Absolution

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Absolution Page 15

by LP Lovell


  "What?" The guy coughs. "Left or right what?"

  "Left or right, pick. You're boring me." Ezra sighs. "And when I'm bored I tend to get a twitchy trigger finger. So pick boy."

  "Left! Left!"

  Ezra remains crouched in front of the guy, taking another puff from his cigarette as he holds out his hand. Jonty places a switchblade in his palm, and the man immediately attempts to scramble away from Ezra, but Jonty's boot lands over his hand. His screams bounce around the alleyway.

  Dave growls, threatening to break free of my hold, and I tighten my grip on his collar. Ezra holds the knife up, smiling as he slowly hovers it over the guy's right hand.

  "Left. I said left," he shouts frantically.

  Ezra shrugs. "You took your sweet time." He hacks off the guy's pinky finger, and hysterical wails flood the street. Jonty clamps a hand over the screaming guy's mouth as Ezra moves to the next finger, sawing through flesh and bone.

  He is torturing this guy. It's not only my pain he likes; he likes anyone's pain, and I don't like that. I want to be the only person he enjoys hurting. "Ezra!" I shout, and he glances over his shoulder at me, the cigarette gripped between his lips.

  "What?"

  "That's not nice." My eyes lock on the guy fighting behind Jonty's grasp. "You shouldn't torture him like that. It's wrong."

  Ezra throws his head back and laughs, taking the cigarette from his mouth and holding it between his blood covered fingers. "Not fucking nice? He can live without his fingers. The poor fucker whose neck you snapped?" He waves the knife in the air. "Not so much." He turns back to his work, severing through another finger. The man's screams weaken into moans.

  I narrow my eyes. Ezra doesn't realize it's his fault I snapped that man's neck. When he wouldn't hurt me, when he ignored me, he forced me to do something to obtain my forgiveness. "No, Ezra. That was quick; you are dragging this out which is just sadistic. Just kill him."

  The guy's eyes pulse open, and he tries to shake his head, mumbling under Jonty's hand. Ezra rolls his eyes, takes another drag of smoke, then slams the blade down over another finger. The man's feet kick at the ground, his back arching from the pain as Jonty holds him in place.

  "Live, Evie. Live fucking messenger." Ezra stands, stepping away from the guy writhing in pain. “Some of us aren't fucking psycho's."

  I glance down at the guy's mutilated hand, watching the blood pool in the veins of the cobblestone street. He cut off every finger except his thumb. "You left his thumb?"

  "I'm not a complete bastard. It's opposable thumbs that separate us from animals after all."

  He is evil. Only an evil person would make someone suffer like this. I kill people, but I do not drag it out. I let them be forgiven. I pray for them before they die. I send them to heaven... or hell. But I grant them deliverance, Ezra just destroys them. Like the devil. He is destruction.

  Jonty pulls a cloth from his pocket and wraps the man's maimed hand in it.

  Ezra flicks his cigarette into the alley and takes a step back toward the man clutching the blood-soaked cloth to his hand. "You go back to your boss, and you fucking tell him that the next time I find one of his dealers on my turf, I'm coming for him personally," Ezra says. "And what I'm going to do to him will make this look like fucking foreplay. Understood?" The guy nods frantically. "Good." Ezra grabs the collar of his jacket and hauls him to his feet. He staggers a few steps before Ezra slaps him on the shoulder. "Off you go." The man walks away, swaying and leaning on the walls for support.

  He's just letting him leave. "Ezra!" I grab onto his arm. "Why did you let him go? Won't his people come after you?"

  Closing his eyes, he tilts his head back and groans. "Questions, Evie!"

  I direct my gaze to the ground. Ezra snaps and Dave jumps up, following behind him as he walks away.

  "Ah, he's a charmer. Don't take it personally, sweet thing." Jonty winks, flashing me a smile. I nod, and walk alongside him, and then he whistles "Knocking on Heaven's Door". It's now I realize that it was Jonty Ezra had to follow me that night and again, the idea that Ezra had me followed feels so romantic.

  I wake up, and the smell of Evie's perfume assaults my senses. She's here, in my bed. I drag my hand down my face. This is ridiculous and stupid. Now is not the time to obsess with a girl, and as much as I would rather stab myself than admit it out loud, I am obsessed with her.

  I've had Ronan and Seamus working on tearing down Zee's empire, and so far we've cut almost all of his supply from Mexico, as well as his most import routes to Europe and America. We have him under siege, suffocating him. Sooner or later he will have to fold, or he will have nothing left, making this entire ploy to bring me on side with him pointless. Although, I think this has gone far beyond business, it's personal now. I've heard nothing from him since the tits, and honestly, it's making me twitchy. Maybe I should be pleased. No news is good news, right?

  Either way, Evie should not be my priority, and yet the girl is like some sick sort of sick crack. She's all consuming, and I can't get enough of her. I glance across the bed to where she's laying on her side, spooning Dave. Her fingers brush over his side and he groans.

  "I thought you didn't like dogs," I smirk.

  She glances over her shoulder with a smile. "He's grown on me."

  She didn't have much choice. He's like her damn shadow.

  I get up and take a quick shower. I'm toweling off when I hear voices in the other room. Who the fuck is that? I wrap a towel around my waist and storm through the apartment to the entrance. Evie stands with the door ajar, talking to someone. I come up behind her and open the door wider, staring over her head at Jen. Her red hair hangs over one shoulder in a loose braid. Her toned body covered in a skin-tight red dress. Now, when a woman turns up at your door dressed like that, it's for one reason. I glance down at Evie, who is wearing one of my shirts with nothing underneath. Her hair is a wild mess that looks like she just got royally fucked. She leans back into me, pressing her arse against my crotch. She's a possessive little thing, and it makes me smile.

  "Jen. How are you?" She flashes me a seductive grin.

  Oh, this is going to be fun. I like Evie submissive, but I like her, even more, when she gets her claws out.

  "I'm good, Ezra," she says, acting as if Evie isn't even here. "I haven't heard from you in a while. I was worried."

  No, she was burned because she's surplus to requirement.

  "Well, come in." I almost laugh when I feel Evie go rigid and then turn, ducking under my arm.

  Jen steps into the apartment, a smug smile on her face. Evie plops down on the sofa with her arms folded across her chest and a face like thunder.

  "Take a seat," I say, waving toward the couch. I watch Jen glance at Evie with disdain. "Evelyn, this is Jen. Jen, Evelyn." Evie's eyes narrow on me before darting over in a glare at Jen. Jen's eyes are set shamelessly on my bare torso, and Evie notices, her nostrils flaring. Oh, this is too good. Any minute now and I might get to see a catfight. A hot catfight. Although that would probably end with Evie slitting Jen's throat.

  The longer Jen stares, the harder Evie glares at her. "I'll go make us some coffee," Evie says, far too sweetly as she hops up from the couch.

  "Uh..." I jog after her. "It's fine. I'll do it." She scowls at me, and this time, I do laugh. "Wouldn't want anything unsavoury slipping into our guest’s drink, now, would we?"

  "Then I suggest you get that whore out of your house." Evie's eyes narrow on me.

  "That's no way to talk about my friends," I cock an eyebrow at her, "sweetheart." And I wait for the explosion.

  I can literally see her blood boil to the surface. Her face reddens, and she stomps her foot on the floor like a child. "She is not a fucking friend. She wants to fuck you, and I swear to God, Ezra. I will kill her."

  "Can you blame her?" I laugh, loosening my towel and pushing it down my hips slightly.

  "Drop that towel one more inch..."

  I grab her hand, pressing it to my now s
emi-hard cock. "And what, little killer?"

  "Do you want her?"

  I grab her around the back of the neck and yank her close to me, grinding my boner on her thigh. "Not the way I want you."

  Evie scowls at me, and I lean in, teasing her mouth with my tongue. Her lips part and I sink my teeth into her bottom lip, making her hiss.

  "Fucking redhead." She pulls out of my grip and grabs the towel, undoing it and allowing it to fall to the floor. "Fucking slut," she mumbles. I pull back and cock an eyebrow at her. "You're not fucking hers," she says. "You're mine." She falls to her knees, and in one gulp, shoves my cock into her warm mouth.

  I throw my hands out against the breakfast bar for support, and she grabs the backs of my thighs for leverage. "Fuck, Evie!" She takes my cock until she gags, and damn, that's hot.

  "Ezra?" Ah, fuck. Why the fuck did I let Jen in here? Oh, yeah, so it would piss Evie off. I cross my arms on the counter in front of me and bend over.

  "Hey."

  Evie sucks me harder, pumping her hand up and down my base. Shit. I fight to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head.

  "How have you been?"

  Really. Now? She wants to make small talk now? "Fine. I'm, yep. Good." My voice hitches when Evie lightly drags her nails over my balls. I drop my head forward, squeezing my eyes shut.

  "Are you okay?" Jen asks.

  "Mm-hmm."

  "Is that girl your girlfriend?" Her voice wavers and Evie stops moving for a second. Of all the times for me to have to answer that question, it's when the crazy bitch I like to fuck has her teeth millimeters from my cock.

  "Uh, it's..." Evie's tongue presses against my Jap's eye, and I jerk. "Complicated," I choke. The next thing I know, her finger's pressing against my arsehole. I clench my cheeks together, but she shoves her finger up there anyway. I would be mad about it, but holy fucking shit, my balls explode, and I do mean explode, down her throat.

  I slam my palm down on the counter and clear my throat in an attempt to cover the groan. Wave after wave ripples over my body and I clench my fists because Evie won't fucking let up.

  "Are you sure you're okay, Ezra?" Jen asks.

  When I finally stop fucking coming, I manage to focus on her. "You should go. I'll call you." Evie rams me in the hole again, and I wince. "Or not," I cough.

  "Oh, um... okay." Jen takes her bag and is about to leave when her gaze moves to my left. I glance at a very smug looking Evie, who is wiping the corner of her mouth whilst glaring at Jen like she's about to stab her. Without another word, Jen leaves.

  "Motherfucker!" I turn to face Evie who looks like butter wouldn't fucking melt. My legs are numb, and I have to grab the counter for support. "My arsehole! Really?"

  She shrugs, then turns and trots out of the kitchen.

  I would follow her, but my legs are fucked. "Some things are fucking sacred, Evie!" I shout after her. "A man's hole is one of them!"

  I'm trying to be a good girl and not kill anyone. Ezra has me work at the bar on the nights he has to handle business. He said keeping me busy would keep me out of trouble, but he underestimates me, really he does because my little demon still beckons me. The thing that's the most concerning is that sometimes when I watch his chest rise and fall in deep swells as he sleeps, it tells me to kill him. But I can't do that because I love him. I don't want to kill the one thing I love.

  I managed to work behind the bar for three weeks without killing anyone. And then two weeks ago, Ezra made me mad, and I had to kill someone so I wouldn't kill him. I thought I could stop with that one, but there are so many bad men in the world, and Ezra won't let me have any control.

  I can't get the way Jen looked at Ezra this morning out of my head. I can't get the memory of him fucking her up against his goddamn window out of my head. He still hasn't fucked you up against that window, Evelyn.

  "Sugar," the man says, ripping me away from my thoughts. "My beer."

  "Miller Light?" I ask, reaching for a glass.

  "That's what I said the first time, dumb bitch."

  Heat covers my face and I clench my jaw.

  Forcing a smile, I nod my head and turn away from him, gripping the glass as I walk to the tap. It only takes a swift movement of my hand to pop the top to my ring and dump the poison into his glass. When I spin around to hand his beer to him, he has no idea I've done anything to it. To be honest, Ezra having me work behind this bar has been the best idea he could have ever had. It makes it all too easy to kill these disgusting men. They drink their drink. They start to feel sick and leave. They'll either collapse blocks away, or on the subway train. And in this part of town, scummy men found unconscious on a subway train are usually chalked up to an overdose.

  He brushes his fingers over mine when he grabs the glass from my hand. "You're a pretty thing. Too bad you aren't one of the whore's here. I'd pay good money to sink my dick in your tight little pussy." He winks and takes a sip before he turns away from the bar.

  I wish I could watch him gasping for his last breath. But I'm being a good girl, so I can't.

  Several minutes later, the crowd around the bar thins out, and I take the opportunity to go to the bathroom. As I am washing my hands, the door flies open.

  The man from the bar laughs as he drags his eyes over my body. I don't bother to turn the water off, and I quickly move toward the door, but he slams it closed and deadbolts it. I back away from him, my heart pounding violently as he staggers towards me. There's a sick smile on his lips as he grabs my hair and slings me against the wall. He groans when he presses me against the grimy bathroom tile. "All women are whores," he says. "Which means your pussy is mine."

  I yell, but he covers my mouth with his dirty hand. I sink my teeth into his skin, the taste of sweat and grease filling my mouth, but he doesn't budge. He grabs my skirt and shoves it up around my thighs. I struggle against him, trying to kick my legs, but he has me positioned in such a way I can't move. His rough hand works beneath the edge of my panties, and I try to squeeze my thighs closed.

  "Mm," he groans next to my ear. "I like a little fight, sugar. I like dirty little whores that are fighters."

  I choke on a sob and my mind comes to a screeching halt. I know all too well that I can do nothing to stop this. I am too small, too weak, and this man will take what he wants from me. I focus on the water still running in the sink and try to take my mind elsewhere. I try to ignore his fingers prodding and poking me while he groans. I go back to the place I used to go when Zachariah would take me. Numb. Empty. Useless.

  The man presses his forearm over my throat, choking me as he keeps me pinned in place. I know why this is happening. It's because I've found pleasure within my penance. When Ezra beats me, I like it and to be forgiven you must endure pain. This is my punishment. This is my pain.

  The man takes a wad of cash from his pocket, holding it up in front of my face. "Whores get paid to fuck."

  He shakes the cash at me and uses his fingers to pry my lips open. I try to fight him. I keep my lips tense, but he leans over my throat with more force. I can't breathe. My lungs burn, and I gasp for air. When I do, he crams the money inside my mouth, shoving it down my throat with his thick fingers. I cough and gag, spitting the filthy paper out.

  "Too good to take my money?" he laughs.

  I hear someone try the door, and there's a loud bang, but the deadbolt won't give. No one has ever saved me. Not my father. Not the police. Not God. And I accepted years ago no one ever would. The man jerks his fly down, the sound of the zipper seems so loud. The groan he makes as he pulls his cock from his pants causes my stomach to knot and my heart to race. I want to die. I'd rather die than let this man take me, but I'm helpless, and a coward.

  There's a loud crash. The metal hinges groan as the door crashes to the floor. Everything happens so fast, and suddenly, the man is torn away from me. I collapse, my legs weak. Ezra's enormous frame towers over the man, his elbow kicking back as he punches him in the face again and again. He drags him to the s
ink and pushes him face down in it. All I can think is that it looks like Ezra has just placed the man's head on a chopping block.

  "You picked the wrong girl to fuck with," Ezra says calmly before he pulls his gun from his pants, places the barrel against the back of the man's head, and pulls the trigger.

  My ears ring from the loud bang of the gun. I can't catch my breath. Ezra glances over at me, his chest heaving. One of his hands still holds the man in place over the sink, the other is braced against the mirror, gun still in hand. "You okay?"

  I should say something. I know I should, but what do you say to the first person who's ever saved you. The person who saved you when even God wouldn't. Maybe God sent Ezra to save you, Evelyn.

  "Evie!" He shouts and I jump.

  Tears sting my eyes, my heart pounds frantically in my chest. I should tell him thank you, I should fall at his feet and worship him, but all I can focus on is that he's still holding onto that filthy man. "Why are you holding him like that?" I ask.

  "I don't want fucking blood all over the bathroom."

  I nod but don't move from my spot on the floor. I stare at the man Ezra has bent over the sink. I listen to the blood drip, drip, drip down the drain, and my vision blurs. I finally mean enough to someone that they think I'm worth saving. The rage, the anger, the possession. In his own way, this is how Ezra loves. I know that now. This is the most meaningful moment of my life, and I want to wallow in it. I let the tears pour down my face, and I don't try to hide them. This time, I give my tears to Ezra. I hear a thud as he drops the body and without a word, he bends over and lifts me into his arms, carrying me out of the restroom.

  Jonty is standing outside the demolished bathroom door, his face expressionless.

  "Get a door back up and block the bathroom off," Ezra orders. "And call in the fucking cleaners." I twist Ezra's shirt in my hand and lay my cheek against his chest. He is my safety, my harbor, my savior. He will protect me.

 

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