His face dropped. “No!”
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on dying.” I jumped out of the truck. “Wait out back.” I went to close the door, stopping as he said my name. “What?”
“If you die, I’ll go in there guns blazing.”
“Don’t talk shit.”
“I’m not, so you hafta live or you’ll be responsible for my death, too.”
“You li’l shite, you’ll do as you’re fuckin’ told!”
“I ain’t li’l! And you will do as you’re told! Do what you hafta, then get back to me if you want me to live.”
I flicked him the finger, though I also gave him a smile. “If you were a chick, I’d marry you,” I said, half-jokingly, the sonofabitch something else.
A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “I’ll write in Pain’s diary, telling her to start lookin’ for a wedding dress. She’ll have one whipped up in no time.”
I laughed and closed the door, making a cock-sucking motion at him. He wiggled that long tongue of his at me, then shifted into my seat, starting up the engine. Though the smile left his face, worry still clouding his eyes.
Worried too, I headed for Craven’s gate, Killer luckily doing as he was told. Driving off, hopefully to meet me in less than an hour. If I survived this, I could re-establish the barrier between us, because Killer could definitely do a helluva lot better than me.
I pressed the buzzer on the pillar next to Craven’s gate. The massive iron gate parted, letting me through. I headed for the main house, which was down a long driveway. The trees surrounding it reminded me of the entrance to Sierra’s house, the one the gang had had great fun destroying. I’d finally gotten to see what they’d done. They’d smashed some walls out and had spray-painted the remaining ones, gutting the beauty.
Like I wanted to gut Sierra.
The trees cleared, revealing a massive front lawn, with a house that looked straight out of Gone with the Wind, a touch of America in Auckland. I continued forward, heading for the front door. It flung open before I could get a hand to the buzzer. Sierra appeared in front of me, dressed in her requisite white dress, her tits always straining to escape the tight enclosure. A man grabbed her, shoving her behind him. Another suited bruiser appeared alongside him. He had a big nose and long black hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail. I instantly recognised him from the photo Marino had sent me.
The Russian who’d killed Mutt.
For a second I felt bad for insisting that he be here. He had saved Dante’s life, but any guilt went out the window as soon as the bastard sneered at me, his disdain clear as the sky above my head.
“Why did you want me here?” he asked, his Russian accent thick.
“To thank you for saving my son’s life.”
“You could’ve done that over the phone.”
“Then, I wouldn’t get to see you kill the man who carved up your mate.”
The Russian’s expression went stony. “The order said not to touch Reaper, that he’s for your club.”
“I talked my prez into gifting you his life. Don’t cha want the gift?”
His lips stretched wide into a cruel smile. “I do. I’ll be happy to take it. He killed my friend.”
“Good. Now, lemme see Sierra.”
“If you hurt her, I will pull out every one of your teeth, as well as your finger and toenails, before I fuck you up the arse with my knife, and believe me, I will.”
I raised a brow at him, believing him. “I don’t bite the hand that feeds me.”
He looked uncertain, which I didn’t blame him for, especially with what I had planned.
“Boris!” Sierra snapped. “You heard Tane, he’s not going to hurt me, so move.”
Boris remained where he was, his expression still not trusting.
“Craven will kill me and my family if I harm even a hair on Sierra’s head,” I said. “Do ya think I’d risk their lives over a mistake she made,” I added, playing it down. “And my club has already taken their vengeance out on her house, so let her out.”
Boris grunted and stepped aside, though he flicked his jacket open, placing a hand on his holstered gun. I rolled my eyes at him, then gave Sierra a wide, fake smile as she stepped out from behind the bruiser. Her smile was blinding, the chick obviously thinking she was untouchable in her make-believe world.
“So, you’ve truly forgiven me?” she asked.
I nodded, willing my hands to stay by my side, instead of wrapping them around her scrawny neck. “It’s not your fault that stupid bitch of a doctor didn’t know what she wuz doin’.”
“True,” she replied. “Cos I’d never do anything to hurt you, Tane.”
Yeah, right, you lying cunt.
“Of course you wouldn’t.” I gave her another fake-as-shit smile. “Cos who would fuck you if I died?”
She laughed and took a step closer, the vulgar bitch grabbing my crotch. I didn’t move away, didn’t even fucking flinch. I wasn’t about to blow the plan by losing my shit, plus she could wait, karma coming for her. This time a genuine smile lit up my face, the image of blood staining her white hair once more filling my head.
“I’m so happy you pulled through, Tane,” she said, massaging my package. “And even happier you’ve forgiven me. I also don’t blame you for what your crew did to my house. That’s on them, not you.”
I nodded, that part true, though I would’ve picked up a sledgehammer and helped them out if I hadn’t been unconscious at the time. Hell, I would have hired a bulldozer to fuck it up even more. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Though,” she smiled. “I didn’t realise you were bi. I could’ve brought you males as well as females.”
My face dropped. “I’m not bi!” I snapped, smacking her hand off me.
“Oh, not out of the closest yet?” She laughed. “Don’t worry, your manhood is safe. You’re a real stud.” She grabbed my crotch again, giving it a squeeze.
I yanked her hand away, barely keeping it together. “Just take me to what I want, then you can grab my cock to your heart’s content.”
Her bright blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “Not before I get a feel of the goods.”
“You already know what’s in my pants, so business before pleasure.”
“I’m the boss, and I say I want to feel your cock. Now.”
“Not out here.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you telling me what to do, Tane?”
“No, I—”
“Will do as you’re fucking told, unless you don’t want to work for me, which means you won’t get that money I promised you over the phone. So, do you want it or not?”
I nodded, although the only thing I wanted was to kill the bitch.
“Good, and the next time I call you, answer your damn phone. I expect you to be on call twenty-four seven.”
“I wuz already coming over,” I said, clenching my hands, so close, so fucking close to snapping. I breathed out, willing myself to calm down. For Dante.
“It doesn’t matter. When I call, you answer.” She flicked my belt open and unzipped my leather pants, obviously doing it for a power trip. She stuck her hand into my pants, everything in me screaming to kill her as she fondled me in front of her guards.
No doubt sensing my mood, the Russian pulled out his gun. He shook his head at me, clearly aware I was a breath away from snapping. Then the motherfucker licked his lips! My eyes widened, the bastard getting off on my humiliation. Any guilt I had for involving him was now gone with the fucking wind.
Sierra huffed. “You’re soft.”
“That shit happens when people play with my fuckin’ cock without permission,” I snapped. “And tell your bloody guard to stop eye-fucking me.”
She glanced back at Boris, clearly surprised. “You’re bi, too?”
“A hole is a hole,” the Russian replied, still eye-fucking me, “and I’d pay to drill his.”
My eyes widened. “I ain’t no fuckin’ hole!”
; Sierra laughed, the bitch finally letting go of my cock. “Don’t worry, Tane, he can’t afford you.”
I yanked my zip up and quickly did my belt. “No man touches me,” I snapped, glaring at the bastard.
“I heard one man has, so why not one more?” He smiled, displaying a row of bright white teeth. The canines were sharpened to a point, making him look like a vampire.
Sierra laughed again, then pushed past me, heading for the side of the house. Boris indicated with his gun for me to follow her, the other suit already striding after Sierra. I grimaced at Boris and jumped down the steps.
“Nice arse,” he drawled. “Bet it would feel exquisite around my cock.”
I flicked him the finger, wondering whether he was trying to psych me out, rather than genuinely interested in me.
I went to Sierra’s side, sickened to my stomach being near her. We headed around the mansion, aiming for the gun range, a modern-looking concrete building, completely at odds with the old-styled mansion of yesteryear.
“Where’s Craven? I thought he’d be here,” I lied, knowing damn well he was up north. I’d gotten Marino to conjure up a bullshit excuse to draw him away from Auckland. The poor kid had lost his father a couple of weeks ago, Bazza finally succumbing to the brain tumour. I didn’t know how the kid was going to cope with all the pressures of the drug business his father had left behind for him. I also didn’t know how he thought getting into business with Craven was going to help. I just told him to be careful, to make sure he did everything Craven said, or to get the hell out of the country and never look back. Marino said he would do as he was told, that he wasn’t leaving his home for anybody.
The big-nosed Russian pushed past me and Sierra, unlocking the door to the gun range. He pulled it back for Sierra and me to enter, the other bruiser at our backs. A row of chairs was on my right, while on my left was a massive glass barrier. Behind it were three people, each one of them tied to a chair and with gags stuffed into their mouths.
Jonah McDonald.
Reaper.
And Phelia Lamar.
Jonah was glaring at us through the glass, his thick tattooed arms straining against his binds, while Reaper was watching our every move, his tattooed face expressionless, not even a twitch suggesting he was worried. And Phelia... She was crying into her gag, her face red, her afro hair in disarray.
I turned to Sierra. “I’m impressed. You succeeded in catching Reaper where my club and the cops have failed.”
She bounced on her heels, looking pleased with my false compliment.
I held out my hand to her. “Gun.”
She stopped bouncing. “What?”
“You got them for me to kill, didn’t cha?”
“Yeah, but—”
“There are no buts ’bout it, darling. Although Reaper ain’t mine to kill anymore, I’d prefer not to choke the other two. A bullet in their heads will do.”
“Oh.” She turned her blue-eyed gaze on Boris. “Give him your gun.”
He shook his head, probably thinking what I was thinking. That she was a dumb bitch.
“Ken can aim his gun at Tane if you’re so concerned,” she said.
The other bruiser raised his gun, pointing it at my head.
I turned to Boris. “So, you gonna gimme the gun or not?”
“I don’t think—”
“You’re not paid to think,” Sierra snapped. “So, give him your damn gun.”
He hesitated.
“For fuck’s sake, he’s not going to do anything with Ken pointing a gun at his head, and he’s here for the prisoners, not you, so quit being a pussy.”
Looking pissed off, Boris placed the gun in my hand. I closed my fingers around it and headed for the door to the adjoining room, glancing back at the other bruiser. He still had his gun trained on me, his eyes hard, sharper than a sniper ready to take down his target.
Movement caught my attention. I looked over at Boris. He was leaning down, removing a knife from his ankle. He straightened, his eyes flicking to Reaper. Reaper was glaring at him through the glass, giving him a straight-up You’re dead, motherfucker look.
Boris smiled. “I’m gonna enjoy fucking his arse with my,” he licked the knife, not needing to say more.
“You’re one sick motherfucker,” I said, pushing the door open to the gun range.
Sierra followed me inside, the clack of her stilettos sounding loud in the confined space. The bruisers trailed us like shadows, no doubt Ken’s gun still pointed at my head. But I didn’t give a shit about it, because my full attention was on Reaper, the skeletal freak now looking at me. I imagined planting a bullet between his cold blue eyes, or maybe in them. The dark ink surrounding the soulless pits looked like much better targets than the bullseyes on the far wall. Though there was no way I’d kill him. He was here for one reason—and one reason alone.
Insurance.
Plus, the cunning bastard had backed himself up. Two of his brothers were at Dante’s hospital, waiting in the wings to kill my boy if Reaper didn’t make it out alive. Which was why I had a few of my own crew there, just in case things didn’t go according to plan.
Reaper’s gaze shifted back to Boris. The Russian was inching closer to Reaper, getting ready to take the carrot I’d dangled in front of him. Reaper bared his teeth, his expression completely fearless. Even tied up, he looked more like the predator than Boris, his eyes tracking his prey.
Before Boris could do anything, I whipped my hand up and shot his partner in the forehead, my aim fucking brilliant, my speed and reflexes even better. Ken dropped instantly. Before anyone could react, I swung the gun around to Boris. He looked stunned, everything happening whiplash fast. Then Sierra started screaming. That seemed to spark the Russian. He raised his knife, but not quick enough. I shot him in the hand, causing him to drop it. He yelled out and scrambled for the knife as it clattered to the floor. I shot his other hand, having no intention of killing him. He was a gift to Reaper, not the other way around.
Sierra continued screaming, like one of those dumb blondes in a horror movie who’d run up the staircase instead of to safety.
I picked up the dead man’s gun, barking at her, “Get on the ground with your men!”
She finally stopped screaming. “Tane—”
“Now!”
She rushed over to Boris, dropping down next to him. “Tane—”
“Shut your mouth!” I yelled, making her jolt. “You have no goddamn right to speak to me, you fuckin’ cunt.”
Pure terror filled her eyes. “I was willing to give you everything, yet you betray me?”
“You almost got me killed,” I spat, glaring down at her.
“Penny said the drug was safe, and my uncle—”
I cut her off. “You drugged me, then used me for your fucked-up venture. You think I wuz gonna let that fly just cos of who your fuckin’ uncle is?”
“He’ll kill you, he’ll kill your son too.”
“I have two sons!” I bellowed, lowering the gun to her head. “But I guess you only know ’bout my youngest.”
She blanched and crab crawled backwards, bumping into the dead man. She screamed and quickly moved away from him.
I followed her. “What kind of sick bitch fucks a fifteen-year-old?”
She stopped in her tracks, her eyes bulging. “Dante’s fifteen?! He told me he was eighteen.”
I spat on her, making her squeal. “I don’t fuckin’ care what he told you, you whored my kid!”
“No, I didn’t. Camie and I only went with him once,” she babbled. “And it’s not our fault he lied.”
I gritted my teeth, this close, this fucking close to filling her full of lead. “I can’t trust anything you say, you lying piece of shit. You absolutely disgust me. Do ya have some sort of warped fetish for fathers and sons?”
“I had no clue you were related to him.”
“Then how the fuck did’ja know his name, cos I never fuckin’ told you it?”
Her face paled
further.
I sneered at her. “Yeah, you fuckin’ knew, all right. That’s why you commented on my eyes. Dante has my eyes.”
She didn’t reply, finally finished with spouting her lies.
“Do ya know what that makes you? A filthy fuckin’ paedo, just like your girly-sounding mate.” A nasty smile pulled at my lips. “By the way, Camie got blood on my glove when I made her blow my gun. Guess I wuzn’t shooting blanks.” I laughed and lowered my hand so she could see the blood.
Sierra’s eyes widened. Then she screamed and went for me. I kicked her back to the floor, her outburst pathetic.
“My mate also took care of the bitch who shot me full of drugs. Fabian gave her a dose of her own medicine. It’ll look like an overdose to the cops.”
Sierra began to sob, knowing she was dead meat.
I looked over at Reaper, who was now grinning behind his gag, enjoying the show. I stuffed one of the guns into the back of my leather pants and swiped up the knife the Russian had dropped, the man in too much agony to hold it. He probably also knew I’d shoot him if he even tried.
Keeping one eye on him, I walked around the chairs to cut Reaper free, but took a rapid step backwards. His hands were already untied, the freak only pretending to be restrained. He dropped the rope he’d been holding onto and yanked the gag out of his mouth, then bent down and undid the knots around his ankles, the Houdini getting out of them in no time.
“Holy fuck,” I said, impressed.
Without a word, he rose up from his seat and held his hand out for the knife, standing so fucking tall he even towered over me, and I was over six foot. Not willing to get close to him, I tossed the knife onto his chair. It bounced off it, falling to the floor.
With a chilling smile, he swiped the knife up and walked over to the Russian, cutting Boris’s hamstrings. Screaming in agony, Boris tried to drag himself away, creating a snail trail of blood. Following slowly, Reaper started talking to him in Russian. I had no clue he could even speak the lingo since he was of Irish descent, though it didn’t surprise me, considering he’d travelled a lot with the defence force.
He kicked Boris onto his back and placed a foot on each hand, ripping out another scream from the Russian. Bending down, Reaper tore the poor bastard’s shirt open and started carving something into his chest. I grimaced, Boris’s agonised yells filling the gun range.
Jagged Pill (Broken Lives Book 3) Page 24
