Play You: A Second Chance/Single Dad Romance (Rebel Ink Book 4)

by Tracy Lorraine

  Puppies. Evil fucking puppies.

  Cruz steps up to me and wraps his hand around my throat, pulling my weak, frozen body from the ground as if I weigh nothing more than a feather.

  He leans in close, the roughness of his stubbled jaw scratching my cheek until his lips are in front of my ear.

  "You're going to wish I’d killed you in that van." His words are cold, void of any kind of emotion. Nothing like the young boy I remember who was so full of life.

  "W-what happened to you?" I whisper.

  "You, baby girl, and you’re about to regret every second of it. When my big brother walked away from his responsibilities, I was forced to step up. I've been trained by the best." He runs his nose down the length of my neck, breathing me in. "Hmmm... you smell sweet enough to eat," he murmurs.

  "Stop, please," I don't want to beg, but as his grip on me tightens, I don't know what else to do.

  "I think I've changed my mind," he whispers, sending shivers racing down my spine before increasing his volume. "I don't think I want to share."

  "Well then, boy. It's a good thing you're not in charge here."

  Cruz stands back. His master has spoken, it seems.

  I narrow my eyes at him as his stare pins me in place. I desperately search for any hint of that little boy, the one who used to spend all his days playing football in the Ramseys back garden, who had a dream of going pro one day.

  His hand drops from my throat and I suck in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the air they're desperate for. My legs just about hold me up.

  But I soon realise he's not finished with me. His hand comes to the tie of my wrap dress and he tugs until it loosens and the front falls open, exposing my body to them.

  His eyes hungrily slip down the length of me.

  "I can understand why my brother decided to take you for another ride. Shame we're about to fucking ruin you."

  "Cruz, please."

  "Oh, baby girl, please keep begging." He trails his finger from my chin, down over my collarbone and between the valley of my breasts. “Is that how you got Dawson to pop the question? By being his dirty little slut?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Ah, that’s right. It’s all fake. You don’t even have a ring, do you? He couldn’t even spare a few pounds of that impressive inheritance he’s about to receive to buy you something to remember him by.”

  His fingers drop lower and my eyes squeeze tight as I beg my body not to react to his touch.

  "You're going to regret ever messing with us, Collins. And you're about to learn a very valuable lesson." He takes a step back, although his eyes remain on my breasts.

  "Jinx, all yours."

  My eyes fly open just in time to see a wicked smirk pull at one of the guys’ mouths.

  He's a similar age to us with a shaved head and an angry looking snake tattoo that wraps around his neck and disappears under his shirt. He's not unattractive, but as he takes a step toward me, I wish they'd just hurry up and kill me instead of whatever they're intending on putting me through.

  "I've heard a lot about you, snitch," he growls once he's in front of me. I don't get a chance to respond even if I wanted to, because he lifts his arm and backhands me across the face.

  Unable to control my body, I crash to the floor in a heap. But it seems that isn't enough for him because he instantly hauls me back up, pinning me to the wall by my throat.

  "I'm going to rip this pretty little body in two until you regret the day you were ever born, let alone the day you crossed the Prez,” he seethes with so much venom it makes a fresh wave of fear race through me.

  My eyes fly to Cruz’s but his are dark. There is zero compassion or care in his evil depths. He really isn’t the boy I once knew.

  "Oh God," I whimper as Jinx spins me around and shoves me hard against the wall. My cheek burns with the force as my dress is pulled away from my arse.

  His fingers just wrap around the edge of my knickers, ready to rip them away, when the door flies open.

  "Get your fucking hands off her."

  My entire body sags in relief.

  He came.

  Dawson came for me.

  25

  Dawson

  I'm at the Clubhouse in record time. My heart thunders in my chest as I pull up to the exact same prospect as earlier. He looks shocked to see me again so soon, but he doesn't question my reappearance and lets me through once more without a fuss.

  I'm almost disappointed because every single muscle in my body is pulled tight with my need to rip someone limb from limb for thinking they had a right to touch my girl.

  I know this is what I'd planned to do.

  I was going to make her fall, make her my fiancée and then turn her over and force her to accept her fate.

  But that was then, and this is now. Things change, and they change fast it seems.

  The thought of my father or Cruz hurting a hair on her head makes me murderous. The only person who should have the power to hurt her is me.

  She wronged them, she wronged us all, but she was a kid, just like I was. She didn't have a choice. And looking back all these years later, I'm glad she did. She changed my life in a way I never expected, and although I was heartbroken and furious, I still knew that she was the best thing that ever happened to me, it's what made it all hurt so much. If it was just a bit of fun then I'd have been all for revenge. But it wasn't, and I'm not.

  As I pull my bike to a stop in the same place I parked earlier, there's a young prospect watching me from the shadows.

  Killing my engine, I hang my helmet over the handlebars and instantly walk his way.

  He watches my approach, but he doesn't give anything away. It's too late, though. I already know that he knows.

  "Where have they taken her?" I ask, cracking my knuckles ready for his refusal.

  A second of silence passes between us as he fights with his conscience.

  "I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stutters, only making himself look guiltier.

  "I'm not going to ask you again. Where have the Prez and VP taken the girl?"

  He averts his gaze for a beat, and I use his hesitation to cock my arm back.

  "Argh fuck," he groans, his entire body twisting away from me with the force of my punch.

  Reaching out, I have his throat in my grip and him pinned up against the wall, his feet off the ground, in no time. Little fucking weed; he's going to need to bulk up if he thinks he's going to make it around here. Well, that is if he gets to live after this. My taste for blood right now is almost as strong as my father’s to get the information I need.

  "Where. Are. They?" I growl in a low voice.

  "I-I can't."

  "Do you know who the fuck I am?" I ask, cringing at myself for using that line. I said I'd never use my father's game to get me anywhere in life. But then I guess I didn't imagine this situation.

  "Y-yes."

  "Good. Then you know I'm not fucking about when I say that I will kill you if you don't give me what you know, because," I seethe, "I know that you know."

  He trembles beneath my hold and I smile at him. But it's anything from joyful. It's evil, sinister. One that I was forced to give over the years but equally hated at the same time.

  Pushing my hand into my pocket, I flip my knife and watch as all the blood drains from the prospect's face.

  "Please, please, don't do this," he begs like a little bitch. Where the fuck is my father finding these pussies from?

  "Then tell me."

  I press the blade to his throat with enough pressure that it instantly draws blood. I need him to know that I'm not messing about here.

  His wide eyes stare into mine, the fear within them feeding the feral beast inside me. I tamped him down a long time ago, but right now, he's emerging faster than I thought possible. I was trained for this life from a very young age. It comes almost as naturally as riding a bike.

  "B-b-b—"

  "B-b-b," I mock. "Spit it the fuck out. Or
do I need to kill you?"

  "B-basement."

  "Basement?" I ask, not remembering this place ever having a basement.

  "T-the storage room next to your father's office. It has access."

  "Good boy," I sneer at him, pulling my blade away and then letting him drop to the floor.

  I take off for my father's office, hoping that little shit didn't just lie to me.

  I suck in a deep breath as I come to a stop at the door he just told me about.

  I wanted a plan. I wanted to know what I was walking into, but I'm going into this blind. She could be down there alone, or there could be loads of guys just waiting for me.

  Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I blow out my breath and push through.

  Sure as shit, the second the door opens, I find a set of stairs.

  As silently as I can, I walk down. At the bottom, there are four doors. I wait, and thankfully, someone's voice tells me which room I'm aiming for.

  With my knife still in hand—wishing like fuck it was a gun—I step forward. Without thinking about the consequences, I throw the door open and walk inside.

  The sight has bile rushing up my throat and my grip on my knife tightening.

  "Get your fucking hands off her," I growl, turning all eyes on me.

  "Son, how nice of you to join this little party."

  "Let her go," I demand, much to my father's amusement if the curl of his lips and his laugh are anything to go by.

  "You always were clueless, boy. It's why you couldn't stick with this life."

  "Jinx, back off."

  "I don't fucking answer to you. Prez?"

  Thankfully, Dad nods and he steps away from Piper a little, exposing her arse to the rest of the room.

  I move faster than anyone anticipates and I get a clear shot at Jinx before all hell breaks loose behind me.

  My knuckles and the metal that adorns my fingers connect with his eye socket before I flip my knife and drive it into his side.

  His eyes go wide as he registers what I just did before I throw him to the side like a rag doll.

  I stand in the middle of the room, my chest heaving, sweat dripping from me, tension crackling around us.

  Piper is behind me, resting back against the wall. I can hear her shaky breaths. But she's okay. Something settles inside me, but it only lasts a second because Cruz comes at me.

  "I've been waiting a fucking long time for this, brother."

  He always was slower than me, and it seems that even with the years that pass, nothing has changed. I block his first punch easily then throw a counterpunch that sends him flying across the room instead.

  Finding his feet, he flies at me again, teeth bared, ready to kill.

  No words are said as he ups his game and gives me a real fight. I know he hates me for the life he thinks I condemned him to after Piper 'died' and I walked away from the Reapers. We all know that being Dad's VP was my job. It was my destiny. But my walking away meant it fell to him, and he gave up everything he had to step up to the plate. It was expected of him, yeah, but he didn't have to comply. It was his choice at the end of the day. Dad might have been insistent, but he could have said no. Dad only had so much power; what was he going to do? Kill him?

  "Dawson, no," Piper screams when Cruz manages to get a solid punch in, making my nose explode.

  "I'm okay, baby. Get ready to get the fuck out of here," I say over my shoulder before clocking my brother so hard on the side of his head that he drops to the floor like a sack of shit.

  Movement from the corner of the room catches my eye, and I turn just in time to watch as Dad's other goon pulls a gun.

  He aims it right at Piper.

  "NO!" I cry, time suddenly slowing to a damn near stop as I race toward her.

  The bang sounds out a beat before I get to her. Everything around us goes silent as I stop in front of her before a burning pain explodes in my shoulder.

  "Dawson, oh my God."

  "Stay behind me, okay?"

  Moving as fast as I can, I reach for the gun sticking out of Cruz's waistband.

  Another shot sounds out, piercing the silence in the small room until Piper shrieks. I move just in time so the bullet only grazes my arm.

  "Motherfucker," I roar, pulling the safety back on Cruz's gun and shooting off my first round in years. Thankfully my aim is still intact, because it goes straight between the cunt's brows.

  He drops to the floor as I turn, slice through Piper’s restraints and lift her into my arms.

  Standing over Cruz's body, I raise my gun once more and then look to my father, who's standing like a stone, watching these events play out before him.

  "I'm pretty sure he's still alive, but I can soon fix that." Dad's mouth opens, but he doesn't get a chance to say anything because I lift the gun and put a bullet through Jinx's stomach instead. "You want your boy to be next?"

  "Son," Dad says softly, as if he's trying to get me on his side.

  "Right now, I'm not your fucking son, Prez. I'm your fucking enemy. You want your boy to live, you let us walk out of here and forget we ever existed."

  "Dawson." Frown lines mar his forehead, but I don't lower the aim I have on Cruz's head.

  Family or not, they took my girl. They did this, and they deserve to pay. It's only the thought of my mother sobbing over their graves that stops me from pulling that trigger.

  "This is over," I state, ploughing my boot into Cruz's ribs before marching from the room.

  Dad doesn't say anything as I walk out with my girl in my arms. I can only take it as him agreeing to my terms.

  As I climb the stairs, I hold Piper tighter, hating that I can feel her trembling in fear against me.

  "You're safe, baby girl." Her tears soak into my shirt where she's tucked her face into the crook of my neck.

  Kicking the main door open, I march us through and out to the car park. Eyes land on us as we emerge, including a set I got very close to out here not so long ago. I nod to him in a thank you. No one dares to say anything to us as I make my way to my bike.

  It's wishful thinking, because as much as I can try to convince myself that my shoulder isn't in excruciating agony, I can feel myself starting to slip from both the pain and blood loss.

  Deciding against the bike, I force my legs to carry us toward the gates.

  Each step becomes harder work, and my head starts to swim, the world going hazy around me.

  Got to keep going. Got to keep her safe, I tell myself over and over as I stumble forward.

  "Dawson?" I'm vaguely aware of her voice and she pulls her head from my neck. "Dawson. Fuck."

  Something hits my back, and then I'm falling.

  "I'm okay. I'm okay," I say, but even I know it's a lie.

  26

  Piper

  "Dawson, no," I scream as we crash back against the outer wall of the clubhouse. His grip on me loosens and I manage to get to my feet before he falls to the ground. With my arms around his waist, I attempt to lower him gently so he doesn't hurt himself any more than he already is.

  I run my eyes over him quickly as I wrap my dress back around me. He's covered in blood, but the fabric over his shoulder is soaked from the bullet he took for me.

  "Dawson, can you hear me?" I ask in a rush, holding his rough cheeks in my hands.

  "I'm okay," he breathes. It's so quiet I almost miss it.

  "Fuck." I need to get us out of here. I look around the quiet street. I can hardly call an ambulance or an Uber.

  My head spins, my entire body aching, although somewhat relieved that it's warmer out here than it was in that room.

  I'm just about to go back to the gate and beg for someone to help us when an SUV pulls to a stop at the curb before us.

  "Help me get him in," a guy in a Reapers cut says.

  When I look up, I recognise the man, but I can't place him.

  He takes most of Dawson's weight while I open the back door of the SUV.

  I climb in beside him and cradle
his head in my lap.

  "Do you have any rags or anything for me to stop the bleeding?" I ask in a rush as he opens the driver's door.

  "Fuck." He quickly removes his cut and pulls his shirt over his head. "Here, use this."

  I ball it up and press it against Dawson's shoulder as hard as I can in the hope of stemming some of the blood.

  "Where to?" the guy asks, his eyes finding me in the rearview mirror. There's a softness in the blue depths that I'm so relieved to see.

  "Um..." I know we can't go to a hospital with a fucking bullet wound. Dad used to have a team on-call for whenever shit like this went down. Charles did too. A thought hits me. "Dawson's house." I rattle off the address, but he doesn’t so much as punch it into the GPS.

  "It’s about twenty minutes. He going to be okay?"

  Dread sits heavy in my stomach, and my hands tremble in panic. "Only one way to find out."

  "Fuck," the guy barks, slamming his palm down on the wheel. "We'll get him there, Piper."

  "How do you know my name?" I know it's not important right now, but I feel like I need to know who this guy is. The one who's potentially saved Dawson's life.

  "You don't recognise me, do you?" He chuckles to himself. I shake my head, despite the fact that he's concentrating on driving and can't see me. "Well, I guess I do look a little different from the last time you saw me. My brows pull together.

  "I... I think I do but..."

  "Name's Link. Although, you'll probably remember me as Justin"

  "Justin?" I gasp, memories of Dawson's teenage best friend coming back to me. "Well, shit. You've..."

  "Changed, yeah? The IT geek look wasn't really working for me so..."

  "Wow," I say, looking at the full sleeve of ink I can see from here, and the ripped muscles. "You patched in?"

  He doesn't answer. I guess the fact that he took his cut off only moments ago is the only answer I need.

  I have so many questions, but now is not the time.

  I carefully lean forward, until I can slide Dawson's phone from his pocket.