Protector: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Four

by Myers, Shannon

  She took the cash and quickly counted it before letting out a low whistle. “Holy shit, girl. This is five grand. Why you turnin’ tricks when you got cash like this?”

  “Revenge,” I stated flatly. “Are we good?”

  They both nodded in awe and took off, presumably before I had a chance to change my mind. I noted that they looked like supermodels strutting a runway as they disappeared from view, leaving me to wonder if there was a class somewhere I’d missed.

  A sane person would’ve been nervous when the familiar black car pulled up to the curb. Instead, I was strangely excited.

  When he rolled down the window, I stumbled over, knowing from our surveillance that he was going to order me to get in. Despite what I’d learned by watching Pretty Woman, there were no questions regarding price per hour or how much it would cost him for the entire night.

  Several of the girls who’d gone with him hadn’t been seen since. It made what I was about to do even more important.

  I climbed in, before realizing that he hadn’t said a word. He looked me over for several tense seconds before running his tongue over his lip ring.

  “Fuck. You’re a dime piece.”

  I had no idea what a dime piece was but given that he hadn’t thrown me out of his car yet, I could only assume it was something positive.

  I took my lower lip between my teeth and blinked slowly as I looked up at him, something that had never failed to turn Jamie on.

  He reached across and gripped my thigh. “You’re quiet. I like that.” When I stayed silent, he leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I bet I can make you scream, though.”

  Scream, Ma. Get those girls awake, and we’ll show them a good time.

  My leg muscles tightened under his fingers; as if my body remembered what my brain pleaded for me to forget and was urging me to run.

  “It’d be nice if someone could,” I joked softly, hoping he didn’t hear the shakiness in my voice or notice that my fingernails were now embedded in the skin above my knee.

  Manny sat back with a wide grin as he mashed the accelerator against the floorboard. “Oh, you’re fuckin’ perfect.”

  None of the men loitering in the motel’s parking lot wore leather vests. It didn’t make them any less menacing. In the weeks we’d spent watching, I hadn’t seen Cobra or Hawk once, leading me to believe that they were using Manny as bait to draw Jamie out into the open.

  Then, and only then, would they move in.

  He pulled around to the front, near a room I’d seen him enter and leave countless times, taking up two parking spots as he straddled the faded white line.

  “Upstairs. Room two-twenty. Marcus is gonna check you for weapons.”

  How had Molly and I missed that detail?

  Ignoring the beads of sweat that trailed down my spine, I shook my head and pushed my lips into a pout, letting my fingers roam over my breasts. “What if I just want your hands on me?”

  The mere thought made me want to vomit. My performance had been too over-the-top. I knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he’d buy it.

  Manny clenched his jaw, and I waited for the fist that was inevitably coming.

  Proving that men like him only thought with what hung between their legs, his eyes followed the movement of my hand, nostrils flaring as he whispered, “I bet you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?”

  I giggled and opened the door, sounding like a creepy animatronic bear the girls had growing up when its batteries were low. “Why don’t you take me upstairs and find out?”

  With a growl, he jumped out, all but dragging me up to the room. When he reached for the light switch just inside the door, I covered his hand with mine. “Get on the bed.”

  The street lights were one thing, but there would be no hiding who I was if he flipped that switch. His hand shot up and tightened around my jaw, and I realized I’d made a mistake. If I wanted to make it out of this alive, I had to think like he did.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, bitch. I make the rules. We clear?”

  I nodded as the overhead light kicked on. “I under—”

  He spit into my open mouth and grinned. “You do now.”

  Adrenaline flooded my body, and I dug my fingernails into the palm of my hand to fight it.

  His eyes narrowed on my face, and he cocked his head to the side. “Wait a minute, I know you—”

  “I don’t think so.” My heart hammered against my ribs, but I refused to take my eyes off of him. I’d been sucker-punched once before. This time, I was going to be ready for him.

  His lip ring clicked against his teeth as he exclaimed, “I got it! You work at that bar over in the District. Shit, what’s it called? The Sink? The Tub? Man, I can’t remember. All I know is that my buddy, Fernando, fucked you in the bathroom, yeah?”

  “Oh my god,” I sighed with relief. “Yes.”

  “I knew it, Ma.”

  It was surreal.

  It didn’t matter that he’d gone out of his way to threaten my daughter and taunt me through car windows; the same man who’d beaten and brutalized my body four years ago didn’t seem to recognize me when I was standing right in front of him wearing a cheap wig.

  Maybe I was the only one who was forced to relive the events of that night every time I closed my eyes.

  The same fists that had broken my nose and split my lip now fell open in trust as I slipped the straps of my dress down over my arms.

  I carefully watched him from under my lashes as he stumbled back into the armchair beside the bed before I worked the thin material over my breasts.

  A part of me tried to pretend it was Jamie, while the other fought to remind me of why I was here.

  This wasn’t about gratification.

  It was penance.

  The mouth that had once left marks on my flesh fell open in awe as I tugged the dress down to my hips. He impatiently unzipped his jeans and began moving his hand up and down his already hard shaft.

  Ignoring the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach at the sight, I shimmied out of the dress and stood before him in nothing more than heels and lingerie.

  Manny’s gaze trailed over my body appreciatively, and my mind descended into hell, replaying every agonizing moment in slow motion.

  He’d done this; turned me into someone I no longer recognized.

  I kicked off the heels and strode toward him, and he looked up with a drowsy grin, mistaking my rage for lust. “Right here, Ma.” He thrust his hips in the air. “Let’s see if that cunt is as tight as Fernando says it was.”

  Fuck me, doll. I’d be inside this cunt every day if I could.

  The acid in my stomach moved up, burning my throat, and filling my mouth with a bitter taste. I swallowed past it and forced my body down onto the chair, knowing as I straddled his lap that the only thing separating us was a thin scrap of lace.

  I exhaled loudly through my nose when his hand moved beneath the waistband to cup me. My skin was in flames under the weight of his palm, but before I could pull away, his other hand came down like a weight against the back of my neck, guiding my mouth down over his.

  His tongue began its brutal assault on my mouth, rough and unyielding against my lips. My resolve crumbled and I sagged against his chest in defeat. Coming after him had been a mistake; I was too far gone.

  Cry.

  The word echoed so loudly in my head that I could’ve sworn it was being screamed at me through a loudspeaker.

  Cry, and let him break you again.

  Cry.

  Cry.

  Cry.

  “No!” I roared, bucking my head back until I broke the contact between us. In the half a second it took for Manny to realize there was a problem, I’d freed the boning knife from my corset and pressed the tip of the blade against his throat.

  “The fuck?”

  I wanted to scream my name into his face and see the recognition in his eyes before I tore apart his flesh and reminded him of what he’d stolen from me.
>
  My body.

  My child.

  My husband.

  Grief expanded like a lump in my throat, preventing my words from escaping; but I hoped he saw the hatred in my eyes as I sank the blade into the soft flesh underneath his jaw.

  Just like countless times before with beef and poultry, I made my cut, but my hand placement was all wrong, and I ended up dragging the knife backward across his throat.

  As I did, blood began to flow from the wound; nothing like my experience with cutting up a whole chicken. By the time I realized I hadn’t gone deep enough, Manny’s hand was already latching onto my wrist. I had one opportunity, and I’d blown it.

  Blood trailed down the blade and over the fist I had clenched around the handle, shocking me with its warmth. The metallic stench flooded my nostrils just as a drop fell onto my thigh, spreading out like fingers. Agony stole the breath from my lungs, and I no longer saw his blood.

  I saw my own.

  “You fucking cunt,” he roared in my face.

  I barely heard him over the pounding in my head. The back of his hand connected with my cheek, sending me sprawling onto the carpet.

  The pain didn’t even register.

  All of the ugliness I’d tried to keep hidden surfaced; and I felt every bit of it. I watched in horror as the wounds reappeared on my body and the last piece of Jamie spilled out from between my legs.

  I clawed at my throat and wheezed through a shallow breath while Manny circled me, like a lion going in for the kill.

  He snagged my dress from the floor and held it to the wound on his throat before demanding, “Who sent you?”

  When I stayed silent, he went for my hair, yanking the wig so forcefully that I came up off the carpet before it released from my scalp.

  “Holy fuck, Ma. You gotta be the dumbest bitch alive. Needed another taste, huh? I’m gonna get another go at your ass, and then—”

  He latched onto my real hair and began tugging until I was back on my feet beside him. “I’m gonna make you watch as I fuck your girl bloody before slitting her throat. And, unlike you, I know how to work a blade. Nod if you understand.”

  As he jerked my hair violently, making my head bob up and down like a marionette, something inside of me snapped.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, hearing Tony’s voice loud and clear. I brought my hands up to cover Manny’s and instinctively drove the heel of my foot into the side of his knee. He let out a small gasp of surprise before releasing me.

  Time seemed to slow, and I reopened my eyes just as he began pulling away from me.

  All he needed was one good hit to regain the upper hand. One blow to the side of my head, and it wouldn’t matter how much training I had.

  I slipped my right arm around his and covered his hand, effectively caging him under my armpit, before bringing my left hand up to latch onto his forearm.

  Knowing it was my last chance to save my family, I turned suddenly and dropped into a squat, forcing his arm across my body. Keeping both of my hands on his wrist, I used my weight against him and pressed down on his elbow, straining the joints and ligaments until he groaned in pain and began struggling to break free.

  I’d never gone beyond a person’s pain threshold before. Typically, they would’ve tapped my leg, and that would’ve been the end of it. This wasn’t a game, though. If I released my grip now, Manny would fulfill every one of his warped promises.

  With that in mind, I dug my toes into the carpet and sank all of my weight into the move. Eventually, the joints would give. If I was lucky, the bones would snap too; giving me a fighting chance.

  Bits of wood flew through the air as the door was kicked in. The room plunged into darkness as men entered, and I realized that I’d never considered what would happen to my girls if I didn’t succeed.

  I should’ve taken my chances with the gun.

  Manny moaned loudly as I put my weight on his elbow again. If I was going down, I was going to inflict as much pain on him as possible before they took me out.

  A rough hand latched onto my hair, forcing my face up toward the ceiling. “Sorry, sweetheart, but Pres said no witnesses.” He ground up against my backside. “I’d love to take my time with you too.”

  Familiarity pierced the veil of panic as his arm tightened around my throat. I knew that voice. I released my hold on Manny and tried using my stance to free myself from his unforgiving grip.

  He kicked my legs out from under me and lifted me higher until the tips of my toes just grazed the carpet. The sounds of struggle were muffled in my attempt to get oxygen.

  “Michael,” I croaked, clawing blindly at his arm. “Comedian—”

  Instead of going dark, everything became brighter, and I squinted against it, only to see the man I’d been trying to protect glaring back at me.

  “Jesus Christ, Celia,” Jamie growled. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

  At the sound of his voice, moisture pooled between my thighs. Proving that I was beyond saving, it had taken four years and Death himself to make me wet.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grey: 2004

  Comedian relaxed his hold, and Celia stumbled forward on the carpet, coughing violently. My arms instinctively came up to catch her, but she planted her bloody palms against my chest and pushed off.

  “Where is he?” She croaked, scanning the room with eyes that were wild—with rage? Lust?

  I didn’t know.

  It had taken a former stripper turned madam for us to get a lead that finally paid off. Three of her girls had disappeared around the same time she noticed an increase in bikers in the area, and she’d confronted Comedian, convinced my club was behind it.

  The fact that I’d heard about the encroachment from a whore instead of a hang-around hadn’t set well with me. If another club even sneezed in our territory, it was their job to let me know.

  “Answer the fuckin’ question, Celia,” I demanded through clenched teeth. “Why are you here?”

  “Go to hell, Grey.” Her chest heaved up and down with each ragged breath she took, pulling my attention back to her tits. Tits that were covered by nothing more than some see-through lacy shit that pushed them up under her chin.

  Torch sucked air through his teeth at her insult and dropped his gaze down to the stained carpet. Bear scratched an invisible itch on his neck and studied a cheap painting on the wall, clearly waiting for the explosion.

  There was a time when I would’ve demanded she show me respect in front of my men; a time when I would’ve dragged her kicking and screaming back to the clubhouse. As it was, it was taking everything in me not to shed my kutte and wrap it around her as a reminder to anyone stupid enough to look.

  She laid eyes on the gangbanger and with a low growl, stalked over to where my newest patch, Crossbones, held him.

  He looked up at me helplessly. “Pres?”

  What I needed to do and what I wanted to do were miles apart, but I had to stick with my original plan where she was concerned.

  No matter how much it hurt.

  “Couldn’t do it yourself, could you, Ma?” He spit in her face, and I stepped forward, only to be met with Comedian’s arm.

  He appeared to be oblivious to the tension in the room as he watched her with something like admiration before muttering, “Let’s see what she’s got.”

  Crossbones held the prick’s arms back, and Celia drove her knee into his groin with a vicious smirk.

  He doubled over with a quiet grunt before cackling. “You put up more of a fight with Cobra—”

  Something came over her at his words, and she raked her fingernails down the sides of his face with a scream, driving her knee into his gut over and over again, before retrieving a boning knife from the carpet.

  The blade was all wrong for what she was trying to do. It wasn’t effective. She was exerting too much energy and would’ve exhausted herself long before the asshole was close to death.

  If we were ever forced to resort to han
d-to-hand combat, we stuck with trench knives. The brass knuckle handle provided better stability and control.

  Bear met my stare and shook his head ever so slightly, urging me to call it off. Rage flooded my veins, and I nodded. It had gone on long enough. She should’ve been at home with our daughters, not holed up in a shitty motel room like some half-naked hit woman.

  Her hand shook violently as she pressed the blade to the superficial wound at his throat, and I moved toward her. “Celia—”

  “Better listen to your man, Ma. He’s the one in ch—”

  “You stay quiet, and I won’t cut out your tongue,” she forced out through clenched teeth before digging the tip of the blade into his skin. “Good and quiet.”

  I waited for her to finish it, but she stood frozen, the breath bursting in and out of her lungs. Torch’s boot caught the edge of the bed as he moved closer, and she flinched before bringing her elbows in close to her body as if trying to become smaller.

  My men looked to me, and I held up a hand, signaling for them to wait. Her green eyes widened when I moved closer, darting back and forth between the gangbanger and me.

  “Can’t do it, can you?” he taunted. “That’s okay, Ma. I’ll still hold up my end of our agreement.”

  I jumped in surprise when Celia snapped and drove her fist into his jaw with a quick, high-pitched burst of laughter.

  It wasn’t a laugh of amusement, but one of sheer panic. The woman in front of me wasn’t my wife, she was little more than a wounded animal that had been cornered.

  Crossbones’ jaw clenched, and he tightened his grip, only holding himself back on my orders. “Pres?”

  Ignoring everything I knew, I latched onto her upper arms and pulled back, feeling the vibrations of her body beneath my palms. I managed to keep my voice low and even as I said, “I need you to come with me, darlin’.”

  She jerked out of my grasp and angled her chin up at me, proudly displaying a split lip and the beginnings of a bruise forming across her cheek. “You need to leave. I’m in the middle of something.”

  “In the middle of somethin’? Like what? Gettin’ yourself killed? Fuckin’ Christ, Celia!” I ran my hand through my hair, fighting to calm down.