by Levine, Nina
Tatum
“When I Go” by Keaton Simons
Numbers.
My days drifted past in a sea of numbers.
14004.
My bank balance.
6.
The number of meals I should eat a day.
3.
The number of people in my life who looked out for me.
5.
The number of flights I took to visit my mother while she was dying last year.
4.
The number of men I’d slept with over the past twelve months.
90000.
The amount of cash it took to crash my life to the ground.
8.
The number of years I lived a lie.
My days drifted past in a sea of numbers while I numbed my pain by disconnecting from life as much as I could.
As the guy I’d been watching in the casino all night slipped me his room key and said, “Room 1242,” I knew I’d be using that key.
I might have given up on a lot, but I never gave up on revenge.
Especially when it involved the opportunity to seek vengeance against the man I thought murdered my brother.
* * *
His greedy eyes trailed a path over my body after he let me into his room. I felt nothing but disgust and had to work hard not to vomit.
You can do this.
For Chris.
I flinched when his palm roughly connected with my breast.
“You came here to fuck me, right?” He watched me, waiting for my answer, his hand squeezing my nipple through my clothes.
Swallowing down my nerves, I nodded.
Fuck, Tatum, get your shit together. It’s not like you don’t deal with these kinds of men every damn day.
He kept his hand on my breast while his other one gripped my hip and pulled me hard against his body.
Against his erection.
He ground his dick against me as his gaze dropped to my neck. “Those are some tattoos you’re rocking. Who’s your guy?”
No way was I giving him my girl’s name.
“Dane Shepherd,” I lied.
His brows pulled together. “Haven’t heard of him.”
I reached my hand around his neck. “Are we gonna fuck or are we gonna stand here and talk shit all night?”
Heat flashed in his eyes and his fingers dug into my waist. “You’ve got a fucking mouth on you, bitch. How about you get on your knees and show me what it’s capable of.”
No way was my mouth going anywhere his nasty dick. “I’ve got a better idea. How about I give you a show you’ll never forget? And then I’ll suck your dick.”
“I don’t need a show. I just need you to blow me and then get your tits out before I fuck you.”
I tilted my head and hit him with a sexy smile. “Everyone needs a Billy-Jones-worthy show.”
He whistled low and his expression quickly turned from disinterested to intrigued. “You’re one of Billy’s girls?”
I nodded. “I do things for Billy that none of his other girls do.” Not a lie. Just a little creative storytelling.
He took a step back, dropping his eyes to my body. “Okay, but you better make this worth my while. I’ve got shit to do after I get my dick wet.”
It was time to give the performance of my life.
It was time to dance with the devil himself.
I placed my palm against his chest and nudged him backwards. “Sit on the edge of the bed.”
His brow raised at my order, but he did as I said. Once he settled there, I raised my arms over my head and linked my fingers before slowly gyrating my hips. I’d worn a tight black strapless dress that hit me midthigh with the express purpose of distracting him. It appeared to be working. His eyes were all over me; he didn’t seem to know where to look first.
“Fuck, I need to see those tits,” he muttered as he unzipped his pants to free his cock. Pumping himself, he groaned. “Show me.”
I shook my head and continued working my hips while I rotated on the spot so he could catch a glimpse of my ass as well. “All in good time. We don’t give up the goods that fast. If you know Billy’s, you know that.”
“Bitch, I give no fucks what you usually do, I want those tits out and in my fucking mouth right now.”
I stared at him, weighing up my options. I knew he was a man without a conscience, who would kill you just as soon as he’d show you an ounce of compassion, so I had to tread carefully. But I’d watched him for long enough to also know he had a thing for blondes and tits. I just had to play my cards right.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
That was clearly not something he’d expected. The flash of confusion in his eyes passed quickly though. “What the fuck?”
I cupped my breasts. “I have a thing for chests, so these bad boys come out when your shirt comes off.”
His shirt hit the floor a moment later and he stared at me expectantly.
My gaze fixed on the tattoo on his chest. The proof I needed to know he was the man I believed him to be.
“Tits. Out,” he roared, startling me.
I shrunk a little at his angry tone, but recovered fast. Pulling my dress down, I exposed my naked breasts.
He sucked in a breath. “Fucking perfect.”
I ran my hands over my breasts as I continued to dance for him. Every second sickened me. When I finished with him, I would spend hours washing his grime off me.
The end justifies the means, Tatum.
It did.
Every single minute of every single day of the last nine months had been spent working towards that end. I wouldn’t back the fuck down after all that. And I certainly wouldn’t lose my chance to settle the score.
He slapped my hands out of the way and yanked me to him. His movements caught me off guard, and before I knew it, he had his hands on my ass and his mouth all over my breasts.
Fuck.
I froze.
Our eyes locked and he must have seen something there that made him question this. Gripping my hair, he pulled my head back. “I wanna know who the fuck you are. But first, I want my dick in that ass of yours.”
Ice slid through my veins at the cold emptiness laced through his words. My mind raced with possible scenarios of how I would get myself out of the shit I was in. Before I managed to settle on a plan, he stood, picked me up and threw me on the bed face first.
I scrambled to flip myself onto my back, but he was faster than I gave him credit for. His strong arm scooped me around the waist while he reached under my dress to rip my panties off.
The sound of them tearing filled my ears, right before the sound of his groan. “Fuck, this ass is something else.” He rubbed my ass cheeks before slipping his hand between my legs to reach for my pussy. “I’m fucking you everywhere tonight so get ready, because this isn’t gonna be pretty for you. You’re dry as a fucking desert.”
I squeezed my eyes shut while he shoved his finger in my pussy. My body shook with dread, but no fucking way was I going down without a fight. I’d anticipated this could get messy, and I’d come prepared.
Waiting for that moment where his attention would be on himself for at least a split second, I focused on getting my breathing under control.
You can do this.
You can’t let him get away with the shit he’s done.
He finished fingering me, and his hold around my waist loosened. I knew that was my moment, so as fast as I could, I thrust my body forward, away from him. As soon as I was out of his hold, I flipped over and reached for the knife I’d secured around my ankle in my boots. Gripping it hard, I lunged at him, aiming the knife at his chest.
I almost succeeded.
Again, he was too fast, his reflexes finely honed for battle. He grasped my wrist and twisted my arm. “Fucking bitch,” he snarled as he forced the knife from my hand. “You’ll pay for this.”
My heart crashed into my chest. “I’ve already paid for it, asshole. There’s nothing more
you can do to me that will make it any worse.”
His fist smashed into my cheek, delivering pain that slowed me down. I ended up almost falling off the bed. My head and upper body dangled off the side while the rest of my body lay sprawled sideways across the mattress. I tried like hell to force myself onto the floor; however, he had other ideas.
The bed dipped as he planted himself either side of me. A second later, he grabbed a handful of my hair and wrenched my head back, twisting it to the side so he could see my cheek. His heavy body covered mine, almost suffocating me, and he punched me hard in the face again. So hard I saw black.
I gasped for air as the pain consumed me.
I’m going to die.
I’m going to die at the hands of a filthy biker.
It was a good day to die.
As much as I’d gone there to kill him, I’d always known there was a good chance he’d kill me instead.
I was okay with that.
Because the truth was, I’d died nine months ago.
The day he’d taken the one person I cared about the most in the world was the day I gave up wanting to live.
And now he would take my life, too.
Nitro
“Hell’s Bells” by AC/DC
The smell of sex hit my nostrils.
And blood.
I smelt it, too.
Then a voice came screeching at me. “Huge fucking mistake!” And a fist flew at my face.
I presumed he referred to the fact I’d barged into his hotel room and interrupted the filthy shit going on. I hadn’t had a good chance to see what he was doing, but I’d taken in a blonde lying facedown across the bed. She didn’t look conscious so I figured he’d been fucking her without her knowledge.
Not something I ever fucking condoned.
He’d pay for that, too.
Adrenaline spiked through me as every muscle prepared for battle. I grabbed his fist, clamping my fingers tightly around his wrist. With great force, I pulled him towards me with one hand while I pointed my gun in the direction of his dick.
It was a beautiful and almost-too-easy meeting of karma and victory when I pulled the trigger and shot his dick to shit.
Truth be told, the blonde had helped me. She’d provided the distraction I needed to take him by surprise. I’d moved fast once I got through the door, because I’d expected him to react swiftly. He hadn’t, and so there we were—him on his knees clutching where his cock used to hang, and me staring down at him.
“Doesn’t look like a mistake to me,” I muttered. Crouching, I held the gun to his head. “What I’m trying to figure out now is whether to make this quick so I can get out of here, or whether to deliver a slow death that would give me the kind of satisfaction I’m craving right about now.”
His empty eyes stared at me. He made no move to fight me. Simply knelt there in his agony, drawing ragged breaths and grunting through the pain.
When he said nothing, I continued, “I think I’ll do it fast. But only because I’m more than ready to feed the news of your death to Dragon.” Silver Hell’s president.
His lips curled. “Kill me, motherfucker. Dragon’s got more men ready to take my place.”
“Not once we’re done with him tonight. When we refuse a truce, we don’t just sit back and wait for your next move.” Dragon would wish he’d never started this with us by morning.
My phone rang. I stood to answer the call and the asshole decided to give his life one last shot by punching my crotch.
“What?” I barked into the phone as I fired the gun, ignoring the pain radiating from my balls.
“You done?” King demanded. “We need you back here.”
I looked down at the lifeless body on the floor. “It’s done. I’m on my way now.”
He terminated the call without another word and I shoved the phone in my back pocket. Glancing at the blonde on the bed, I wavered between the decision to check her pulse or get the fuck out of there. In the end, it was the moan she expelled that drove me towards her.
Making my way to the side of the bed where her head hung, I swung her body so she lay the length of the bed with her head on the pillow. She was regaining consciousness, and as I moved her, she cried out in agony. The noise splintered through the room, shards of her torment fracturing the stillness around us.
He’d done a fucking number on her. Blood messed up her face and stuck in her long hair. It was the swelling, though, that gave me pause. She’d be black and blue from this beating.
As my gaze moved from her face down her body, I realised this was the blonde I’d had an altercation with earlier. Her face was unrecognisable, but the tattoos covering her neck clearly identified her. I’d recognise them anywhere. They painted her neck, flowed down to her breasts and extended out to her shoulders to meet the tattoos on both arms. They were the kind of tattoos I’d like to study. Whoever did them was clearly talented and believed in quality.
She swallowed and tried to move. The pain appeared excruciating, because her face contorted and she cried out again. She squinted at me through her swollen eyes. “Fuck,” she rasped. Her breathing picked up and she swallowed madly, probably trying to lubricate her dry throat.
When her body jerked on the bed, I figured she was attempting to leave, but there was no way she’d be walking out of there anytime soon.
“Where’s—” she started, but I cut her off.
“He’s dead.”
My phone rang again.
Renee.
I answered it. “I’m in the middle of something. Can this wait?”
The blonde cried out again as she sat up.
“Who’s that?” Renee asked.
I watched the blonde wiggle her way to the edge of the bed, wincing with each movement. “No one. I’ll call you back in a minute.”
“She sounds like she’s in pain.”
Renee had a fucking sixth sense. “She is.”
“You don’t sound like you care.”
“That’s because I don’t.”
Silence for a beat. “I hate that, Nitro. You should care. And you should help her.”
I raked my fingers through my hair. “I’m hanging up now, Renee.”
“Call me back.”
Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I eyed the blonde. Her tits spilled out of the dress that sat scrunched around her middle. She wore no panties either; her bare pussy was on full display. Blood had dried on her neck and chest. That was in addition to the blood on her face and in her hair.
I’d bet my last dollar she had broken ribs. I’d also bet he’d raped her. I’d noticed cum on her ass and on the back of her dress when I moved her body. She was a fucking mess and I doubted she’d be able to leave without assistance, which presented me with a dilemma. If I left her there, the hotel staff would find her with a dead body. No way was I leaving a witness at the scene of my crime.
I had two options: kill her or take her with me.
By far, the easiest option was to kill her. It was the choice I was leaning towards. The last thing the club needed was to deal with this.
As I made the choice I had to make, she craned her neck so she could look at the dead body of the man who’d assaulted her. She then looked back at me and said, “Thank you.” Her voice was scratchy and she had trouble getting the words out, but her gratitude rang out clear as day.
I stilled.
People didn’t thank me for shit.
Well, except for Renee.
“Who was he to you?” I asked.
She exhaled a long breath. “He murdered my brother.”
My fingers squeezed the gun in my hand.
Itching to shoot.
Her eyes dropped to the gun. “Are you gonna hurry this up?”
You should care.
You should help her.
Fucking Renee.
My chest tightened.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I holstered my gun. “Can you stand?”
“Why?”
“Becau
se you’re coming with me.”
She stared at me, wasting my time. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Yeah, you are. Now stand the fuck up.” When she didn’t do as I said, I barked, “Stand up or else I’m gonna pull you up and that shit’s gonna hurt way worse than if you do it yourself.”
Eyes that bled hate stared up at me. “Fuck you.” She may have been sitting on that bed in a world of pain, but her body straightened with determination. “Just kill me.”
I stepped forward and placed my hands under her arms. Keeping hold of her resentful gaze, I pulled her up. She managed to stand and I was surprised when not one sound of agony came from her.
“It’s not your night to die. Fix your dress,” I ordered.
She glared at me, but did what I said. I had a feeling that if she wasn’t battered, she’d be fighting me every step of the way. Either that, or taking the gun off me and blowing her own brains out.
After she repositioned the dress, I shrugged my leather jacket off and said, “Put your arms out. You’ll need to wear this out of here to cover as much of you as we can. I don’t need security looking at us any more than they already will.”
Once we had the jacket on, I guided her into the bathroom and cleaned her face and hair up as best I could. I also cleaned the cum off her dress. She gritted her teeth through the pain, again not uttering a sound through the process.
“Right, I’m going to put my arm around you and you’re not going to pull out of my hold. Keep your head down and don’t make eye contact with anyone. Your face is a fucking mess; I don’t need anyone getting a look at that.”
She didn’t respond, just continued watching me like she wanted to jam a sharp object in my chest.
I gripped her bicep, squeezing just hard enough to draw a cry of pain. “You make a fucking scene and that beating he gave you will seem like a walk in the park. You got that?”
Drawing herself close to me, she spewed her anger in a violent surge of words. “What I’ve got is that you’re no better than he was. How men like you sleep at night eludes me. Forcing women to do shit they don’t want to is one of the lowest acts a man can do.”