“Put me down!” Wildcat screamed. “LONDON!”
The sound was swallowed by the thud of fading steps.
My brother’s brow furrowed as he took a step toward the basement door, until I blocked his way.
“Uh uh,” I shook my head and met that threatening glare. “This is inevitable, you know that.”
Anger shifted to concern in his eyes. The flare of his jaw told me more than words ever could, and for the first time in our life together, I didn’t know what to say. So in the end, I turned back to what I knew, what kept us moving and soothed the rage. “We need to get going. You up for this?”
He just stared at the closed basement door as we listened to her screams fade until they suddenly ended as the room door closed with a faint thunk.
“Hey.” I softly slapped his cheek, drawing his focus. “I said, are you up for this?”
He jerked those blue eyes toward me. His hard breath told me he wasn’t, but he nodded, because that’s what he did…he went wherever I went and he battled the demons for me—the faint whirr of a motor drifted up to us—and right now, I wanted out of here.
I headed for the garage. Three heartbeats later, he followed as I climbed into the Explorer and started the engine. The door closed with a thud and a heavy silence filled the space as we left. I caught the shift of his gaze to the side mirror and knew instantly what he was thinking.
“He won’t hurt her,” I assured him as I shifted gears. “The man is…” Obsessed, I wanted to say, but even that was too small a word for what London was with that female.
Consumed.
Controlled, maybe?
Owned. That was closer to the mark.
Pathetic and pointless, if you asked me.
A tremor cut across my chest as I glanced at my brother. I shifted my gaze to the rear-view mirror, but it wasn’t to the house. It was to the quiet street behind us. One that was normally busy mid-afternoon, before I turned the corner and I realized I didn’t have to say anything at all. Because he wasn’t fucking listening to a word I said.
“Fine.” I grumbled. “I’ll just talk to myself.”
His deep blue eyes found me, broodier and darker than ever before, saying everything and nothing at the same time. I met that glare, then turned back to the road and for the millionth fucking time, that nagging thought slipped into my head. Were they the eyes of our mother? Or were they, at this moment, staring from the faceless man who’d sired us?
I’d always imagined Colt’s blue eyes were hers, careful, deep, with one look you just knew they were home. I lifted my gaze to the rear-view mirror and found the neon fucking blue I couldn’t hide even if I’d wanted to. But there was no life in them. They were dead, empty. I knew in my heart they were his…whoever the fuck he was.
One day I was going to hunt him down.
And make him relive all those special moments that were given to us.
In that place called fucking Hell.
I drove to the warehouse, pulled up at the gate, and climbed out. That nagging feeling brushed the back of my neck as I punched in the code, then spun around. I swept the empty streets as I waited. I was jumpy…too fucking jumpy. My thoughts rioted around London, that fucking bitch from The Order…and the female at home, one my brother seemed to be falling in love with.
I climbed back into the car and parked near the warehouse. It was too early for the job we had to do and planning was crucial. The last thing we wanted was another fucking surprise. By the time evening had faded and night had fully moved in, we’d cleaned and oiled every firearm, honed every blade, and we were ready.
The familiar bite of steel pressed against my back when I climbed into the Explorer. Colt had changed out of the dark blue t-shirt he liked to wear at home to the long-sleeved black vest he wore on jobs like this. He pressed the button on the door and left it to close behind him as he carried the duffel bag to the car stowed it on the floor.
Night was our playground.
Night was when we liked to hunt and there was no better prey than the fat fuck who thought he was untouchable. Tonight, he was about to get a lesson on just how touchable he was. I drove out of the gates and searched for whatever was causing that nagging feeling that someone was watching me, then headed for the highway that’d take us where we needed to be.
King occupied my thoughts. This was beyond a hunt now, beyond obsession. Beyond needing to find the motherfucker to unleash him at the one festering fuck behind this. It was because…I couldn’t find him at all.
I hated it…
No, hate was too easy.
I was consumed, unable to rest, unable to slow.
King.
King.
King…
I winced, forced the constant drone to the back of my mind, and tried to focus.
“You good for this?” I asked as I watched the road. “The last thing we want is for that fuck to get the drop on us again.”
A glance his way, and he nodded. I looked at his side, where the bandages were taped over the deep lacerations. “Good.” I turned back to the road and headed to the south side of the city. “‘Cause that motherfucker needs to pay.”
I shifted gears and pulled onto the highway as my mind returned to the female. The panic. The excitement. The fucking pure adrenaline that made those big brown eyes wide. I swallowed hard as my pulse kicked up and a hunger pushed in. I wanted to be there in that room, wanted to watch London strap her to that bench, and most of all, I wanted to watch her come.
My cock twitched.
I clenched my ass tight.
No. I wouldn’t think about her. Not like that…not again.
No matter how hard I battled the thought, she still lingered. Her fucking hair. Her fucking body—I glanced at Colt—the way she was with him. It fucking got to me. By the time I slowed the four-wheel drive and pulled over in the quiet residential street, I was controlled, ready to exact some revenge.
I reached around into the back of the vehicle and pulled out a black duffel bag before I lifted my gaze to the back window and stilled. Colt glanced at the mirror. I felt the scowl. “Wait here,” I muttered and climbed out of the car without making a sound.
Darkness filled the windows behind us. I scanned the street for movement to please that instinct inside me. King…King…King…I turned and made my way back to where Colt quietly opened his door and climbed out.
A shake of my head said, nothing, it’s all good. But that didn’t stop me from searching the parked cars and the houses before I took the item my brother gave me and slipped it over my head.
The balaclava pressed against my face and sucked in when I breathed.
I caught a glimpse in the tinted window, and my blue eyes were haunting against the faceless image. The sight would stay with them forever. Good, because I wanted it to. The Hellfire Rebel bastard was lucky I wore one at all.
Colt tugged his balaclava down and glanced my way before he nodded. With the duffel bag slung over my shoulder, I headed for the house. My steps thudded, and with each impact I grew colder, and colder, and colder. Until I became the thing The Order had created…
Until I became a son.
I reached into the duffel bag, pulled out a plastic snap-lock container, reached inside, and yanked out two steaks. A soft whistle and the deep snarls of the two German Shepherds came, right as I tossed the meat over the gate and retreated.
Ten minutes, that’s all it took for the dogs to consume the steaks and sink to the ground. I unlocked the gate, but before I had a chance to enter, Colt had already pushed past me to kneel beside the sleeping beasts and feel for the rise and fall of their chests.
He didn’t like it when animals were involved.
Not. One. Fucking. Bit.
His dark blue eyes flashed with anger when he looked up at me.
I held that stare, grasped the gun from the waistband of my pants, then reached into the bag for my silencer. “Don’t bitch at me. If the ugly fuck would’ve given us the information when we went to him, we wouldn’t be here. So, if you’re gonna be pissed at anyone, be pissed at him.”
My brother rose and swung his glare toward the house. Fuck, I didn’t like doing this shit. But the fucker hadn’t given us any choice. I headed for the sliding glass door and pulled out the pick. Five seconds, and the lock was open, as was the door.
We were silent when we entered.
The soft scrape of a boot sounded, then there was nothing at all.
We passed the kitchen and made our way to the hall. The photos on the real estate website had been perfect for tonight. We knew the layout, knew the location…even knew it had been upgraded to an expanded, double-lined garage for all those noisy motorcycles.
Colt stopped at the cracked-open bedroom door. Soft yellow light filled the space, fluttering and dancing with stars from the bedside lamp. Colt moved into the bedroom quietly and stood over the small form curled in the middle of the bed before he reached down with a gun in one hand and gently tugged the comforter high, draping it over the boy’s head.
I swallowed hard and turned away when my brother looked at me. I couldn’t see the pain in his eyes, couldn’t acknowledge the desperation. No. That’s wasn’t going to get the job done. We left, and Colt closed the kid’s bedroom door all the way with barely more than a whisper before we both moved to the bedroom at the end of the hall.
The one where deep, guttural snores and the stench of tobacco and sweat spilled out. My gut clenched as I gripped the edge of the door and opened it wide.
I glanced at the piece of shit, but it was the wife lying beside him I focused on. She lay closest to the door, one arm hanging down from the bed as she perched precariously on the edge, while that bastard…that bed-hogging, brother-glassing, secret-fucking-keeping hunk of turd lay, legs spread, in the middle of the king-sized bed.
The sight of that pissed me the fuck off. I glanced at the wife, then at him as I rounded the bed and stood on the side next to him.
Cold steel pressed against his temple, but the bastard didn’t wake. I gave a soft shove, pushing the silencer against his head. He. Didn’t. Move. Colt’s eyes blazed with anger when I met his gaze. I gave a shrug, what the fuck do you want me to do, shoot him?
Even under the mask, I knew he snarled.
Goddamn, fat…fuck. I gripped the gun, clenched my jaw, and punched the silencer in a place I knew I’d get a reaction—right against his balls.
His eyes flew open instantly. His gaze shifted to me in the gloom. There was a flare of anger and he opened his mouth to roar, right before I shook my head and nodded to the other side of the bed. The President of the Hellfire Rebels followed the motion, to find Colt next to his wife, gun in hand.
Fear filled his eyes. He knew instantly.
Knew who we were.
Knew why we’d come and he also knew the repercussions if he didn’t get his ass out of bed. A mammoth draw of a breath and he nodded. I withdrew the gun and instead aimed at his head as I stepped back.
“David?” The soft murmur came.
“It’s alright, angel, just getting some ice cream.”
She rolled from the edge and toward the middle now that there was room. “Put the lid on it this time.”
Soft steps, soundless. We made our way out of the bedroom, me with my gun pointed at him and my brother held back near his sleeping wife. She didn’t wake, didn’t know, just snuggled into her half of the comforter as we left her behind.
“Garage,” I said softly behind him in the hall.
Colt quietly closed the bedroom door and followed us to the semi-detached garage and stepped in. The overhead lights blinked on, filling the space with a blinding glare that bounced off the gleam of the three Harleys parked in the middle.
“Look, if you want—”
He didn’t have a chance to finish before I walked up and pistol-whipped the bastard right across the face.
He was big…but not that big. The blow knocked him sideways, but he stayed upright as he jerked a savage glare my way…so I did it again, only this time, harder. His knees buckled and he hit the concrete floor beside the bikes.
I stepped closer and pointed the silencer at the floor beside him. “You scream, and they are both dead, do you understand me?” He didn’t look up, didn’t even flinch as Colt found a chair and dragged it closer. “Now, we’re going to try this again…and this time, you’re going to give me the information I want.”
He started to shake his head, then stopped and lifted a hate-filled gaze to me. “You’re asking about the wrong fucking guy. King is a goddamn ghost.”
I reached for the edge of the balaclava and dragged it off my face, smiling. “Let’s just see about that.”
Colt did the same and revealed his face as he stepped forward. I saw fear in the bastard’s stare—real fear. Maybe he knew what was about to happen?
I WIPED sweat and blood from my brow and sucked in hard breaths as I stared at the bastard who’d passed out for the third time tonight. “Hey. Wake the fuck up, we’re not done yet.”
His face was bloody, and both eyes were swollen almost shut. Blood and saliva dribbled from his mouth and he was missing three fingers from his hands taped behind him. One of which was currently shoved up his nose.
“Maybe he’s telling the truth?” I glanced at Colt, who was just as winded as I was.
He gripped the bloody bolt cutters, then glared at the cocky bastard who wasn’t feeling so cocky anymore. A high-pitched whine came from the door. Colt strode over, opened it, and let both Shepherds in. They moved to their master and sniffed the blood, before my brother sank to his knees and held out his hands.
They went to him like he was their best friend, letting him rub their ears and give them all the love and affection they wanted. A low moan came from the President of the Hellfire Rebels. “I don’t know him,” he moaned. “No one does. Please…please, no more.”
I stepped closer, swiped my bloody hand on the back of my pants, and lifted the silencer to press it against his head. “I believe you.”
There was a sudden draw of breath and a low moan before I caught movement in the corner of my eye. Colt shook his head. I met his stare with mine and looked pointedly at his side. One jerk of his head toward the house, and I knew…he had a family.
But the bastard should’ve thought about that before he’d decided to glass the fuck out of mine.
We’ve done enough. Those blue eyes urged. Let him live.
Let him live?
Let him fucking live?
But we hadn’t gotten what we’d come for. I clenched the patterned grip of my gun and turned back, finding the pained stare through the tiny slits of the bastard’s swollen eyelids.
“We’re done here,” the president urged. “We’re done.”
I knew what he meant.
He wouldn’t come after us if we let him go.
Hate fueled me as I stepped closer. “My brother has decided to let you live. But if I even think…even for one second, feel your ugly, hot, fetid breath down the back of my neck, you know what will happen.”
He gave a slow nod, one that dislodged the thick finger and it fell into his lap.
“King?”
The man swallowed hard. That fear shone in his eyes. “I…don’t…know…where…he…lives,” he repeated for the hundredth time tonight. “All the correspondence we had was over the phone, even his voice was muted by one of those synthesizers. No one’s ever met him. We just did the jobs he requested and took his money. I swear to you on my son’s life.”
I pressed my gun hard against his head. “You don’t do that. You don’t bargain or promise something like that away. He keeps his fucking existence. He keeps it and he grows up none the wiser. Get out of the fucking game, David…and keep your family safe.”
He just gave a slow nod as I turned and headed for the door as we left the garage.
“Hey. You gonna leave me here?” the bastard called.
“Yes,” I muttered, listening to the crunch as one of the Shepherds found one of his fingers. “I am.”
I made my way out as I detached the silencer, and Colt followed a few steps behind with the bag full of our things. It was just one more goddamn night of disappointment. I was too pissed off to feel a kick of panic as I stepped through the open gate and neared the thick brush.
But I heard it…
Heard it in the snap of a branch as some asshole moved just enough for me to see him and murmured, “Now, what do we have here?”
I jerked my gaze around to see a crisp black shirt and a steely fucking glare as Colt closed the goddamn gate behind us, then turned and froze.
“I fucking know you?” I snarled.
The walking deadman just smiled. “No…but I know you.”
