has rules, strict ones. Had he continued here today I’d have been forced to take his patch and worse. You saved his ass, girl.”
Didn’t feel like she’d done anything but turn her life upside down once again.
“Come on.” He slung a heavy arm across her shoulders. “Let’s get you to Izzy. If there’s anyone
who’s good company when a man’s being an idiot, it’s Izzy.”
Chloe cracked a smile because she felt he expected it, but her heart wasn’t in it.
Worst part of the entire afternoon was that she’d make the same choices again given a do over. The club was Rocket’s life. How could she let him risk it all to avenge crimes committed against her?
She couldn’t. Simple as that.
Too bad that thought wouldn’t keep her warm through the night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ROCKET SPLAYED HIS hands on the bar, head hanging as he fought for control of his emotions. Not a phrase he’d ever thought in reference to himself. On a normal day, emotional shit was easy. Turn it off. Compartmentalize. Shove it deep in the vault. Thanks to Chloe, he’d been bombarded by every goddamned feeling he’d refused to allow in the past.
But there were two he was achingly familiar with.
Fury and guilt. The two emotions that registered as soon as he heard Chloe’s scared voice through the phone. They had taken over, clogged his brain and heart until nothing else could penetrate their thick walls. And the fury grew to epic levels once his chance at torturing Lefty was shot to shit.
The clubhouse door flew open, bouncing off the wall with a loud bang. Copper’s body filled the space. “Everyone out!” he shouted. “Right fucking now.”
As much as he’d love to hightail it out of there, Copper’s order didn’t extend to him.
Thunder, one of the newer prospects, froze mid-pour. He glanced from Copper to Rocket. He could obey the damn order after he finished getting Rocket his drink. With a wave of his hand, Rocket urged him to continue.
“Uh, yeah, man, here.” He capped the bottle with one hand while pushing the not full enough tumbler across the bar. “I’m outta here.”
“The fuck is this?” Rocket asked lifting the glass which couldn’t have held more than an ounce of whiskey.
With a snort, Thunder rounded the bar. “That is me obeying the prez. Something I hear you forgot how to do.” His hand landed on Rocket’s shoulder as he walked by. “Good luck, man. Think you might need it. The big man looks like he’s been chewing bullets.”
“Fuck you,” Rocket said before downing the meager amount of alcohol. “I’ll remember this shit when it comes time to vote you in.”
Thunder just laughed and jetted toward the exit with a “Hey, Prez,” on his way out.
The drop of whiskey he’d consumed wouldn’t do shit to numb the fucking feelings he’d grown so he reached across the bar and helped himself to the bottle Thunder had abandoned. Fuck the glass. He unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, aware of Copper’s hard stare the entire time.
“You done?” Cop asked as his heavy tread sounded across the floor. The boot he wore on his left leg thumped along making Rocket wonder how the hell the prez had managed to sneak up on him at Chloe’s house. He’d just been that zoned out, intent on destroying Lefty.
“Just getting started.” Rocket set the bottle down and turned to face his president. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he’d crossed about a hundred lines this afternoon. He just wasn’t sure he had it in him to be sorry. But one look at the fury on his president’s face had him second guessing that theory.
Copper wasn’t just pissed, he actually looked sad. And that gutted Rocket ten times worse than anger ever would.
“Here’s how this shit is gonna go,” Copper said, taking a seat at the bar. He faced Rocket head on and when he paused, the quiet room seemed to mock Rocket’s thoughts. “I’m gonna talk and if you have any desire to hang onto that patch, you’re gonna keep your fucking mouth shut. Think you owe me at least that much respect. Yes?”
Shit.
Shame washed over Rocket, far worse than any punishment Copper could dish out. So much of what the club stood for came down to respect, and Rocket had shown his president the ultimate disrespect today. Not intentionally. In truth, there wasn’t a man alive Rocket respected more than the club’s top guy, and he, as well as his brothers, followed a strict code which demonstrated respect for Copper.
At least until today.
Fuck, he was a royal asshole.
He gave Copper a single nod. If the man wanted him to shut up and listen, he’d do it. It was the least he owed him.
“All right.” After stroking his beard, Copper grabbed the open whiskey and downed a gulp. “I get it, brother, I really get it.” Copper thumped his chest. “In here.” He patted a gentle hand on his still healing abdomen. “Here.” Then he tapped a finger to his temple. “And here.”
Rocket remained silent, his attention focused on Copper. Being called brother gave him a flicker of hope he hadn’t completely destroyed Copper’s faith in him.
“My woman was hurt by a motherfucker too. Yes, it was different than what Chloe went through, and it was a long time ago, so she’d had time to learn to live with it. But for me? It was all fresh fucking information. And if someone else hadn’t gotten to the bastard first, you can bet your ass I’d have put a bullet in him.”
Rocket shifted his eyes to the orthopedic boot covering Copper’s leg from toes to knee. It had only been a few months since that all went down. Only a few months since he found out about the horrors in his own woman’s past and he’d sure as fuck handled it better than Rocket had.
“So I get it, brother. The rage, the hatred, the need for revenge. Not justice. I didn’t give a fuck about justice. Guessing it’s the same for you. There ain’t no such thing as justice for what happened to your woman. Nothing in the world makes up for it. But it feels damn fucking good to make the fucker responsible pay, doesn’t it?”
Rocket grunted.
“Easy to lose your head in that situation. I get that too. But Rocket, I swear to Christ if you ever go against the club again, I’ll tear that patch from your cut, skin the brand from your arm, and kick your ass to the curb myself.”
With a swallow Rocket nodded. Now that he was away from Lefty, rational thought returned. As did the magnitude of his fuck up. Christ, he’d nearly lost his club. Running a hand through his hair, he blew out a breath.
“Yeah,” Copper said. “Crashing down on you now, huh?”
“Cop…” He rolled his shoulders back. Time to fucking grovel.
His president took another drink then shook his head. He slid the bottle across the bar to Rocket. “Don’t need or want an apology. Told you I get it. Just need your word it’s a one-shot deal.”
“You have my word.”
“That means something to me,” Copper said. “Always has. You broke your word once. Do it again and it won’t mean shit to me anymore.”
Which would be the harshest punishment of all. Losing the trust and respect of someone who meant so much to him would make losing his patch that much harder. Chloe had tried to warn him, but he’d been too blinded by hatred to see past his own selfish need for revenge. She’d saved his stupid ass big time. And how did he repay her? With rejection.
Christ, he’d fucked up.
“Now,” Copper continued. “Let’s get down to the box so we can end this shit and let you get on to apologizing to your woman.”
“Not sure an apology is gonna cut it.”
Copper chuckled. “Yeah, you might have to resort to full-on groveling.”
With a grunt, Rocket nodded. He took in his president, who really did understand what Rocket was going through. Shell’s situation had been vastly different but just as devastating and something that would probably haunt Copper for the rest of his life. If there was anyone he could talk to about this shit, it was his prez.
“Shoulda been with her,” Rocket mumbled so low he was surprised Copper actually heard him. “Shoulda checked the goddamn house at least.”
“Ahh,” Copper said before taking another swallow of the whiskey. “Guilt sure is a nasty motherfucker. Makes us do all kinds of stupid shit.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Can you stow the Dr. Phil bullshit? This right here is why I don’t talk to any of you fuckers.”
Rocket grabbed the bottle and downed three healthy gulps.
Copper was back to rubbing his chin. “All right. I’ll give it to you straight. You couldn’t have known what the fuck was going to happen today. Just like we couldn’t have known Lefty was going to rape Chloe in the first place. And you couldn’t have known your buddy’s wife was going to kill herself after his death.”
Rocket watched his president as he continued scratching his beard.
“Much as this is gonna fuck with how you think, it’s gotta be said. You can’t protect everyone all the time. Shit happens. And yes I know that’s a cliché, but it’s also the fucking truth. And when shit goes down, how you deal with it is what matters to the people you care about. No one expects you to be psychic, Rocket. But your woman expects you to be by her side no matter how pissed or guilty you feel.
“You were selfish as fuck. Disobeyed my orders and acted against your club because of what you needed. Chloe went behind your back to save your ass. You wanna feel guilty, feel it over that. Not because you didn’t use your crystal ball to guess that Esposito was going to plant Lefty in your woman’s house.”
With that parting shot, he grabbed the bottle and limped toward the exit. “I get thirty minutes alone with Lefty. Then you’re free to join. I’ll give you the kill, and you can take your time with it, but this ends today,” he called over his shoulder without turning around.
Rocket scrubbed a hand down his face. He’d really fucked this day up no matter which angle you looked at it. He’d been so hot to make Lefty pay, he’d nearly lost the only two things that mattered in his life, his club and his woman. Actually, one of those things was still dangling in the wind. Or at least he hoped the tether hadn’t been completely severed. If the situation weren’t so screwed up, it’d be laughable. For years, Rocket functioned as an elite operative, working under staggering amounts of pressure. He’d been successful under fire, while being hunted, in the most hostile of territories, and never so much as cracked under the strain. But give him one woman with a tragic story, sexy-as-fuck body, and heart big enough to overlook his issues, and he lost his fucking mind.
