by Alex Grayson
“N-no,” he stammers.
“That’s because he and your friend are in graves outside the Eddyville State Penitentiary walls.”
He sputters out a choking sound, his feeble escape attempts freezing. It doesn’t last long though. Within seconds, he’s yanking and pulling again, breaking the skin around his wrists and ankles. There are deep red lines across his sternum.
His eyes fly to Ellie. “Please,” he begs hoarsely. “I swear I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Him looking at her, beseeching her to help him, sends anger spiking through my system.
I rear the mallet back and slam it against the side of his ankle bone. An intoxicating amount of pleasure courses through me when he howls in pain and thrashes against his bindings.
“You don’t get to fuckin’ look at her, you bastard.”
Taking another swing, I do the same to the other ankle, satisfyingly crushing the bone. The legs stay in place, but the foot twists to the side. The awkward angle of his ankles reminds me of the movie Misery.
As Billy sobs and mutters incoherent words, I look to Ellie. Her shaking hand is covering her open mouth, and her face is pale. Her other hand presses against her stomach, as if she’s holding in the contents.
Her eyes move from the slobbering mess on the table and lock on mine. I ask her with my gaze if she’s okay. After several seconds, she gives me a small nod. I turn back to Billy.
“Ellie had to have surgery on her ankle to repair the damage to the bone.” I tap the mallet against his mangled foot. The whimper that leaves his lips sounds pathetic. “I think we’ve taken care of that.”
I walk around to the side of the table to his bound wrists, my back facing Ellie. “Her arm was broken in three different spots.”
His arms are straight, a couple of feet away from his sides. Lifting the mallet, I bring it down hard against his forearm. Another horrifying scream forces its way past Billy’s lips as bone and muscle protrude from the limb.
Twisting the mallet, I slam the side of the head down on the bicep. The skin pops open and blood and flesh spray out. The loud crunch of bones mixes with his wails. As sick as it may be, I fucking love the sound.
“You also broke her clavicle,” I say loudly enough for him to hear over his screams.
Lifting the mallet again, I smash the head against his collarbone and hear a pop as it breaks in two.
Hearing something behind me, I turn just as Ellie lists to the side and begins gagging.
“Goddammit,” I mutter.
Dropping the mallet to the table, I rush over to her. I gather her hair off her neck and notice how clammy her skin is. I squat down beside her.
“I knew I shouldn’t have brought you,” I say quietly, pissed at myself for letting her talk me into it. “Jesus, Ellie. I’m so sorry.”
Her bleary eyes search out mine. “No,” she mumbles. “I wanted to be here. I just….” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I thought I could do it.”
She stands on quivering legs, and I turn her so she’s not facing the table. Billy’s wails have turned to hoarse whimpers.
I gather her in my arms. “I’m taking you out of here.”
She nods against my chest, her fingers clutching my shirt. “Are you going to… finish?” she croaks.
I grab her damp cheeks and force her face up. “He doesn’t deserve to live, Ellie.”
“I know.” She takes a deep breath. “I just can’t be here anymore.”
I look over her head to my brothers. Emo’s still leaning against the wall, but Trouble and JW have moved closer to Billy.
“End it. I’m taking her home.”
Receiving curt nods, I scoop Ellie up into my arms, making sure to keep her turned away from the grisly sight behind us, and stalk from the lodge. She clings to me as I walk us to my car. My brothers will finish the job and bury Billy in a grave where all the others are. As much as I want to go back and continue what I started, Ellie is more important.
I just hope like fuck she doesn’t hate me after what she just witnessed.
I CARRY ELLIE INSIDE THE house and head straight for the bathroom. She hasn’t said a word since we left the lodge, but the silence is killing me. I know her mind’s trying to come to grips with what happened, so I give her the time she needs to do that, but I still hate it.
Setting her on her feet beside the sink, I turn to the shower. Once the temperature is to my liking, I face her again. Her face still has that deathly pallor, her eyes are red, and she clutches her stomach as if in pain. She hasn’t shed a tear, but her quivering bottom lip says she’s on the verge, which irritates the fuck out of me. Billy doesn’t deserve her sympathy.
Keeping my eyes pinned on her, I grip the bottom of her shirt. Without prompt, she lifts her arms, her vacant gaze somewhere over my shoulder, and allows me to pull it over her head. Her bra is next. Tossing it to the side, I squat and start on the button and zipper of her shorts. Her hands clutch my shoulders as she lifts one leg and then the other from her shorts and panties.
Leaning forward, I press a soft kiss against her stomach, right above her belly button. Not that I really expected one, but she doesn’t so much as twitch with the kiss, her thoughts a million miles away.
Gritting my teeth, I stand and quickly yank off my own clothes. I was careful not to allow any blood to get on my clothes during Billy’s torture, but the need to clean us both is overwhelming. It’s more of a mental cleansing for Ellie, hoping to wash away the horrors of what she saw.
“Come on, baby,” I coax and guide her into the shower.
The moment the spray hits her shoulders, they relax. Her head tips back and her eyes fall closed, her mouth parting on a soft exhale. Pain lances through me at the utterly despondent look on her face.
Grabbing a washcloth, I squirt some soap on it, lather it in my hands, and approach her.
“Talk to me, Ellie. Tell me what you’re thinking,” I say, and it sounds like the plea it was meant to be.
Water slides from her lips when she closes her mouth and tilts her head back down. Her eyes flicker open and the misery in them nearly brings me to my knees.
Damn it to hell, but I really fucked up bringing her along.
She pushes the wet strands back from her face and finally meets my eyes. I grab her wrist and massage the cloth over her pebbled flesh.
“I don’t regret it,” she responds quietly. Her statement surprises me, and the cloth pauses at her elbow. After a moment, I continue my trek up her arm to her shoulder.
“I’d understand if you did. I’d understand if you hated me and were disgusted by what you saw. I should have never allowed you to come.”
I move the cloth across her collarbone, my jaw growing hard when I see the scar. The echo of hearing Billy’s bones snap soothes my anger.
Ellie pulls her arm away from my grip and she steps so close to me the tips of her tits touch my chest. She tugs the cloth from my hand and drops it to the floor.
“Don’t do that,” she says earnestly, a crease forming between her eyes. She puts her hands against my ribs and rolls to her toes, putting her face in front of mine. “I chose to be there, and I’d do it again if given the choice.”
“I never wanted you to see that side of me. I’ll never be sorry for what I did to him, only that you saw it, that you felt even slight remorse for him.”
She rocks back on her heels, and I want to yank her forward to where she was. She shakes her head slowly.
“Being there was something I needed to do. I needed to witness the end of that man. I needed to see for myself that he would no longer be out there hiding in the shadows. Never, not once, did I feel anything close to remorse. Yes, the sounds of his flesh splitting open and the crunch of his bones….” She stops and releases a shudder. “That was hard to take, but….” She stops again and closes her eyes. Her voice drops to a bare whisper when she reveals, “I liked hearing his screams.” Her beautiful silver eyes flip ope
n again. “Maybe I should have felt sorry for him, but I didn’t.”
I gather her into my arms, wrapping her tight against my chest. The water pelts me in the face, but damned if I care. This woman is incredible. After what she endured at Billy’s and his buddies’ hands, she should be rejoicing in the sounds of his suffering.
She kisses the center of my chest and leans back. Reaching past me, she grabs the container of body wash, squeezes some into her palm, and rubs her hands together.
“Let me wash you,” she murmurs, her eyes darkening into pools of mercury.
My cock jerks at the prospect of her using her hands to clean me versus using the rag. I’ll take her bare hands any day.
My intentions weren’t sexual when I put us in the shower. I only wanted to wash away the memory of Billy and what I did to him. But with her eyes running over my chest, her tongue darting out across her lips, like she wants to lick me—fuck yes, my mind has turned dirty.
I hiss out a breath when her soapy hands move over my chest, gliding along the dips and valleys of my tense muscles. Up my arms, over my shoulders, across my pecs, and down my abs, I watch as she meticulously bathes me.
Her hands slow when she reaches the light scattering of hair on my lower stomach. My cock juts out, pointing directly at her.
She looks at me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her eyes heavy lidded as she sets a leisurely path down to my groin. The muscles in my stomach clench when her fingers stop just before the root of my shaft. She plays with the hair, tormenting the fuck out of me, but never makes contact like I need her to.
“Touch me, Ellie,” I rasp huskily.
The first brush of her fingers along my length has a deep groan rumbling from my throat. I throw my hand against the wall behind her before my knees give out. Her hands are perfection, smooth and silky against my hard flesh. She grips me tight and slides her palm up and down in lazy strokes.
I tip my head back, baring my teeth, trying to hold on to my control before this ends too soon. I snap my head down when she drops to her knees.
Oh, fuck me sideways with a ten-foot pole. There’s no fucking way I’ll last if she puts me in her mouth. I don’t stop her though, because damn, I want to feel the warmth of her tongue slide against me and the tight grip of her throat strangling the head of my cock.
Her eyes drift up to me, the look in her gaze lazy but so damn hot. She leans forward and darts out her tongue, licking away the pearly drop of precum on the tip before swiping across the sensitive underside.
“Sweet mother in hell, Ellie,” I groan. “Suck me, baby.”
With a hitch of her lips, her mouth opens and she sucks just the tip inside. I want to slam my hips forward, forcing my length all the way to the back of her throat, but I hold still, letting her run the show.
I keep my head lowered, unable to look away as another inch slides past her luscious lips and into her hot mouth. My balls tingle, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my release at bay.
With my unoccupied hand, I lace my fingers through her wet strands, tilting my head to the side. Her miraculous mouth is both heaven and hell. My knees feel like jelly and my stomach is a bundle of knots.
When she hums, I feel the vibration against the head and nearly lose my shit.
“Fuck, that feels so good,” I rumble thickly.
Locking my knees in place, I glide my other hand through her thick mass of hair, gently guiding her movements. When I try to pull her head back, afraid of going too far, she sucks me in deeper. The sound of her gagging and the tightness against the head is my undoing. My balls draw up and electric pulses start at the base of my spine.
“Shit, shit,” I chant. “I’m gonna come, baby,” I warn, giving her the chance to pull away before I release in her mouth.
Instead of pulling back, her lips lock tighter around my cock, and that’s it. I’m fucking gone. My abs tighten, my fingers lock into her hair, and the cords in my neck strain. Every molecule in my body detonates as my release slams through me and into the delectable warm depths of her mouth.
Panting and with my heart racing an erratic beat, I untangle my fingers from her strands, grip her under the arms, and haul her up. I take her lips in a bruising kiss. She matches my passion and gives her own. My arms bind around her waist, anchoring her to me more than just physically.
This woman is my life. She’s mine to protect, mine to cherish, and mine to worship. I plan on doing that until I take my last breath.
Chapter Twenty-Five
ELLIE
“WHEN ARE YOU PLANNING to return home? Not that I’m trying to rush you,” I tack on the end so he doesn’t think I’m pushing him out the door. I’ve enjoyed having Declan here, and I’m already dreading him leaving.
He shifts in his seat, sliding one ankle from his knee, only to lift his other to put on his other knee. His hands fidget as he runs them down his thighs. I hold in my smile at the apparent nervousness, a sneaking suspicion forming in my mind.
“Well.” He clears his throat. “I was actually thinking about sticking around for a little while. A couple of weeks, maybe.”
I hold one hand out in front of me, nonchalantly looking at my nails, and side-eye him, one corner of my mouth tipping up.
“And does this decision have anything to do with a pretty redheaded nurse practitioner?” I ask casually.
His gaze snaps to mine and narrows. I’m not fooling him any better than he’s attempting to fool me. I look at him head-on, foregoing my aloof curiosity and showing my happiness.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ellie. Susan and I are just talking.”
“Yeah, but you really like her, don’t you?”
Declan’s in his late forties and doesn’t have any kids, hasn’t ever been married. I’ve asked him why, and he just says he’s never found the person he wanted to share his life with. I think it’s incredibly sweet and romantic that he’s waiting on the perfect woman, but I worry he’ll wait too long and life will pass him by and he’ll die alone.
I don’t know a lot about Susan, and I’ve only talked to her the couple of times I’ve brought Maisy in for appointments at Trouble’s office, but she seems like a nice lady. A thought comes to mind of Judge telling me that most people in Malus have horrific pasts, and I wonder if Susan is one of them. The possibility sends a pang of sadness through me.
Declan rubs his hand over the back of his head, his expression turning thoughtful.
“I do. But I’m sure she doesn’t want an old man like me.”
I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous, Declan. Any woman would be lucky to catch a good-looking man like you. Besides, you’re not old. You could easily pass as being in your mid-thirties.”
He chuckles, relaxing back in his seat. “You think so?”
I smile. “Definitely.”
His expression sobers, turning serious. “You think Judge would mind me staying here for a week or two? I’d grab a hotel, but well, you know….”
Yeah, Malus has no hotels, because they don’t encourage outsiders to stay. And now I understand why. The thought crosses my mind that Judge may not be kosher with Declan staying, given the way they handle certain issues here, but I push it away. He’ll just have to deal with it. Declan is my family, the only family I have left besides Maisy and him. There’s no way I’ll ever make him feel unwelcome here.
“I’ll talk with him, but I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.”
“Great.” He slaps his thighs and gets to his feet. “I’m supposed to pick Susan up in twenty minutes. We’re going to The Hill for dinner.”
I stand and go to him, wrapping my arms around his middle for a brief hug. Pulling back, I get to my toes and press a kiss against his whiskered cheeks.
“I’m happy for you, Declan. I really hope it works out between you and Susan. You deserve this and so much more.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “So do you, honey. You and Maisy, and I th
ink that happiness is here in Malus.”
I grin widely. “I know it is. Now,” I pat his chest and step back, “go take Susan out and have a good time. I don’t expect you back before morning.”
With a wink, I spin on my heel and march to the kitchen, hearing his laughter behind me. Maisy’s sitting at the table, her thighs wedged against her chest as her heels balance on the edge of the seat. One hand holds a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, while the other hovers over her Kindle, ready to swipe it to the next page of the book she’s reading.
On the way to the fridge, I stop by and press a kiss to the top of her head. Too absorbed in her book, she remains oblivious to my presence. A small laugh escapes me. Just like most kids, when Maisy’s focused on something, everything else ceases to exist. I’m just glad it’s books that captures her attention so profoundly.
Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, I pour tea over ice and put the pitcher back in the fridge. I softly run my fingers over the back of Maisy’s head as I pass by her again. When I approach Judge’s office door, I rap my knuckles against the wood once before pushing it open. His chair squeaks as he swivels around.
“Hey. Brought you some ice tea.”
As soon as the glass touches his desk, I’m yanked onto his lap sideways. I giggle as I wrap one arm around his shoulders and grab my wrist with my other hand.
“Gimme that mouth,” he grunts, tugging me forward with a hand on the back of my head. His growl reverberates against my lips, the husky sound combined with the enticing taste of him making me squirm in his lap.
I smile lazily at him once we pull back. “You about done? There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
He releases his grip on my hip and closes his laptop. “I am now.”
I chew on my lip, wondering how I should approach the subject, but decide to just spit it out.
“Declan asked if he could stay here for another week or two, and I told him yes.”
“Why does he want to stay? Doesn’t he have a job to get back to?”