I have fifteen missed calls from Hunter and Jace. It’s not unusual to have that many, but usually I’m in the ring smashing some asshole’s face in when they’re calling. Tonight, I’ve watched every single call on my phone since I left, ignoring them all.
I put my cell in my pocket and listen to the buzz of the tattoo gun. I watch as Ronnie tattoos a butterfly on some chick while her friends stand nearby, giggling and taking selfies. They keep looking over, trying to flirt with me. Everyone wants a turn with the “bad boy.” I’ve heard it time and time again.
“Hey, you, come here.”
I shake my head, and two of them pout at me. “Fucking hell,” I mutter to myself. Why did I come here? But I know the answer already. Mila.
I have no idea why I ran… Fuck, I ran. I never run from anything. I smash it, destroy it, until it’s not in my way. But I can’t do that with Mila.
I kissed her. I kissed the girl I have been in love with since I was six. I can’t ever do that again. I can’t let her get under my skin like that and let go. Because if I do, she will get hurt. I can’t ever…
My phone vibrates in my pocket again, and I pull it out to see Grady’s name on there. Great, they’re involving him now. I turn my phone off and slide it in my pocket. I don’t want to talk to any of them. I don’t want to see their faces, and I don’t want their questions.
I run my hands down my face, trying to forget the way she smelled and how she crinkled her nose at me. How her lips tasted, how she kissed me back…how she touched me.
No one touches me.
Yet, I let her touch my face. Her touch was so light, a caress along my lip. I wanted to suck her finger into my mouth and taste it. I wanted to show her how hard my cock gets for her. I groan, my cock hardening even now at the thought of her gasp on my lips, her throat gripped tightly under my hand.
I don’t know what came over me when I kissed Mila. Fuck. My knuckles tighten and my hands ball into fists. I need to fight someone right now, but I know The Shed is the first place Hunter and Jace will look for me.
When Grady told us that Mila was at his place and that someone drugged her at a Kings party last night, l lost it. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch who did that to her. I was out for blood, but Hunter suggested we go see her.
After the revelation last night that Mila and Asher Rossi aren’t together, Hunter claimed he wouldn’t speak to Jace again. He was angry at Emerson’s party, so much so, he didn’t even hook up. And, normally, Hunter is the type to hook up at every party. He always has a girl hanging off him.
The girls keep their distance from me. That’s the way I like it.
I’d freaked out as soon as I got into Grady’s house. He said she was fine and in Jace’s bed, but I’d needed to see with my own eyes she was safe. That she wasn’t hurt. When I threw the door open and saw her pale, smooth skin bare, and the pink lace of her bra and thong, I lost it.
I didn’t want to scare her, but I wanted to kill Jace just as much as I wanted to kill the fucker who drugged her. I could smell sex in the air; I’m not stupid. The fact that Jace wore a guilty expression, and he was trying to wipe the evidence away as if nothing happened, told me all I needed to know. Even if they didn’t have sex, he broke the pact.
He’s the one who goes on about the pact every day, that we can’t let her back in because she will be the end of us. Yet, he breaks it the first chance he gets. He wants her for himself. He doesn’t give a shit about what I want. Or Hunter. Since she left, it has been all about Jace. He’s become a selfish asshole. And we let him.
“Hey, Valentine. Think you can help this lovely young lady out with a butterfly?”
I look up and see the brunette that was taking selfies is now standing beside Ronnie. He winks at me, and I let out a deep breath. He knows I hate these airheads, but money is money. I stand up and nod, pointing to the chair beside Ronnie’s.
“Your name is Valentine.” She looks up at me, batting her fake lashes, and I grunt in response. My last name is Valentine, but I’m as far as you can get from a romantic. I don’t do flowers and hearts.
I do pain.
“Love, Valentine here don’t talk much,” Ronnie drawls. “But he’s the best. He’ll take care of you.”
I shake my head but don’t look over at him. I’ve known Ronnie for years; I’ve been escaping to his shop since I was a kid. The art of tattoos has always intrigued me. I’m not great at drawing, but if you give me the design, I can tattoo that onto any skin.
I didn’t come here to tattoo today, but Ronnie has been teaching me for years. He thinks I’m decent enough with a tattoo gun that he now pays me to work in his shop. I enjoy it, too. He mostly gets me to tattoo college girls who venture in here on the weekends.
“I like the quiet ones.” She smiles up at me as she pushes down her skirt, exposing the virgin flesh there. “I want it here,” she says, pointing to her hipbone.
Another stupid butterfly on a hip for a college chick, coming right up.
It doesn’t take long. A small butterfly on the hip is nothing. I might have smiled when she cried out in pain. I have done dozens of these in the last month, and I never get tired of hearing them complain that it hurts. You get a tattoo on your hip bone—what do you expect? It’s gonna hurt.
The shop’s door opens, and I look over and immediately roll my eyes. Hunter walks into the shop with his cocky swagger. He’s wearing his glasses, not his contacts. I’m surprised since he hates his glasses. I haven’t seen him wear them at all this year. He used to wear them for reading when we were younger then high school he had to wear them all day. Now, he wears contacts all the time.
When he sees me, he nods. Like he knew I was here the whole time. “Hey, Roman. Been trying to call you.” He leans against the counter, and the chick I just inked sidles up next to him.
Hunter catches her gaze and gives her his panty-dropping smile. I ignore him and get the aftercare pack ready so she can leave with her friends, who are all standing outside, giggling.
“Hi there. I’m Ruby, and you are?” She puts her hand out to shake Hunter’s, and he chuckles, reaching out to her.
“Well, hello there, Ruby, I’m—”
I cut in and jam the sheet and aftercare cream into her hand. “He’s sixteen and about to leave.”
Her mouth drops open. I don’t know if it’s at the shock of his age or that I’ve spoken to her for the first time. She pulls her hand back and grips the aftercare to her chest.
“Hey, fucker.” Hunter shakes his head at me, a smile still on his lips as he turns to her. “What I lack in age, I make up for in skill.”
Ronnie laughs at that. “Yeah, yeah, Mr. Ego. Use your lines somewhere else.”
I chuckle, and Hunter shakes his head, because his lines do work. Just not on college chicks. Ruby leaves and I turn to Hunter, who is staring at me like I just grew another head.
Fuck. He’s here about the kiss. Fuck, that was more than just a kiss. I devoured Mila in front of them all. They’ve never seen me lose control like that. Is Hunter angry with me?
“What?” I finally ask.
If he is here to tell me he hates me now because I kissed Mila, he can say it and fuck off. I know I fucked up. Sometimes I sense that because I don’t talk as much, that they think I’m stupid. I’m not. I watch, I wait, and I see shit others don’t.
He is quiet as he watches me. I look out the front and see his red Audi. Jace doesn’t seem to be with him.
“We got a name.”
I quiz my brow at him. A name?
“The fucker who drugged Mila.”
I growl. That fucker is gonna pay for what he did to her. He’ll be lucky if I leave him breathing when I’m through with him.
“Come on. Shit’s going down, and I thought you would want in.”
Hunter knows me well. I always want in. That guy will never walk again after I’m done with him.
When we pull up to the restricted area behind the old warehouse downtown, near my place, I’m surprised. But not as surprised to see Jace’s car there beside a white Beamer. Does that belong to the fucker? If so, I will fuck that up as well.
Hunter kills the engine. His dad likes to buy him flashy presents, like this Audi for Hunter’s sixteenth. I gotta give it to him, though. It’s a smooth ride.
“Just one thing,” Hunter says. “Asher Rossi and Walker Murphy are here.”
I clench my teeth and growl deep. Those fuckers let this happen to her. Why are they here? I want to kill them just as much as the fucker who drugged her. They should have taken care of her, not let her get drugged.
“They’re just as angry, okay? Asher is gonna be Mila’s stepbrother, man. We talked; he wants to kill the guy too. But we said we would all do it together, for Mila. We’ve been waiting on you, but you didn’t answer your phone.”
I nod.
“I didn’t know you were working today?”
I normally tell them when I’m working. They like to know where I am…or, more specifically, where I’m not. Like at The Shed, fighting.
I don’t answer him, and he lets out a sigh but shakes his head. “We have him in there, but we’re gonna let you throw the first punch, okay?”
Hunter knows I need that; I need to be the first and last to inflict pain. They can have their fun too. But I need it like I need air.
Hunter hasn’t mentioned what happened back at Jace’s earlier. I’m glad because I don’t have an answer.
We make our way around the back. There is scrap metal laying around, and shards of broken glass crunch under my boots. When we round the corner, I hear voices. We walk through a door that’s been busted off its hinges; it lays at an odd angle, covered in graffiti. Littered inside are beer bottles, rubbish, and a dead rat. It smells just as shit as it looks.
I kick one of the bottles and it skitters along the ground, hitting stones, and the sound echoes within the large, open warehouse.
Sunlight filters through broken windows, and I see the four of them, standing there. They surround a guy with bleached hair who is tied to a chair in the middle of the room.
“Just in time, the party can start now,” Jace greets me.
I crack my knuckles and my neck. This is my type of party.
The guy, some skinny fucker in chinos, starts shaking his head at me like I’m here to listen and save him. “I didn’t touch her, man, I swear. It wasn’t me. I don’t need to drug girls to get them into bed.”
I look over to Asher and Walker. I’ve never spoken to them before, but I trust their judgment on this. It happened under their watch, and Mila means something to the King’s wide receiver. They shake their heads, telling me all I need to know.
“Tony, you’re a fucking piece of shit scumbag,” Asher spits at him. “Bryce has cameras all over his place. We all sat down and watched them, and guess what we saw?”
“Please.” the piss ant cries out. ‘
“It was you and your bleached-blond head as you dropped a pill into her cup while she danced.”
I feel my tooth crack. They had cameras and caught him doing this. I growl, it’s deep and throaty and the fucker starts to shake.
“You weren’t even invited to the party. You snuck in like a fucking sly prick. Do you even know who she is?” Asher is pacing now, his hands balled into fists.
I might not like the guy, but I can trust he is gonna see this through today. He will make sure for Mila’s sake, and for the sake of other girls, that this fucker pays for what he did.
“She’s just some trashy bitch,” the fucker screams out at Asher.
All eyes turn to him now, and I love the expression on his face as he realizes he just said the wrong thing. To five very angry football players.
I take a step forward. It’s slow and calculated. I want him pissing his pants before he leaves here. Normally, I wouldn’t hit someone that couldn’t fight back. But when my fist collides with his nose, I hear the crunch of it breaking. His head snaps back and I step back and grin. He lets out a cry that reverberates around the warehouse. Blood is running down each nostril, and I take a sick kind of pleasure from watching it.
“The fuck is wrong with you? You can’t just tie me up and beat me,” he screams back at me, as if I’m the crazy one.
He’s the one who thought it was okay to drug a girl and rape her. Breaking his nose is only a small step toward letting him know how crazy I really am.
He spits blood on the floor at my feet, and I look down at it and I growl again. “She isn’t some trashy bitch. If I ever find out you’ve done this again, I will come for you. Only, next time, you won’t be breathing.”
I nod to Jace to untie him. It’s not a fair fight, five against one, even without his hands tied behind his back. But it’s more fun if he thinks he has a chance against us. Even if the other four didn’t fight him, I would lay waste to him in less than a minute.
It surprises me that Asher is the first to move in on him as the fucker stands up.
“She’s my stepsister.” He grabs Tony by the shoulders and brings his knee up to the guy’s guts. The fucker groans and stumbles as he grips his stomach. But he doesn’t get a breather; Jace is next to move toward him.
“She’s my girl.” His voice is deep, and warning. He brings back his left fist, but the fucker sees it and flinches, turning his face. Jace lets his arm swing and smashes it right into the fucker’s ear, who lets out a piercing scream.
Jace is right-handed, so the blow isn’t as strong as it would be with his right, but he’s gotta protect his throwing arm. If the fucker thought that hurt, he still has me to deal with last. He’ll know what real pain is soon.
Hunter doesn’t give the fucker a chance to right himself. He sweeps his foot out low and takes Tony’s feet out from under him. He lands on his arm with a sickening crunch and groans. Hunter kicks him in the side repeatedly. When he finally stops, he bends over the fucker. “And she’s mine,” Hunter spits down at him.
The fucker rolls away and slowly tries to scramble for his feet. But Walker is there, his knee connecting with Tony’s face as he flies back. “She’s my friend.”
The blood runs down the fucker’s nose. His brow and lip are split, but it’s not enough. He needs to learn his lesson, and I’m the one to give it to him. I grab him by his hair and yank him up so he can see my face—the last thing he’s gonna remember when I leave here.
“She’s mine,” I growl, before my steel-toe boot connects with his limp dick. I let go of his hair, and he drops back to the floor with a strangled cry that has the other four flinching and cupping their jewels. His once-tan chinos are now shades of brown and red. He doesn’t move; he just sobs on the dirty warehouse floor.
I turn and walk out, my vision swimming with all the things he could have done to her. I need air and to leave before I kill him.
I’d said she was mine.
“Fuck,” I cry out as I smash my fist into the metal wall.
Mila can never be mine.
