Rooney's Pain (Ruthless Rejects, 2)

by Jenika Snow

  However, when it came to Bryn, this asshole hadn’t fought fairly and now it was time to even the score, or better yet, I was going to win.

  “You sure about this?” Venom asked. “You’re going to take your time with him.”

  “Why not? If we hadn’t come up with that plan, we wouldn’t be standing here now. I’m going to let this fucker have a taste of his own medicine. It’s the least I can do.” I walked back to Vincenzo and watched him tense up. He clearly didn’t like me being close to him, but that was okay. I could handle that.

  Gripping his face hard, I glared at him. “You hurt my woman.”

  “I never put my hands on her.”

  “You got someone else to do your dirty work. I’m going to make you wish that you’d never heard my name. No one will remember you.” With that, I landed the first blow to his stomach.

  His body, his flesh, became my blank canvas, and I started to make him bruise and bleed. Of course, I wouldn’t get to see the bruises unless I kept him alive. And I had no intention of doing that. Seeing him bleed, though, while I was already covered in Ted’s blood didn’t seem that bad to me.

  When my arms started to grow tired, all it took was pictures of Bryn, the memory of her chained up, being hurt, and I was able to shake off the fatigue and continue beating the shit out of him.

  The moment the satisfaction subsided and he went limp, I went for his pretty-boy face. Smashing his nose, I watched it break and saw blood pour from it.

  His screams were nothing more than an echo around the room, and I took a great deal of pleasure in hearing them. This was what I’d been working toward. What I wanted to hear.

  With his face a mess, teeth smashed in, no recognition of what he looked like before, I removed the knuckles and stepped back.

  I was panting for breath, worked up from fucking him over.

  Venom looked bored as he held up a scalpel for me to work with. I shook my head and instead went for the baseball bat.

  I’d heard Vincenzo liked to use bats once he’d beaten men or women down to the ground and there was no way for them to defend themselves.

  Dragging a stool toward his feet, I helped him stand on it and smiled.

  Staring at him now, he no longer looked like the powerful little lord he thought he was.

  Drawing the bat over my head, I brought it down on his feet, giving it all my strength, and in return I heard the smashing of bone.

  I did the same to the next one, whistling as I did.

  Once his feet were broken, I started on his legs. The chains barely held him up, and at this point, he’d passed out.

  The guys had been drinking now, so we had another bucket of piss to throw at him.

  I did that and waited for him to wake up.

  The hours passed and along with it, my need for blood, for pain, and to hear his screams subsided.

  Staring at him for a long moment, I knew I’d made him pay for everything he’d done to Bryn and to the club.

  Grabbing the scalpel off Venom, I walked back to him, held his head, and jammed it into his throat, watching the life finally fade away. I made sure to look him in the eyes, so he knew without a shadow of a doubt I’d won.

  His death belonged to me.

  His pain was all on me.

  I loved it.

  This was what made me a monster, because no matter how much blood I spilled, how much pain I caused, I relished it.

  The only thing I loved more than this feeling was Bryn.

  A better man would walk away, allow her to find someone else.

  I wasn’t a better man. I was a monster, and I was going to keep her all to myself.

  Chapter Thirty

  Brynleigh

  I was sitting on the edge of the bed, my hands braced on the sides of the mattress, when the bedroom door swung open. I looked up to see Rooney standing there, his head downcast, the shadows playing over him.

  I’d only kept the bedside lamp on, the soft glow not filling up the room completely. But there was no way I could mistake the blood covering him.

  “Rooney? Are you okay?” I knew that wasn’t his blood.

  He lifted his head and looked at me momentarily, and I could see this void expression on his face. I swallowed, feeling a little bit nervous at the man who stood before me.

  He was distant, this cold air surrounding him. I knew what he had done, whose blood covered him. And although I should have been terrified, all I felt was relieved.

  Rooney had killed Vincenzo, taken out the man who had hurt me. He had protected me. And I loved him even more for it.

  “Rooney?” I said his name again.

  He walked past me and into the bathroom, closing the door slightly but leaving just a crack big enough I could still see him. He turned the light on, the fluorescent glow seeming overly bright.

  I heard shuffling, saw him removing his clothing. And then the shower kicked on. I pushed myself off the bed, standing and catching my breath, the pain in my side having my eyes watering. I hadn’t taken any more pain meds, not liking the way they made me feel. I could push through this and handle it on my own.

  I walked up to the bathroom and braced my hand on the doorframe. For a moment I just stood there, hearing the shower run, feeling the heat and humidity from inside the room start to seep through the crack and cover me.

  I placed my palm flat on the door and gently pushed it open. His clothes were on the floor, giving a little bit of resistance so it was hard to open it fully. I looked down at those items, the blood-splattered articles having my throat tighten.

  Death. That’s what I was staring at.

  I looked at the shower, the curtain transparent yet frosted. I could see his outline, his big body as he washed off the gore and violence. My heart was pounding fast and hard as I thought about what he had done tonight, how he’d protected me, his club.

  What I was about to do probably wasn’t smart given my wound, but I found myself slipping out of my clothes, gripping the shower curtain to pull it aside, and stepping into the tub.

  He turned around, water washing over his big body, his short dark hair plastered on his head. I could see this darkness covering him, this tightness in his face. His body was tense, his muscles strained underneath his tattooed skin.

  “Bryn, baby, what are you doing?” He lifted his hand and rubbed his face, pushing the water away from his eyes. He took a step toward me, the shower now beating down his back.

  I hadn’t said anything yet. He lifted his hands and cupped my face, smoothing his thumbs over my cheekbones. Then he lowered his gaze down my naked body and stopped at the dressing covering my wound.

  “You should be resting. You got shot, you should be resting and getting better.” He looked up at me and I could see this pain in his eyes, one that told me what he’d done tonight had affected him in some way.

  Rooney was a strong man, and I knew that killing someone was an everyday kind of thing for him, something he did in order to protect the ones he loved. But surely that had to take a toll on a person?

  I lifted my arms and wound them around his neck, pulling him closer so our bodies were flush together. He dipped his head and rested it in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply.

  I closed my eyes and just let his body heat seep into me, let the feeling of having Rooney here with me make me complete. I slid my hands down his back, feeling his muscles contract and relax.

  There was so much I wanted to tell him, so much that needed to be said. We had wasted so much time, had so many obstacles in our path. But we didn’t have that anymore. We’d overcome it all and were standing on the other side.

  I pulled back and I was the one to cup his cheeks now. I stared into his eyes, the scruff on his cheeks and jaw gently scraping my palms. My throat felt tight, my tongue thick.

  The words I wanted to say were poised right on the tip, and I knew that life wasn’t a guarantee. I needed to treat every day like it was my last. Because for all I knew it was.

  “Rooney
, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long that it’s all I’ve ever known.” I watched as his throat worked as he swallowed. I knew my words were affecting him. And that’s exactly what I wanted.

  I wanted him to feel loved, to know he was mine just as I was his.

  “I want you in my life, no matter what. I don’t care if you lead a dangerous existence, or that violence is in your blood. When I’m with you I feel whole. All these years I’ve longed for, ached for one thing, and that was you.” I smiled and rose up on my toes to kiss him, pushing past the pain in my side. Nothing else mattered but being with Rooney.

  He kissed me back, but pulled away far too soon. He turned and shut off the water, pulled the shower curtain aside, and grabbed a towel. He dried me off gently, wrapping the cloth around me so I stayed warm. Then he grabbed another one for himself and dried off.

  Before I knew what was happening, he was leading me back into the bedroom and helping me onto the bed, pulling the covers over me. I wanted to protest, to say I needed him, but before I could he was sliding in next to me, pulling me close to his body, and just holding me.

  “I love you, Bryn,” he said against my hair and I closed my eyes, taking his hand and putting it right over my heart.

  “It’s you and me against the world, Bryn.”

  “I know, baby. I know.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Crank

  Staring at the bottle in my hand, I twirled it around. I’d already peeled the label off, condensation dripping down the dark glass. I didn’t even know why I was drinking the fucking thing. I’d always hated the taste of beer. I was more of a whiskey man. I loved the burn, but beer, it helped to numb the senses and right now, they needed to be fucking buried into oblivion.

  I thought back to the night I had watched Rooney kill the traitor and that Vincenzo bastard. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it had made my stomach turn with how brutal it had been.

  “You okay?” Venom asked, coming to sit with me.

  Glancing around at the clubhouse, seeing some of the guys fucking random chicks, it all seemed … normal.

  After the past couple of days, I didn’t think I could handle normal. For a short time, I thought I’d lost my Prez, then I wanted Rooney’s blood, and now, they were both alive and it had all been some fucking plot I wasn’t part of.

  Yeah, that part pissed me off the most. The fact they couldn’t even include me and I was the VP. Of course, I knew it was all because of Ted, and just thinking about that bastard, I wanted a chance at him, wanted to kill him all over again. However, that had come down to Venom and Rooney, and from what I saw, they had taken care of him.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Really? It looks like someone has asked you to sniff an asshole or something.”

  I burst out laughing. It was rare for Venom to laugh or joke about anything. Unless it was with Rebekah. The past few months I’d seen the change in him. It’s amazing what a good woman could do for a man.

  I clenched my jaw and breathed out slowly as I thought about women and relationships.

  I didn’t want to think about her, so I finished my beer and put the bottle on the table. One of the club whores would clean up right away.

  Tapping my leg, I shook my head. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Hey, it was nothing personal. Rooney needed an out and I needed to find the rat.”

  “I get it, Venom. I do. You got to understand for a short time, I thought you were dead and that fucked with my head. You’re my brother.” I slapped him on the back. “I’m your VP. I thought I’d fucked up.” I snorted. “I did fuck up. Not once did I think Ted would betray us.”

  “Yeah, well, greed and power will do that to you.” Venom finished his drink. “I’m going to go and see my woman.”

  “Rebekah’s turning out to be the right woman for you?”

  “She is. I never thought I’d turn into a one-woman man, but here I stand.”

  “Hell has frozen over,” I joked.

  Venom clapped my back. “Rather have cold balls than fried ones. Don’t be gone too long.” Another two slaps to the back, and we separated.

  Apparently, that was the end of that. I exhaled and ran a hand over the back of my head.

  Heading out to the parking lot, I saw a couple of girls deep throating the prospects. Even they were getting some action. In all my years as VP, I’d come to see there were two types of women. The ones who fucked for a title, and the ones who earned your love.

  Most of the women I’d fucked just wanted to be a biker’s bitch. They didn’t care who claimed them, only that they did. They were all willing to do anything. To be every single guy’s wet dream.

  In the early years, I was more than happy to take them up on their offer. To fuck them in whatever hole they wanted. To go ass to mouth and back again. Dirty shit.

  As with all things, it got old really fucking quickly.

  Maybe I was the one getting old.

  I watched the girls jump from bed to bed, and I guess it was witnessing Rebekah and Venom. They started something in my head that I couldn’t seem to shake, and it unnerved me. I’d been the kind of guy happy to not have a woman on my arm, begging for attention.

  Only, I’d seen that look of contentment on Venom’s face. I’d seen it on Rooney’s. None of the easy pussy appealed to either of them. Their women looked at them, no other man. Rebekah especially, as I hadn’t seen much of Rooney’s woman.

  Straddling my bike, I pulled out of the parking lot and headed back toward town, to where my house was. It was one of those nice, up and coming estates that had the happy families up and down the streets.

  It wasn’t me, yet here I was.

  Pulling into my driveway, I smirked as my neighbor called her twin five-year-olds toward her as if I was some kind of criminal.

  Yes, I was a criminal. I’d killed people for sport and I loved it, but I’d never hurt kids.

  “Don’t worry about her acting all uppity. She acts all scared but Mrs. Bridge wants to sleep with you.”

  I turned to see Tamara on the edge of the porch railing. Her legs were crossed and her hair was pulled down across one shoulder. She swayed her crossed legs in front of her.

  Tamara was eighteen years old, still in high school, for fuck’s sake. But the past summer, she’d been stopping by my house. Every time I looked at her, I had to remember she was too young. But it was the pain in her eyes that always took my breath away.

  “I’m sure her husband would have a problem with that,” I said.

  She laughed. “Please, he’d have a problem but he’s too much of a pussy to do anything about it.”

  “What are you doing hanging out here? Shouldn’t you be spending time with your friends?” I asked.

  A shadow fell across her face. “I don’t have friends.”

  This right here. I felt like I was missing something, something big and important.

  “Tamara, get in the fucking house.”

  I watched as she tensed up. She gritted her teeth as she looked over her shoulder.

  Her face had lost its rosy complexion. She looked almost defeated, broken.

  “I’ll see you around,” she said. Instead of jumping back into her own front yard, she dropped down into mine, running her fingers through her hair. It looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she gave me a wave and turned to leave.

  Why did I feel the need to wrap her in my arms and tell her it was going to be okay?

  She’s jailbait.

  I shouldn’t care about Tamara, and yet as I watched her ass sway as she walked away, I knew deep down … I was fucked.

  Epilogue

  Brynleigh

  I felt like I was home, as if the past situations had never even happened. It was kind of crazy, maybe unrealistic to feel that way, but as I looked around the back property of the MC, everyone laughing and having a good time, spending time with each other, all I could do was smile.

  I sat at the picnic table with an empty b
eer bottle in front of me. I could see Venom and Rooney up by the grill, their smiles contagious.

  Everything felt so ... normal and right.

  How crazy to think just weeks ago all that shit had gone down. To think that our lives had been hanging by a thread, yet here we were, alive, living.

  We weren’t letting the past dictate us.

  My gunshot wound was still healing, but every time I looked at that scar, knowing how I’d gotten it, that I hadn’t died because of it, made me appreciate life and what I had even more.

  It made me stronger.

  I grabbed my bottle and stood, walking toward the trashcan that was over by the coolers and kegs. After tossing the beer in the recycle bin, I reached out for a bottle of water. It was far too hot to be drinking beer, for me at least. I opened the water and downed half the bottle faster than I anticipated, the coldness giving me an instant headache.

  I closed my eyes and winced, lifting my hand and rubbing my temple.

  “You okay, baby?”

  I opened my eyes, startled.

  Rooney was in front of me before I had even seen him move, the concern on his face clear. I couldn’t help but chuckle at how protective he was of me. He’d been like that before everything had gone down with Vincenzo, but after the fact it was like he was protective and possessive to the nth degree.

  But it was endearing, and I couldn’t deny that I wasn’t the same way when it came to him. I worried every time he left, hoping it wasn’t the last time I saw him. I hated feeling like that, but this was the life I’d accepted.

  The MC life was my world now. It was part of me.

  I smiled, rising up on my toes to give him a kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. “I’m fine,” I said against his mouth, his lips soft, the scent of the beer he’d been drinking lingering on his breath. “I just have a headache from this heat and beer.”

  Before I could say anything, he had his hand in mine and was pulling me toward the clubhouse.