At least before tonight, that’s how it’s felt.
Going up to my room, I strip off the offending wig, clothes, and walk naked into the bathroom. A hot shower will hopefully calm me down some. I know that the brothers plan to interrogate that piece of slime I had to meet. Part of me wishes I was down there, but the other part, the rational one, says that they know what they’re doing.
Standing under the hot spray, I let the tears from the past weeks flow down my face. I’ve held it together until tonight, but realizing that if they had not switched my drink I would have been roofied is something that is fucking with my head. The only man I want touching me has made it clear he wants nothing to do with me.
Or has he?
He’s been giving me looks, and has been watching over me with a keen eye, the last day. My mind is all over the place, its jumbled with thoughts.
I’m so lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice the shower curtain opening or the man in question stepping inside. When his arms go around me, I startle before I relax into him. “You okay?” he whispers. Turning me around, he sees my tear-streaked face and he shakes his head. “No, you’re not. Hellcat, if there had been any other way,” he starts.
“I’m okay, Atticus. It just all boiled over is all,” I tell him.
“Roughrider.”
“What?” I ask, confused as to why he’d want me to call him that.
“I’m Roughrider to you, baby,” he murmurs, pulling me close and holding me. I don’t know what parallel universe I’ve entered, but being in his arms again has calmed me. Well, most of me. There are a few parts that have come achingly alive.
“Roughrider, what are we doing?” I question, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Fuck if I know, Hellcat, but we’re doing it together. Y’hear me?” he responds. When did things change? It wasn’t too terribly long ago that he announced he wanted nothing to do with me. If memory serves, he made sure I knew I was a mistake and was forgettable in bed.
“I…I don’t do relationships,” I tell him.
God! I’m going to hell for all the lies I’ve told him since we met.
He barks out a laugh before saying, “That’s supposed to be my line.”
“We’re kind of a mess,” I state.
“Ya think?” he deadpans, pulling back slightly and looking down at me. “All I know is since you appeared in my life, nothing has been the same. Not one fucking thing.”
“Why would you want me? I suck in bed, remember?”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Why? Why are you sorry?”
“Because I lied to you. I thought it was the only way to get you out of my head and disentangle you from my heart. No one has ever gotten in there, never before you. I was confused, scared and wanted to push you away. Nothing about you sucks, Piper. I swear, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time where you’re concerned…but I swear, if you give me a chance, I’ll make it up to you…for all the nasty things that have come out of my mouth. Please, give me a chance to fix things,” he says, tilting my head up so I can see the sincerity in his eyes, and know that he’s not bullshitting me.
Not this time.
“Never again,” I whisper. He hangs his head, touching my forehead with his.
“Never again what, baby?”
“Never push me away again, Atti…Roughrider, or I’m done. I’ll walk and you’ll never see me again.”
“I never want to see your backside, Hellcat. Not unless we’re in bed and I’m taking you from behind.”
“Don’t tease me,” I implore.
“You’re mine,” he seriously states.
“Yours, and can I say the same thing about you?” I begin to tremble with each sweet word that leaves his mouth. I feel the walls I built up so long ago begin chipping away and crumbling, landing near my feet and away from my heart.
“You’d better,” he bites out, before grinding his groin into my belly. Fuck, he’s harder than I’ve ever felt him before. How is that even possible?
“We don’t know each other well,” I state. He has no clue the fucked-up mess I am and once he does know, will he still want me?
“Then we’ll learn, we have all the time in the world.” He has an answer for everything I come up with.
“I’m kind of a fucked-up mess, Roughrider.”
“I’m kind of the same, Hellcat.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he whispers, softly placing his lips over mine. “Don’t you worry, Piper. I’ll accept you warts and all, if you’re willing to do the same.”
The touch of his lips is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Soft and sensuous, it quickly turns heated and I find myself plastered against the shower wall with him poised at my entrance.
“Tell me you want this,” he says.
“If you don’t fuck me, I’ll cut your dick off,” I tell him.
“Do not threaten him. Not if you intend him to be any use to you,” he replies, hoisting me up in his arms before he thrusts inside. I groan at the intrusion before wrapping my legs around his waist. He sets a punishing pace and I wonder if it’s because we’ve been apart but quickly realize it doesn’t matter. I’ll take him any way he wants to have me.
“God, you feel so good,” I keen out, my head thrown back.
“Right back at you, Hellcat,” he replies, dropping open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and shoulders. I know my back is arching and want to yell in triumph when his lips finally close over one of my nipples.
“Fuck!” I yell. I’m so damn close I can feel the stars dancing behind my eyes. He shifts slightly, changing the angle and hitting that sweet spot inside me and I can’t hold back my scream as my pussy clenches around his length.
“Piper!” he hollers, thrusting twice more and stilling. I can feel him running out of me and open my eyes.
“You forgot again,” I say. Granted, my voice is breathless and hoarse from yelling his name, but he knows what I mean.
“On purpose,” he replies.
Wait, what?
“On…purpose?” I cautiously ask.
“Yeah, if you’re not already pregnant, well, at some point, you’re gonna be. And I’ve heard good things about what the hormones do to a woman’s sex drive,” he states.
Asshole! “Kinda putting the cart before the horse, hey, big boy? Maybe I’m not ready to be a mother yet.”
“Well then get ready, and I never purchase the milk without a taste test, and I love what I’ve been tasting.” Love? Did he seriously just use that word?
I roll my eyes at him as he disengages himself as he starts cleaning me up without another word. How do I deal with his chameleon-like personality?
“Stop thinking so fucking hard, Hellcat. I’m yours. You’re mine. Whatever happens, happens.” Ha! That’s easy for him to say. He’s not the one that will be carrying a baby. I’ll blow up like a Goodyear blimp! Not to mention, it’s his seed I’ll be growing and he’s not exactly a small person…if this kid takes after him, I’d never be able to push his or her huge head through my vagina! Holy shit, now I’m gonna panic.
Hmmm. Add mind-reader to his talents. “Who says I’m thinking so hard?”
“This right here,” he replies, swiping his finger between my eyes. “You scrunch up your nose when you’re thinking. It’s cute as fuck, by the way, but you don’t need to overthink this shit, okay?”
Mr. Smooth-talker he ain’t, that’s for damn sure. I know with him, what I see is what I’ll get and try as I might, I can’t be bothered to get too worked up by that fact. He may not have flowery words or pretty sayings, but I can believe what he says and what he does.
“Do babies run on the larger side in your family?” I ask him.
“Not sure, never have had one before.”
“Smartass! Do you have your birth certificate?”
“Yeah, what for?”
“It will tell me what size and how long you were when you were born.”
“Why is that important?”
> “I need to know if I’ll be giving birth to a newborn or a toddler,” I roll my eyes, and say in a duh tone.
“What the fuck’s the difference?” Please tell me my ears are deceiving me, and he didn’t really ask that question
“Are you for real? I mean, have you never been around a baby before? Most are anywhere from six pounds up. As big as you are, I’m thinking I’ll have a child that weighs upwards of twelve pounds.”
He starts laughing at me and I know I’m probably a sight. My hands are on my hips, my hair is soaking wet, and laying all around my head, my breasts are beard-roughened. “Cart before the horse, I see.” Great, now he’s using my own words against me, for fuck’s sake.
“What-the-fuck-ever,” I mutter, grabbing my sponge from his hand, and putting some of my body wash on it before I swipe it down my arms.
“That’s my job and I take my job very seriously,” he tells me, taking the sponge away. He gently cleans me, paying special attention to my pussy, tits, and ass, which has me wanting him again, before he places me under the spray and rinses me off. Swatting my ass, he says, “Playtime will have to wait until later, Hellcat. I’ve gotta get back downstairs.”
Fuck.
Destiny.
With everything that happened from the moment he stepped into the shower, she was the furthest from my mind! He must see my stricken look because he tilts my head again, and says, “Nuh uh. No regrets, Hellcat. We both needed that and there’s more where that came from. We need to move your things back to my room. You’ll be sleeping beside me from now on. I haven’t slept well since the last night you were in my bed. But that will have to wait.”
“Me either,” I admit as he dries us both off.
“I know.”
How? How could he know? “Wait, what do you mean, you know?”
“I heard you one night and came to check on you. Took everything in me not to crawl into that bed and pull you close.”
“I would’ve liked to have been nestled in your arms when I woke up.” See what I mean? He says he’s not a romantic, then he says shit like that, and I want to melt into a pile of goo.
“Not an issue any longer, Hellcat,” he murmurs, getting dressed. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. No clue if we’ll be done by dinner or not.”
“Still gonna cook. Y’all can reheat it, it’s just spaghetti.”
Atticus
I stroll down the hallway and down the stairs. I have to change my mindset from lover, to interrogator.
“Well, what do we have here?” I ask Silas as I walk into the room. I have to stop the laughter that wants to bubble out of my chest when I see the way he has strung him up. He’s hanging from the ceiling from eye hooks, and the rope goes from his feet, up through his groin, and around his neck. His arms are bound separately, they’re what he’s hanging from. But if he pulls his neck in either direction, it will choke him with the way my brother has prepared the ropes. “Looks like someone needs to stay very, very still,” I remark, going over to the table.
“Yeah, he was a bit mouthy and I wanted to shut him up, but he won’t oblige and make himself pass out,” Silas states.
“Well, let’s see if we can help him along,” I chuckle. I’m getting a snide look from the asshole, but I couldn’t care less what he thinks about me. My purpose is not to make friends with him, it’s to get him to talk.
“Get the bucket filled with ice cold water, and let’s play,” I say, rubbing my hands together in glee. This is the fun part, I have my own version of waterboarding I use, it gets even the toughest men to talk.
“Fuck yeah, brother. Are you using the bleach?”
“You know me so well,” I respond, my smile reaching from one side of my face to the other. The guy suddenly doesn’t look so smug.
“I’ll go upstairs and get a bag of ice out of the deep freezer, be right back,” he says, looking over at our strung-up friend, and laughing as he walks out of the room. Mind fucking someone is just as important as the actual deed itself. And judging from the stain that’s spreading on the front of his pants, we’re doing a helluva good job.
“Before I’m finished with you, you won’t just be sporting a wet spot.” He begins to struggle until his face turns red from lack of oxygen. “I wouldn’t advise you doing that.” I supply in a friendly manner. “There’s so much we need to talk about first.” He starts mumbling from his spot, only I can’t understand a damn thing he’s saying behind his gag.
I walk over and rip the tape off of his mouth, and pull the dirty sock out of his mouth,” Damn, Silas meant business, he didn’t even put a clean one in his mouth. “You seem to have really pissed my brother off. I wonder whose dirty sock he put in your mouth? You better pray it isn’t his, he suffers from athlete’s foot.”
“The fuck I do!” Silas says, returning with the biggest bag of ice we’ve got. “That’s the one Jonas uses when he, you know,” he states. I see the moment what Silas is inferring hits the douchebag because he starts retching.
“What’s the matter, don’t like the taste of come?” This is fucking hilarious, it’s taking everything I have not to bend over laughing hysterically.
“Wh-what do you want? I’ve got money,” he stammers out once he’s done spitting. Saliva is leaking down his chin.
“Don’t need or want your money, fuckhead,” I state. “Now, what should I do first?” I muse, looking at the table. I hold up the pipe wrench and swing it before putting it down. “Naw, not this one. It’s not heavy enough to inflict the type of damage I want to inflict on you.”
“We got that new blowtorch,” Silas says. “You’ve been waiting for the right time to test that, haven’t you?”
“Fuck yeah I have.” And the potent smell that enters the room has me looking over at our new friend. “Did you just shit your drawers? Man, you need to check into that. A man your age should have better control over your bowels.”
“Good thing I brought down the bleach,” Silas mutters, going over and quickly stripping the douche down. “Fuck, you dying or something? He must suffer from irritable bowel syndrome or something. Jesus Fucking Christ, you stink.” This time, I can’t hold it back.
“If your stomach is bothering you today, you may wanna step out of the room.” I chuckle, because Silas hates things that smell horrific. Made it hell on him when we were kids and got sick because he was the one who took care of us after our mom bailed. I watch as he mixes up some bleach water then sprays the asshole down, grateful once again that we put a decent drain in the bottom of the floor. “Do I need to spray some air freshener?” I ask Silas. Yeah, I’m goading him a bit because he’s kinda green around the gills.
“Fuck you,” he replies, flipping me off.
“Naw, you’re not properly equipped and I think it’s illegal in all fifty states.”
“Asshole.”
“Never claimed different. So, got anything to say yet?” I ask our guest.
“You’re crazy!” he screams out.
“Once again, never said I wasn’t,” I state, enjoying the look of panic on his face.
“What do you want from me?”
I take out a picture of Destiny and shove it in his face, “Her! Where the fuck is she?”
“What the hell do you want with that whore?”
“Not your business, asshole. Where is she?” I demand. I can’t let him know she means something to my woman, otherwise he could use it as a bargaining chip.
“Doesn’t look like he’s gonna talk,” Silas states. He walks over to the table and grabs the ice and bucket of water. I grin, and know it looks evil when I hear the quick intake of douchenozzle breath.
“Yeah, looks like Plan B, brother,” I remark, getting it ready. “Help me get him down from these hooks.” I pull the medical table that we acquired from the medical examiner’s office and roll it over to the sink we have installed down here. “We need to lay him flat on his back and hang his head over the sink,” I inform Silas, who now has the bucket filled and read
y. We lower him from his hanging position, and lay him on the table. His body is still bound, but that doesn’t stop him from wiggling. “Careful, you’ll fall off the table and knock your noggin. Remember, humpty dumpty never got put together again.” I love being a smartass during these times. It adds to the suspense of what they’re suffering.
Once we get him into position, I place a towel over his face. Silas lifts up the bucket and starts to pour. I can hear him trying to catch his breath as the water enters his lungs. We only do this for a few seconds, because the bleach will do some damage and I need him to talk to us. I pull the towel away, and Silas walks over to the table to refill the bucket. “Feel like talking yet?”
“Fuck you, asshole!” he shouts at me, water pouring out of his mouth.
“Again,” I say to Silas, as I place the towel over his struggling head.
“Fine with me,” he replies, pouring the refilled bucket over his face. I can hear sputtering but no words.
Yet. Once again, we empty the bucket.
“He’s a tough one, ain’t he?” I question as Silas prepares a third bucket. Normally, between bucket one and bucket two, we get them talking.
“Fine!” he sputters as I remove the towel. “She’s at 1560 Withering Road. At least that’s where she was yesterday,” he moans. That wasn’t even one of the addresses we had, so it’s a good thing we went this route.
“Thank you for that information,” I supply. I pull out my phone and send the address to Jonas so he can check it out. If she’s there, he’ll send in our other team to extract her while we ensure this asshole never sees the light of day again.
“Sinclair Robenstein, it’s now time for you to meet your maker,” I grin, causing him to yet again piss himself.
“No, wait,” he starts to say.
“Why do they always think they can save themselves?” Silas asks me.
“No clue, brother.”
“How do you want me to end this one?” I ask him, drawing it out. I want him to suffer for all of his wrongdoings.
“I’ll give you money, please don’t do this.” Begging doesn’t suit him. I hate it when they do this, and they all do it when the time comes.
“Well, he did touch what was mine, so if his fingers go missing, that would be okay with me,” I state, ignoring the money comment.
Seeking Our Revenge : Nelson Brothers' Page 13