by K. T Fisher
Elle is sobbing in Ink’s embrace. I stare at him, watching stray tears run down his cheeks. Most of the men here are crying. Who can blame them.
This is a tragedy. A chain of events that culminated in two deaths. Two young lives ripped away from the people who loved them.
A scream sounds; I turn to see its Holly. She’s standing close by me. Her hands cover her mouth as she wails loudly, tears blurring her vision. Ice comes to her aid and holds her, but I don’t think she even notices as she continues to cry.
I risk a look in front of me to see why she’s suddenly crying so hard, and I wish I hadn’t. The coffins are almost fully lowered now. I hate watching this, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes away. I start to cry all over again, cruel flash backs of both deaths playing in my memory. Danni having her life ripped away beside me, and the other ended far too soon by an evil man. I was too late to prevent it. The guilt eats deep.
His arms hold me tighter, and I let the sadness take over. I come undone, joining everyone else as we let our tears fall.
“This is all my fault.” I hear Maggie sob.
She’s in Scalp’s arms. Her face red with pain, she continues to blame herself. Jamie stands beside Scalp. His face frozen in place. I didn’t think he’d be here, but Maggie said he insisted on coming. He wanted to be here for his friend.
The strong man holding me shifts slightly, and I know it’s time. Cowboy holds me tighter, and I watch Elizabeth grab onto Angel’s hand. As the earth is thrown down on the coffins we say our final goodbyes to Danni and Justice.
Divided in life, together in death.
Epilogue
Emma
It’s taken me three months, but I think I finally found what I’m looking for. I let my gaze roam around the crowded, smoky bar room. I smile in satisfaction when I see him propping up the far end of the bar.
Even from this distance I can tell that he’s drunk. I hope he’s not too drunk though. I want to make sure he knows exactly what’s happening to him.
I approach the bar, head held high. I’m wearing my favorite red dress, and fuck me red high heels. I look damn good. I can tell from the glances I’m getting that I’m attractive to the men in here. My long blonde hair is cascading over my shoulders. I toss it back, out of the way, just as I take the last empty seat at the bar.
“What’ll it be gorgeous?” The young bartender smiles at me. He’s interested, I can tell, but it’s not him that I’m here for tonight. Tonight is about repayment of an old debt.
“Orange juice please.” I smile back at him. It’s a plastic smile these days. There’s no warmth in it anymore. That died the day I held Justice’s dead body in my arms. When we all watched as Elizabeth fought to retain her hold on life.
It’s been a hard three months for everyone. As much as Severed have tried to draw me in, to make me part of their family, I can’t. I was never Justice’s old lady. Shit, we only had that one night together, and it’s not like he slept with me, he slept with a ghost. I was just a vessel he fucked. Not that I regret it, I gave him a piece of happiness before he left me.
Elle surprised me. She’s the one who really pushed to keep me in their lives. From being the woman who hated me, she’s turned into my strongest supporter and ally. She’s the one who helped me track him down. She may have been a travel reporter, but she still has a kick ass investigative mind. She’s helped me accomplish what the rest of the club couldn’t do.
Angel will be pissed I’ve kept this from him. Ted hurt Elizabeth, nearly ending her life, but he stole Justices life from me, and I need revenge.
From my perch on the bar, I watch him. He’s really not much to look at. He’s nothing, a no one. You’d pass him on the street and not give him a second glance. What the fuck did Holly ever see in him?
As I watch him my blood boils. It’s so unfair. Here he is, alive and breathing, whilst Justice lies rotting in the ground. The only emotion I’ve felt for the last three months surfaces. It’s anger. I’m angry at the life that was taken away. I’m angry at the nightmares that little three-year-old girl wakes screaming from most nights. I’m angry for the little boy who almost lost his mother. I take a sip of my orange juice. But most of all, I’m angry for the child within me that will grow up never knowing it’s father.
I’m three months pregnant. We may only have had that one night together, but I have something permanent to remember it by. I understand Rachel a little more now. I can see how she could become obsessed with avenging the death of the man she loved. The father of her child. The difference between us though, is that I won’t hurt innocent bystanders in my quest for vengeance.
Taking another sip of my orange juice, I watch, and I wait.
***
I’ve turned down three offers of drinks and one proposal of marriage before he moves. He’s a little unsteady on his feet, but all the better for me to convince him he bumped into me, and not the other way around.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” He mumbles as the orange juice spills down my dress. Instead of following the trail of juice his eyes seem to be stuck on my breasts. They do look good in this dress, especially with the bloom of pregnancy to enhance them. Eventually his eyes move down my body, the gentle swell of pregnancy hidden by the cut of the dress, down past the almost obscenely short hem, tracing the contours of my legs, and landing on my heels. He gulps when his eyes reach my heels. They do seem to have that effect on men. They’re the kind of heels men insist you keep on during sex.
I’m tempted to stab him in the eye with my heel right now, here in full view of everyone, but I calm myself. That’s not how I’ve planned this evening. I’ve waited three months. I can wait a little longer.
“Can I buy you another?” He gestures at my now empty glass.
“I think it’s the least you could do.” I smile fakely at him.
We head to the stool he just vacated at the bar. He’s such an ass he doesn’t offer it to me, taking it for himself instead. The guy on the other side of me notices, and offers me his stool. I accept it gratefully. These heels are fucking killing my feet.
For the next hour I bite my tongue, and pretend that I find him interesting. I let him talk about himself, and he never once asks a question about me. Narcissist prick. Nothing he says interests me, but I do a good job of convincing him otherwise. The stupid fucker really does think he’s got a shot at getting me into bed. I’m not sure what he thinks he’s going to do with me when he gets me there, as Holly told me exactly what Justice and Cowboy did to him.
He finally blurts it out. “I think it’s time to go back to my place for a nightcap.” He’s so fucking confident he hasn’t asked me; he’s just assuming I’m going.
I nod my head in agreement, pulling on my long black coat, and sheathing my hands in my black leather kid gloves.
He strides ahead of me as we leave the bar. Was he always such a prick? I can’t think what Holly ever saw in him. It’s only a few streets to his apartment. It’s in a shady part of town; few streetlights guiding our way. All the better, it means I don’t have to look at his face as we walk.
He fumbles in his coat pocket for the keys. He’s not drunk, but he’s not quite sober enough to be able to locate the keyhole. I reach over and take them from his hand. “Allow me.”
The stench when the door falls open is almost overpowering. His apartment is a shit hole. He’s let himself go. From what Holly told me, he used to be so fastidious, almost to the point of being OCD about everything being in its place.
I make my way cautiously over the discarded pizza boxes and empty beer cans. This is what Justice died for? So this piece of shit could live like this?
I watch him struggling to remove his jacket, and I take my opportunity. Coming up behind him, I place my hands on his, stopping him.
“Let me help.” I croon seductively. In reality I want to vomit.
His hands fall away, allowing me to start to remove the jacket. I stop however when it’s half way down his arms, effectively trappin
g him.
Reaching into the deep pocket of my coat I withdraw the knife.
Slowly, I reach my arm around his neck. The stupid fuck thinks I’m trying to seduce him. This isn’t an embrace.
He stills though as I touch the knife against his throat.
“What the fuck?” He croaks.
“Recognize this?” I whisper in his ear. “You should. It’s the same knife he used to cut your dick off with.” I breathe. He shivers as the cold breath caresses his cheek. He’s not moving.
“What? Who? Why? How?” He stammers the words out, unable to form the questions fully.
“Oh, you don’t know?” I giggle. “Perhaps I’d better educate you then.”
He pales as the knife bites a little deeper into his neck.
“What? What’s going to happen to you is that you’re going to die this evening.” He whimpers. “Shush.” I hush at him. “I’m talking now.” I caress his neck with the blade of the knife, enjoying the look of terror in his eyes.
“Who? Well, I’m the woman who loved the man that you killed three months ago.” I calmly state. That causes him to piss his pants. “For fuck’s sake, you’re not very original are you?” I mutter in disgust. The strong smell of urine making me even more nauseous.
“Why?” I continue. “Because you killed him, of course.” I release the knife from his throat slightly, allowing him a short, but false sense of security.
“How?” I continue. “Like this.” I slice back with the knife; one strong motion to the side and it’s done. Exactly how Cowboy taught me.
The coward sinks to his knees. I watch as the last of his lifeblood drains from his body. It’s a fatal blow, exactly as I intended.
I stand before him, the knife pointing to the floor, dripping dark crimson blood on the filthy carpet. My other hand cradling the rise of my pregnant belly.
“Justice is mine.”
Carnal Persuasion – Prologue
Cowboy
It’s dark when I let myself into Emma’s apartment. Even if everything has gone to plan, I know it will be tomorrow before she gets back.
I shouldn’t have let her embark on this crazy scheme of hers on her own. But, she was so determined; nothing and no one could sway her from her path.
I sink into her sofa, guilt eating away at me.
I’m carrying a shit load of guilt around with me these days. Guilt that I’ve let Emma go in search of a madman, guilt that I didn’t rush into that cabin in time, guilt that I sat there in the shop whilst Danni died just feet away, guilt for not getting to Cassie quickly enough, and even more guilt that in my stupid ignorance I hadn’t realized she was still alive when I got there.
There’s so much guilt it feels like a fucking cancer, destroying me from the inside out.
I sit there in the darkness, alone. I feel so fucking alone all the time now, even when I’m in a crowd of people. Emma’s spent the last three months focused on revenge. It’s the only thing that’s kept her going. It was the reason she needed to get out of bed on a morning. I don’t have a focus, and I sure as shit don’t have a reason for getting out of bed anymore.
This is a dangerous time of night. The time between midnight and dawn. It’s the time where I let the dark thoughts take over. Would anyone miss me if I were gone? I really don’t think they would. I think they’d be better off if I wasn’t here. I’m just a dead weight now.
I’ve lost weight. My jeans and shirt hang from my hollow frame. I have no interest in eating. I’ve been keeping my own company most of the time. Not that anyone’s really noticed; they’re all so busy living their own lives, as they should.
The last three months, hell, the last six months, have been the scariest that most of us have lived through. We’ve been hunted, betrayed, and picked off, one by one. I’m such a selfish prick I didn’t notice when my best friend was falling apart and turning into a rat. How could I not see the hell that he was going through? Perhaps though, he just learned to hide it well. A skill I’ve come to master myself of late.
I try to think of anyone who’d be better off with me in their life, and I’m sad to say that I can’t. Sure, a few people would shed tears if I wasn’t around anymore, but they’d soon pick up and move on with their lives. Angel has Eve and Elizabeth. Prez has Teresa, and they’re expecting a baby. Emma’s going to move on with her own life once tonight’s over. Come tomorrow, she won’t need me anymore.
I understand now what I have to do. It’s like a fog has lifted, revealing the clear path lying ahead of me.
I turn the polished metal in my hands. Such a small thing, yet it can destroy so many lives. Tonight though I’m going to use it to make other people’s lives better. That’s got to be a good thing. Right?
I place the barrel of the gun in my mouth, closing my lips around it. Am I supposed to say a prayer now? Make a peace with my God?
The problem is I no longer have faith. How can you watch so many people you love die, and still have faith in a religion?
It’s selfish of me to do this here. It’s not fair on Emma. She’s tough though. She’ll handle it. She’ll get over it.
Spinning the barrel, I leave the decision to fate. Bracing myself, I pull the trigger. The click of the gun masking the soft click of the door opening.
Russian fucking roulette. The pull of the trigger is the only noise the gun makes. Fate has decided. She’s not done with me yet.
Acknowledgements
You may not realize this, but no book we write is written by us alone. We may come up with the plot and place the words on the page, but we have an amazing team of beta readers who help us shape the final version. Not that we take a blind bit of notice what they say unless they’re correcting our grammar or spelling of course.
What these amazing ladies do is react. We feed them the story in dribs and drabs, they’re a bit like mushrooms, we keep them in the dark and feed them… well you get the idea. And they never fail to react. This book especially prompted some very emotional outbursts, most of which can’t be shared in public for fear of offending those of a delicate disposition.
So to Angi, Clare (And her husband M), Emma, Elle, Nadia, Vickie, Ellen, Jane, Claire and Mel – we humbly salute you and thank you for putting up with us.
To our fantastic street teams who promote us for the love of it, thank you.
To the bloggers who share our teasers, review our books and bring you our new releases – we couldn’t do this without you.
And to the readers who enjoy our books – thank you for giving us a reason to keep doing what we love.
Other Books by K.T. Fisher & Ava Manello
K.T. Fisher
Rockstar Daddy (Decoy 1)
Rockstar's Girl (Decoy 2)
Rockstar's Angel (Decoy 3)
Rockstars Valentine (0.5)
Heat (Black Inferno 1)
Ignite (Black Inferno 2)
Ava Manello
Strip Teaser (Naked Night’s 1)
About K.T Fisher
I love reading; it's my favorite hobby. I've always had ideas for my own books packed into my head so I thought I would write them out for people to enjoy
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About Ava Manello
I'm a passionate reader, blogger, publisher, and author. I love nothing more than helping other Indie authors publish their books - be that reviewing, beta reading, formatting or proofreading.
I love erotic suspense that's well written and engages the reader, and I love promoting the heck out of it over on my book blog http://www.kinkybookklub.co.uk
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