by Penny Dee
“Call the committee. We’ll meet in the chapel in an hour,” Jack says.
The committee is the founders and the high-ranking members of the Tennessee Chapter. They make the decisions for the club.
“You got it.” Shooter pauses and again his eyes slide to me, then back to Jack. He turns away, a small movement but one that tells me he doesn’t want me hearing what he’s going to say next. “We had a word about TomTom. Paw, Venom, and Dakota Joe have gone to check it out. Looks like the case against him collapsed.”
Jack’s eyes close then open, and his nostrils flare, but he says nothing. He doesn’t have to. His hard eyes speak for him. Whoever TomTom is, he’s sent a storm through Jack’s expression.
“I’ll keep you updated.” Shooter walks to the door. “See you in the chapel.”
When he and Ares leave, I sit on the bed next to Jack.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods but then shakes his head in disbelief. “Fucking kids.”
I want to ask him who TomTom is but let it go. It’s obviously club business, so he won’t tell me anyway.
“Why didn’t you let Shooter kick me out when he came in to tell you about the kids?”
In the soft light of the room, his eyes soften as they find mine. “I’ve just had you in my arms, wildflower, and you’ve been sleeping beside me since this happened. And this afternoon…” His eyes are sharp. “You weren’t going anywhere.”
Emotion blooms in my chest.
He doesn’t know it.
But Jack has just let down another wall.
JACK
“Kids and a stray bullet! Are you fucking kidding me?” Ghoul states. “What are the fucking chances?”
“Actually, the odds are a lot better than you think,” Banks replies. “You’re more likely to get hit by a stray bullet than bit by a shark. Of course, it all depends on the variables. Someone in East Tennessee is less likely to get bit because there’s no ocean. But someone in say, Australia, who visits the beach more often is more likely to get bit. But a bullet will more likely happen on land… that’s a whole new set of odds… and we inhabit land more than the ocean. Hence, the odds are in favor of the stray bullet. It all comes down to probability, odds, and risk assessment.”
Looking exhausted, Wyatt raises an eyebrow at him. “Let me guess, you went to prom alone.”
Banks pushes up his glasses and then gives Wyatt a good look at his middle finger.
Church is in session.
Everyone is here, except Paw, Venom, and Dakota Joe.
“Doesn’t seem right, though, does it? Our president getting shot, and it being a big fucking mistake,” Gabe says.
“Feels like someone should have to pay,” Gambit growls.
“They was kids,” Earl reminds him. “Don’t see much point in wishin’ somethin’ bad on a bunch of shitty kids who don’t know how to shoot straight.”
“Earl is right. We walk away from this. Move forward. Lockdown is over.”
There is a sigh of relief around the table. For almost two weeks, all my Kings of Mayhem brothers and their old ladies and kids have been locked down in the clubhouse. Thankfully, the old hotel has the capacity to house everyone without it being too cramped, and fortunately, no one has gone postal with the forced isolation. But any longer and an intense dose of cabin fever would whip through the group faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.
“Thank Christ for that. Misty is driving me fucking crazy,” Munster says. His old lady is an ex-dancer from Vegas and can be demanding at the best of times. He uses the clubhouse as an escape from her. It isn’t the happiest of unions, but it’s one that neither seems interested in quitting.
Merrick claps his hands together. “Man, I need to get over to Candy Town and let off some steam.”
From what Shooter tells me, Merrick’s been letting off steam with the club girls for the past ten days.
Bringing down the gavel, I wrap up church quickly, which suits my brothers just fine. Some of them are keen to get their families out of the clubhouse and home, while others just want to ride or go in pursuit of pussy.
Ghoul stands. “I’m jumping on my girl and riding up to The House of Sin. Don’t try calling me for at least a week. Gonna lose myself in some high-quality pussy until I’m shooting fucking blanks.”
“I’m coming with you,” Gambit says.
“I’m up for that,” Merrick states.
“What about Candy Town?” Ghoul asks.
“Fuck, Candy Town. I want myself a nice, sweet piece of mountain pie.”
“What about you?” Shooter asks me. “You heading home?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m going back to fucking bed.”
Church has taken it out of me. I want to get back to my room and fall into bed. With Bronte.
A distant voice in the back of my head tells me I should send her on her way. To stop myself from getting swept up in something that could hurt us both. But the idea of feeling her warmth beside me again tonight is too much of a temptation to resist, and I’m too much of a selfish sonofabitch to even try.
But I don’t get there.
As I leave church, Shooter and Ares pull me aside. Paw, Venom, and Dakota Joe have arrived back.
“You’re not going to believe this, brother,” Paw says.
The six of us head down the hallway toward the stairs leading to the basement. A single light is on, and in the middle of the room is a man, and he’s busted up.
I look at Paw, and he nods.
My jaw tightens.
“Are you up to this?” Shooter asks. “Because if you need to step this one out, we’ve got this.”
“Believe me, it will be a pleasure,” Ares adds darkly.
I shake my head. The blood in my veins is already boiling. “No,” I answer quickly.
Though it weighs heavily on my heart, this is my job as president, and as long as I wear that patch on my cut, I’m going to do what every good president does. Protect my club and those loyal to it.
Accepting Paw’s Ruger from him, I turn my back on that part of me that is sick of all the blood and the killing and step into the light.
The man with the blood oozing from his nose and puke dripping from his lips, has it coming. Tied to a chair, he groans as he weaves in and out of consciousness.
TomTom.
Two weeks ago, he was tied to the murder of a teenager in Knoxville. Two hours ago, he walked free from court after the case against him collapsed.
But the asshole did it.
Raped and murdered her before dumping the young girl’s body in a swamp two hundred miles away. The only reason he’s walking free is because someone fucked up with the evidence along the way—a technicality they call it. Well, fuck that!
Paw, Wyatt, and Shooter picked him up outside a high school this afternoon. Sitting in his pickup truck.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hunting.
I’m not going to feel bad about his death.
He deserves what’s coming.
However, I’m not one for torture. To be honest, I don’t have the stomach for it. I’m not a psychopath—although some might debate that fact—and I don’t believe in prolonging pain longer than necessary. This guy is scum—a bottom feeder. Getting rid of him will be doing the world a gigantic favor.
Shooter has already worked him over, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Paw and Wyatt have too.
His chin rests against his chest, but he lifts it when he hears me walk in. The moment he fixes his eyes to me, he smiles and begins to laugh.
I don’t react.
It’s what he wants.
And I’m not here to fuck around.
So, I get straight to the point.
“Where is he?”
He plays dumb.
“Who?”
So I pull the Ruger from the waistband of my jeans and shove it under his jaw.
“That piece of shit you ride with… Ghost.”
Agai
n, he laughs, so I screw the tip of the Ruger tighter into his jaw. “One thing you should know about me is that I have very little patience. And when I get impatient, my trigger finger gets very twitchy. So, let’s try this again, shall we?”
He scoffs. “Oh, I know who you are. I know all about you, Jack Dillinger. President of the Kings of Mayhem, Tennessee. The big man himself.” His eyes gleam with resentment. “Fucking asshole.”
“Says the child killer.”
“She was eighteen.”
“Oh, that makes it so much better.” My finger itches. “Where is Ghost?”
“You’re already a dead man!” He laughs, blood coating his teeth and running down his chin.
“You’re right. I am a dead man. Ghost made sure of that when he put me on this path.” I crouch before him. “So, I’ve got nothing to fucking lose.”
“You better hope that’s true. Because he’ll take everything from you before he comes for you.”
In a distant part of my brain, I think of Bronte, but I quickly tuck it away. “Now is not the time for threats,” I warn.
He smiles evilly, and for a split second, I wonder how many women have endured his cruel smile as the last thing they ever see. I move my gun and press it tighter into his chin.
“Now, for the last fucking time, where is Ghost?”
Another laugh.
Another second of my patience is lost.
That’s when I realize. “You don’t know where he is, do you?”
His smile drops long enough for me to know I’m right.
Fear deepens on his face.
His time is up, and he knows it.
There’s no point in me keeping him alive any longer if he can’t tell me where Ghost is hiding out.
“What are you waiting for? Get on with it.” His voice is tough, but I can see the dread in his eyes. “Or are you waiting for me to beg you not to kill me?”
“It would be pointless for you to try.”
Defeated, he snickers. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
I pause. “The teenager in Knoxville. Why did you do it?”
TomTom smiles evilly. “Why shouldn’t I do it?”
“I don’t know, because murdering innocent people is wrong, fucking ugly, and vile.”
Another snicker. “And what you’re doing isn’t, you fucking hypocrite.”
I ignore his name-calling and ask calmly, “Would you do it again?”
He laughs. “Of course, I would. You know I would. And how do you know? Because the same poison running through my veins runs through yours, Jack Dillinger. Yeah, I know who you are and what you’re about. I can taste your bloodlust from here. Oh, you claim it’s for vengeance, but the truth is a bit darker than that. You and I both know it. One taste isn’t quite enough, is it, Jacky boy.”
The time for talking is over.
I’m not going to let him worm his way into my head.
I know who I am.
I stand. Now’s the time to start talking with my gun.
“Anything you want to tell me before you die?” I ask. “Any regrets?”
“The only thing I regret is not being around to see Ghost destroy you.” He laughs again. “And he’s coming for you, Jack. For you and everyone you love.”
His words are like a razor against my last raw nerve.
Yep, this conversation is over.
He gives me one last insane grin. “Ghost is going to find you,” he spits. “Then you’re dead.”
Hate and venom swirl in my blood. “I guess I’ll see you in hell, then.”
I lock my gaze to his, pull the trigger, and shoot him dead.
It isn’t right.
It isn’t my place to do it.
But TomTom isn’t going to stop his murdering ways. He’s gotten a taste for it and lusts for more. He isn’t going to stop until the law stops him. And how many more women will have to die before that happens? At least with TomTom gone, the world is rid of one more dark soul.
Pity there are so many more left.
Like mine.
As TomTom takes his last breath, a gasp reverberates around the room, and we all turn to see Bronte standing in the doorway before she takes off like the wind.
Paw, Wyatt, and Shooter all look at me.
I hand Paw his Ruger.
Then go after Bronte.
BRONTE
My heart racing, I escape to the bedroom. I’m shaking. I know there’s a dark side to the club, but I’ve never seen it. Hell, I’ve never seen a dead body before, either. It’s shocking and scary, and I doubt I’m going to get the image unseared from my brain any time soon.
But in my heart, I know that whoever that person was, he had some kind of retribution coming.
I trust Jack wholeheartedly and know he will have a good reason for doing what he did. Still, it’s terrifying, and the tightening in my chest only amplifies when I hear heavy boots come up the hallway. The door swings open, and Jack appears in the doorway.
My heart lodges in my throat, and alarm tingles in the base of my spine, fueled by the dark look on his face. “Are you okay?” His voice is rough.
“He was dead,” is my lame reply.
“Yes.”
His confirmation settles over me like ice water, and I nod solemnly. “You had your reasons.”
“Yes.”
Again, that one little word ripples over me.
“This is who I am, Bronte,” he says the words like they’re a warning.
I go to him. “I don’t care what you have to say about it. I know you.” I reach for his face, but he grabs my wrist. Our eyes meet. His are dark and stormy. I ignore his hand and cup his jaw. The lines in the sand are drawn, but I’m about to destroy them. “I trust you.”
And I do.
With every piece of my soul.
I reach up on tiptoes and brush my lips across his, and even though he trembles, I know he is going to fight this, but I’m going to fight even harder for it. I widen my mouth and slide my tongue into the warmth of his. I hear him groan. Feel his resistance waver. Feel his fists clench. And as the kiss goes deeper, I know I’m winning the battle.
But with a sudden growl, he pulls away.
Then he moves back.
But I’m not having it.
Enough already.
I grab his bicep. “I’m a grown woman, and I know what I want. And I want you.” My pulse is racing in my throat, my heart kicking wildly against my ribcage. The way he’s looking at me is killing me. The torment, the need, the denial, they all crackle in the air. I swipe my tongue across my lip and his eyes track the movement—they’re hooded and lustful.
He prowls toward me. “You want me? Well, this is me, wildflower. I’m not the same man you once knew. That man, he’s long dead. Do you understand me? Dead. And in his place is a monster with veins full of venom and hate and a relentless hunger for revenge. I kill people. Send them straight to hell. Sometimes with my bare hands.” He holds up his big, calloused palms. “You want these hands touching you?”
“Yes.” My voice is small, only a whisper because my heart is beating so fast and my throat is as dry as a desert. I’m thirsty for him, and I want him to touch me. I want him to touch me more than I want my next breath.
He towers over me, his eyes dark and his voice dangerously low. “Did you hear what I said? I kill people.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” I manage to say because the moment is tight with danger and desire, and I’m both exhilarated and terrified at the same time.
“I’d cut off my own hands before I’d hurt you. But that’s you. And what you just saw, that’s me. I’m already stained in darkness. But you’ve got a chance to live in the light, kid. Don’t waste it. You need to stay the hell away from men like me.”
“No.” My voice is sharp. “I want you, and despite what you say, I know you want me, too. So don’t deny it.”
Jack looms over me, and I can see the storm taking place in his tormented eyes. Reaching for his hand, I press it
to my chest. “Feel how it’s racing for you?”
Lust shimmers in his expression.
“This isn’t because I’m afraid of what I saw or what you did. It’s because I’m standing in front of the man I want so badly, and my body is aching for him to touch—”
With a growl, he yanks me to him and claims my mouth. Rough fingers find my jaw as his tongue sweeps in, strong and smooth, and his lips take ownership of mine. Then he pulls away, his chest heaving, his lips wet as he searches my face, but he doesn’t search long. He grabs me hard and slams his mouth back to mine.
The dam breaks in both of us.
He kisses me fiercely.
On my mouth.
Down my neck.
Up my throat.
Back to my hungry mouth.
Temptation ignites into desire as I drag my fingers through his hair and break off the kiss to look at him. “I don’t care how many people you’ve fucked in this room. Or what you did tonight or any other night. I want you to fuck me.”
His eyes are stormy. His lips wet with my kiss. Desire now rampant on his face.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Both his hands cup my throat as his intense eyes study my face. “Because I’m not playing, little girl. Once we do this, you’ll be fucking mine.”
I slam my lips to his and kiss him, hard and deep. It’s a kiss that tells him I am surer about this than anything in the entire fucking world.
I want to put his fears to bed.
Fuck, I want to set them on fire.
I’m all his.
My moan falls between us, and it’s desperate and needy because I want him inside me, and I don’t want to waste any more time.
He uses his size to move me backward until my shoulders hit the wall. Despite his injury, he hoists me up in his arms and pins me there, his kiss searing as he works us both into a frenzy. I’m so lost in him I want to drown in the sensation of everything he’s doing.
With a groan that tells me he can’t wait any longer, he turns us around and walks us to the bed, where he drops me to my feet. Jack’s eyes burn with lust as he rips open my shirt and discards it to the floor, the heat in his expression blazing higher when he sees my generous boobs. He grabs one and grazes his teeth across a taut pink nipple, sending lust sizzling straight to my clit before turning his attention to the other. He turns my bones to liquid as he sucks, licks, and squeezes. I gasp. I want him inside me so bad.