We speed towards the house. Tony, Sam, and the others are behind us in another car. I’m not waiting for them. She will kill him, but she will make it hurt. It’s time this bitch dies. I’m tired of her ghost hurting him.
Only I get to do that.
The farther we head from the city, the quieter the roads get. Diesel passes over more weapons they had in the car, and his fanny pack is back on, but this time, it has a happy, fiery sun. Seriously, does he collect them or something?
I’m going to need to investigate that shit as soon as we get back, because it’s so weird seeing this big, bad, crazy, beautiful man…with a sparkling fanny pack. It’s also weirdly hot. I don’t ask what’s in it this time though.
“Diesel, you go left, I go right. The others are going through the backdoor. Love?” Ryder glances over at me as he drives, his hand grabbing mine for a second and squeezing. “I need you to get my brother out. He will be somewhere on the second floor.”
I suck in a breath, knowing he’s trusting me to do that, but I nod and grip the bat between my legs tighter. “That bitch is mine.”
He grins and looks back at the road. It’s long and winding as we head through the hill to the lit up mansion on top. From here I can see the glass balconies surrounding the white, two-story building. It’s a nice fucking house, too bad it will be gone by the end of tonight.
We pull up behind the gate and get out, all the guards strapped to the teeth. But when another car pulls up, we all point our guns and wait, the headlights blinding us slightly until the driver’s side door opens and Kenzo tumbles out.
He grins at us. “Didn’t think you could leave me behind, did you?” He laughs as he walks towards us. His chest is covered in a vest, but he’s leaning slightly to one side.
“No, go home, brother,” Ryder barks. “You are hurt.”
He rolls his eyes as he reaches us, kissing me hard. “Hey, darling. Didn’t think I would let you have all the fun, did you?”
“Kenzo—” Ryder starts, but Kenzo snarls at him.
“He’s my brother too. I’m here, I’m not going home, and neither would you. We do this together. Every minute we waste, he could be dying, so for once, just shut the fuck up and listen to me,” Kenzo snaps before softening. “I’ll be fine, the doc gave me something for the pain that will keep my muscles lose and won’t tear my stitches until I do something stupid.”
“Fuck!” Ryder yells, but turns to look at the house, knowing he’s right. “Fine, but you stick close to me,” he demands.
“Got it, brother.” Kenzo looks down at me and winks. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten our bet. Doc said you even cried, how cute. I knew you loved me.”
“I did not fucking cry, there was dust. I still hate your guts,” I snarl, even as I lift up on my tiptoes and kiss him hard. “Do not do anything stupid.”
I turn to Ryder and grab his shirt and drag him to me, kissing him too. He groans into my mouth as I pull away panting, then I’m spun and dipped, and Diesel kisses me. “Later, Little Bird,” he promises, as he lets me up.
My heart is hammering and arousal flows through me, but now is not the time. I have a man to rescue, and I’m going to call him Princess Garrett for the rest of our days. He can call me his white knight.
I’m still in my dress, but Ryder fastens a vest over me, his vest, without a word, and then we head towards the gate. We don’t sneak through or buzz, Diesel blows the fucker up, laughing to himself the whole time. I swear, I get why people are terrified of him, but when I look at him, all I want to do is ride that crazy train.
Literally ride him.
But like he said, later.
It does the trick though. Guards stream from the house, and we pick them off as we advance down the driveway, me behind a line of men, playing it smart. The front door is open, the blood of the now deceased guards lining the steps as we head into the hallway. I take a quick glance around. It’s a nice house, all white walls and marble floors, with a grand staircase on the left, art on the walls, and big, decorative chandeliers. It screams money, and you can see the Asian accents dotted around here and there. It really is beautiful, what a shame.
I wait for the guys to break up, and Ryder looks back at me and nods. I press my bat to my shoulder, holding my gun in my other hand as I suck in a deep breath, and as the bullets fly, I run to the stairs. I have no time to waste, they could kill him if they hear us coming. I can’t let that happen, they are all expecting it from me, he’s expecting it.
They only die if I kill them.
I take the stairs two at a time, ducking when an explosion goes off, until I’m standing on the landing. It opens into a living room, and there is only one hallway off of it. He has to be down there. Hurrying across the living room, I press against the wall as a shot comes from the hallway, aimed right at me. Fucking bastard.
Gripping my gun, I duck around the corner and fire. I hear someone cry out, but the hallway is almost too dark to see down. Rushing down it, I almost stumble over the man clutching his arm. Taking him by surprise, I swing the bat, bringing it down on his leg. I hear the crunch as it gives in, so I swing back again, hitting it from the other direction, and he crumples to the floor, his leg bent in two places. He’s passed out, but I can’t let him sneak up on me, so I grab his gun and shoot him before moving on.
Come on, Garrett, where the fuck are you?
The gun fire from below seems to get quieter and quieter the longer I wind down the hallway until I’m alone. Fuck, when this is through, I need to go on a vacation and ride lots of dick…and have orgasms. Lots and a lots of orgasms.
I want to feel like I’m dying from them. Stupid Vipers and their stupid enemies getting in the way of my dick plans. There’s a door to the left and, remembering what I saw in films, I put my back to the wall and hum the Mission: Impossible theme song. I swing it open and jump in. It’s empty, and it feels kinda anticlimactic, but I slip out and to the next door. There are only three. This one opens into an empty bathroom, so I suck in a breath and approach the one at the end.
This has to be it.
Is he behind this door? Fuck, let him be okay. I ain’t the praying type, but right now, I’m praying to anyone who will listen, God and Satan, ’cause let’s face it, if anyone is gonna have our backs, it’s probably my dude Satan.
Reaching out, I grab the silver handle and steady myself for whatever I might find on the other side. When I swing it open, I have a split second to take in the room, and when I do, my anger surges through me again.
This fucking bitch.
She is poised over him, straddling his lap, his body bare and covered in blood from various wounds. His hands and feet are chained, and she has a knife aimed at his slick, bloody chest.
His face is twisted in a terrified snarl, his eyes wild and wide. I can feel his anger, pain, and terror from here, and see the ghosts circling him. In that split second, I hate her more than I have ever hated anyone.
Not because he used to love her and she betrayed him, but because of the pain I know he will have to live with again after this. The hate fills me, my movements jerky, and I must make a noise because she starts to turn towards me.
I’ve never wanted to hurt someone so much before, to feel them bleed, to hear their screams and know they are suffering as much as they made him. But for her, it’s an expectation. I get it now. Why Diesel does it, why Garrett fights. I need that too.
I need this bitch to suffer.
Striding across the room as her head lifts, I watch as her eyes widen and her mouth drops open. I swing my bat, gaining momentum until I’m next to her, and then I smash it across her face.
She flies from the bed, and I scramble after her, landing above her on the carpet. She screams, grabbing for her fallen knife, and I drop the bat, smashing my fists into her face again and again.
“He’s fucking mine, you cock sucking, son of a bitch, psychotic cunt.” I can hear words leaving my mouth, but all I see is the horror and pain twisting Garrett’s face, the knife covered in his blood, the grin on her lips.
Blood bubbles from her lips as she gasps and struggles beneath me. “Wait!” she calls, her voice choked, but I can’t hear her. All I see is the blood on her, Garrett’s blood. More words tumble from my lips as I smash my fists into her face over and over. I feel my knuckles crack, my own blood joining hers and Garrett’s, but the pain of it only adds to my hate.
I can’t stop.
Her nose breaks, the sound loud, and her lips burst like ripe fruit. Her head thrashes from side to side with my blows. Her face is caving in, her eye dulling as I kill her. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough. When I physically can’t hit anymore, I drop my hands to her chest, panting heavily and looking at the bloody pulp which was once a woman.
My own hands are slick with her blood, and I know some is Garrett’s. With a pained scream, I bring my fist back and smash it into her face again, my arms sore and aching like I’m lifting weights.
Breathing rapidly, I fall to the side and crawl along the floor to the bed before I stumble back to my feet. Ignoring her unmoving, bloody body, I rush over to Garrett, who is thrashing and yelling in the chains. His eyes are wild, his chest heaving, his blood covering the bed.
He can’t see me.
He’s seeing her, lost in his own memories and panic. Fuck.
But I have to try, I have to get him to see me, so I climb up next to him and yank on the chains, trying to free him, knowing better than to touch him right now, but she must have the key. He stops moving, and I look down into those eyes, those damaged, pained eyes, and I can’t help it. Tears slip down my cheeks as I cup his face with blood-stained hands. “I’m here, big guy, she can’t hurt you again,” I whisper, before choking on a sob. I slide my hands back into the chains, slipping with my blood-covered, clumsy fingers, but I manage to finally undo one.
It was a mistake.
I don’t see him coming, and he doesn’t see me—no, he sees her. His hand darts out and circles my throat, squeezing hard, cutting off my air supply. My eyes widen as my hand comes up to claw at his before I stop myself, that won’t help. Instead, I relax into his touch, even as my lungs scream for air.
See me, big guy, please, feel me. See me. Come back to me.
I beg him wordlessly as I relax into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut as everything starts to go dark. If I die here, at his hands, then so be it. But I know that will kill him, more than she ever could, so I fight, hanging on as long as I can, having hope that he isn’t too far gone.
That he can chase those demons away and come back to me.
Please, come back to me.
“Baby?” he croaks, his words pained, and my eyes snap open.
His mouth drops open, his eyes blinking rapidly, and I know it’s him. He looks down at his hand and yells, jerking it away. I fall forward, weak, sucking in desperate breaths. I hear him tugging on his chains, no doubt to get to me. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I croak, and I feel him freeze next to me.
“Baby, God, I’m sorry. Fuck, God, I’m so sorry—” I lift my head, hearing the pain in his voice and seeing the tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t see you, I couldn’t, I swear, I thought it was her, I thought it was her,” he sobs, big racking ones that shake his entire body, and no matter how tired, how weak I’m feeling, I drag my ass over to him and lay against his chest, pressing my forehead to his as I cup his cheeks and wipe away his tears.
“I know, shush, I’m here. I’m sorry I didn’t get here quicker, but she will never hurt you again, I promise. God, babe, I’m sorry,” I whisper, my own tears dropping onto his face.
Just two broken souls meeting in a blood-stained bedroom, both lost until we are in each other’s arms. His pain is mine, and right now, I wish I could take it all away. Drain it from him. I want my cruel, mean asshole back, the one afraid of nothing, but right now, he needs to be weak.
He needs me to hold him while he’s vulnerable so he can be that man again, so he can find his way back. So even though I know we need to move, I hold him, kissing across his face. “It’s okay, I’m here, she’s gone.” I just keep repeating it.
“Baby?” he croaks eventually, and I look back at those eyes. “I hate you,” he whispers, a small smile covering his trembling lips.
“I hate you too,” I whisper, as I lean down and kiss him softly. “We better get going, big guy, that okay?”
He nods and sucks in a breath, seeming to regain control of himself a bit. “Yeah, are the others here?” he asks, clearing his throat.
“Downstairs,” I say, as I sit up and undo his other hand before crawling down the bed and unfastening his feet. Once he’s free, he tries to sit up but collapses back, no doubt from blood loss and shock. I help prop him up. “Take your time.”
“Where is she?” he snarls, and I point over the edge of the bed.
“Dead, sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” I shrug, knowing he probably wanted to do the honours.
“Good,” he snaps, and sucks in a breath, scooting to the edge of the bed. I get to my feet, holding my arms out in case he falls as he grabs the bed and hoists himself up, wincing in agony.
“We just gotta get downstairs, big guy, then we’re going home,” I assure him, and he looks at me and gives me a fucking heartbreaking smile.
“Wherever you are is home,” he whispers.
“Yeah, you’ve lost too much blood, you’ll hate yourself for that later,” I tease. “But don’t worry, I’ll remind you that you said that when you’re calling me a brat again.”
He snorts and then groans in pain, his arm covering his chest. He has small knife marks and puncture wounds everywhere, too many to count, which is probably why there’s so much blood. He’s also naked, so I hurry away until I find some sweats and then kneel at his feet. “Use my head, let me help you,” I offer, as I hold them there.
He grips my hair, lifting one foot after the other, as I tug the sweats on before I get to my knees and pull them all the way up, covering him. I can’t ask if she hurt him that way, not yet, but if he wants to talk about it, I’m here. I won’t pressure him. I’m just so fucking glad he’s alive.
Getting to my feet, I wrap his arm around my shoulders, and we lumber from the room. He manages to hold some of his weight, but the farther we walk, the harder he’s leaning into me. It’s slow going, and when we hit the stairs, I can’t hear any more fighting. Each step is agony for him, and I have to grit my teeth at the pressure on my body.
By the time we reach the bottom, we’re both panting and covered in sweat. I manoeuvre him around the bodies, making sure none are my guys. I spot Sam in the corner and freeze for a second. His eyes are empty and unseeing, his face pale, his gun on the floor next to him like he dropped it, and there’s a hole in his chest.
Swallowing hard, I turn away, knowing I need to get Garrett free. The guys will meet me out there, I know it. They have to. We head through the front door and up the driveway, each step slower than the last, until I’m grunting, holding nearly all his weight. “Come on, big guy, stay fucking with me, okay? Not much farther.”
“Love you, baby,” he slurs, and I look up to see his face is pale and way too much blood is dripping from his chest.
“Oh no you fucking don’t, hold on!” I demand, and he snorts again.
“So bossy,” he murmurs.
“You know it, so fucking listen to me for once, you wanker.” I drag him as far as I can, just passing the gate, when I hear a noise and glance back.
As I hold Garrett against me, I see Ryder striding towards us. He slips his head under Garrett’s other shoulder and helps me. Kenzo isn’t far behind, but he’s holding his stomach and wincing, otherwise he seems okay.
“Where’s D?” I ask in concern, just as I see him stroll from the house with a cigarette in his mouth. He waves at me casually before flicking it back at the house and running towards us.
It takes all of three seconds.
The house explodes.
