by Monica James
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyrighted Material
Other Books By Monica James
Author’s Note
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Connect with Monica James
Copyrighted Material
BLOWBACK
(The Monsters Within Duet, Book Two)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference.
Copyright © 2020 by Monica James
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the express, written consent of the author.
Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Cover Model: Andrew England
Photographer: James Rupapara
Editing: Editing 4 Indies
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THE I SURRENDER SERIES
I Surrender
Surrender to Me
Surrendered
White
SOMETHING LIKE NORMAL SERIES
Something like Normal
Something like Redemption
Something like Love
A HARD LOVE ROMANCE
Dirty Dix
Wicked Dix
The Hunt
MEMORIES FROM YESTERDAY DUET
Forgetting You, Forgetting Me
Forgetting You, Remembering Me
SINS OF THE HEART DUET
Absinthe of the Heart
Defiance of the Heart
ALL THE PRETTY THINGS TRILOGY
Bad Saint
Fallen Saint
Forever My Saint
THE MONSTERS WITHIN DUET
Bullseye
Blowback
STANDALONE
Mr. Write
Chase the Butterflies
CONTENT WARNING: BLOWBACK is a DARK ROMANCE containing mature themes that might make some readers uncomfortable. It includes strong violence, possible triggers, and some dark and disturbing scenes.
This is the point of no return because now, it’s time you forgo what’s left of your soul…
Bull
Blood.
It’s what courses through our veins. It doesn’t matter what color we are, what god we believe in, or what language we speak; it’s the common denominator throughout the world.
It also feels fucking fantastic when it coats your knuckles because you’ve just busted your enemy’s nose.
The crowd erupts into bedlam when the fucker I just knocked out cold collapses to the floor with a thud. Blood smears his face and smothers my knuckles—see, I told you, we’re one and the same. Except the one asshole who is the exception to that rule.
He’s the reason I’m here. He’s the reason for all of it.
Not interested in congratulatory high fives, I push my way through the masses, eager to get the fuck out of this shithole that served as my fighting ring for the night. I nod to Dudley and Vincent, the two minions Stevie hired to help me out, on my way to the bathroom, silently ordering them to collect our winnings from the bookies and deliver them to Stevie.
They don’t dare skim off the top because they would pay with their lives.
Once the silent memo is noted, I continue my march until a pretty redhead blocks my path. I look at her, wordlessly demanding if she has a point, to make it fast.
Leaning in close, she cups her mouth and whispers in my ear, “My apartment isn’t far from here.”
She doesn’t need to clarify what exactly will happen at her apartment, but she could promise me all the booze and pussy in the world, and it wouldn’t be enough. There is only one person who can quench my thirst, this feral hunger inside, and she hates my fucking guts.
So, without mincing my words, I gently push her aside. “Thanks for the offer, darlin’, but I got someplace to be.”
I don’t stick around to wait for her response because honestly, I don’t care. It’s the reason I was stupid enough to care that I’m in this fucking situation in the first place. Shouldering open the bathroom door, I gesture for the two businessmen snorting lines off the sink to pack up their shit and bounce.
It doesn’t matter that I was the one who sold them the blow. Our transaction is over, which means they are nothing but yesterday’s news. They take the hint and quickly leave me alone.
Walking over to the barely standing lockers, I shove them aside and reach for my bag hidden behind them. This place used to be a car manufacturing plant, but now it’s used for anything illegal. The cops don’t bother patrolling because a dozen other buildings just like it are on the same block.
Taking off my skeleton face shield, I turn the faucet to cold and wash away the blood from my nose and busted lip. He got in a lucky shot. Wetting my hair, which has grown quite long on top, I slick the longer strands back to emphasize the shorter sides.
Stripping off my long-sleeved shirt and shorts, I step into my ripped jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. Once my socks are on and the laces on my motorcycle boots are tied, I reach for the silver chain from a secret pocket inside my bag.
The St. Christopher medallion catches the light as I slip it on. Placing it under my shirt, I ignore how this keepsake is associated with an asshole by the same name. However, he sure as shit is no saint.
Putting on a hoodie, I grab my shit and am out the door. I’m working tonight at The Pink Oyster, and if I don’t haul ass, I’ll be late—again. But this past month, that’s all I’ve been, thanks to selling my soul to the devil. Or in my case, devils.
Slipping the hood over my head, I make my way through the few stragglers, desperate to get the fuck out of here.
Beyond punishing weather means marching outside through thick snow as I search for my truck. I made a deal with Lotus to let me keep it in exchange for working extra without pay. It wasn’t her idea; it was mine. She’s come to learn I don’t like owing anyone anything, so she agreed.
Jumping into the truck, I don’t bother with the heat, because no matter how warm it is, I can’t shake this constant chill inside me. I know what it is. I try not to think about it, but it’s hard not to when I’m confronted with it every fucking day.
I pull into the dead of night when my cell chimes, hinting the Antichrist is calling.
“Fuck you,” I answer, gritting my teeth when loud laughter sounds over the speaker.
“Now, is that any way to talk to your boss?”
“You’re not my boss, asshole. You’re a dead man walking,” I correct, clenching the steering wheel.
Jaws ignores me. “I was calling to remind you about our meeting tomorrow.”
“How could I forget?” I mock.
“Just making sure. How’s my club looking? Is that bitch Lotus ready to get into a partnership with Stevie yet?”
“For the tenth fucking time, no. Are you hard of hearing?”
Silence.
“This is most disappointing. We can discuss it at our meeting.”
Our weekly meeting is the one
and only time I see Jaws, and it takes all my willpower not to stab him in the throat. But he always comes armed with ten guards flanking him because he doesn’t trust me.
Regardless of the fact we’ve agreed to play civil, he knows all it’ll take is for him to look at me the wrong way, and I will gladly end him. But I can’t.
Can’t is a word I don’t usually believe in, but lately, it’s been a fucking weight around my neck. I can’t kill the motherfucker who killed my brother because if I do, the only person who ever believed in me and took a chance on me will pay.
I can’t see her because if I do, again, she will suffer the consequences.
I can’t split town, cutting my losses, because if I do, Damian’s murderers will walk free. I can’t let that happen.
So, as you can see, I can’t do jack shit until I can come up with a better plan. I’m a prisoner once again. Although I’m no longer behind bars, I may as well be.
I’m playing both sides, so in layman’s terms, I’m a fucking snitch. Even though I “work” for Stevie, everything I learn gets relayed back to Jaws. He is using my intel to strengthen his empire, and only when his throne is high enough will he strike.
Until then, I am stuck being both their bitches.
When I hear a familiar voice in the background, my chill begins to thaw. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but when her light laughter fills my truck, I remind myself of the last time I saw her—the time when I threatened to kill her if she stood in my way.
So, it doesn’t matter what she’s saying because she’s not saying it to me, nor will she ever say anything to me again. I made sure of it.
Jaws muffles the phone, but the asshole ensures I can still hear him. “Mexican sounds good. I’ll make a reservation once I—”
Done being a pawn, I hang up, not interested in speaking to him unless I have to. He didn’t call to remind me about tomorrow. He called to rub my face in the fact he has something I want but will never have. He gets to play happy family while I sit on the outskirts, biding my time.
But by doing so, I’ve ensured Tiger’s safety and happiness, and she is worth the sacrifice. Clutching the medallion around my neck, I silently apologize to Damian for choosing her over him because essentially, that’s what I’ve done.
I could have already ended Jaws, not caring what that does to his sister, but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I can kill a thousand men without feeling a thing, but the thought of any harm coming to her…because of me—again, I can’t do that to her.
She is my weakness, and now, I must pay for it.
There are a lot of things I must pay for.
Just as I do every week, I park two blocks away and keep to the shadows. I’m not here for a social visit. In and out, just as I’ve been for the past month. It’s late, so everyone is locked inside, safe and sound, and away from a monster like me.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out an envelope stuffed full of hundred-dollar bills. After doing a quick sweep and seeing that the coast is clear, I continue my casual walk past a house. The lights are off.
Pulling the sides of my hood even farther over my downturned face, I quickly slide the envelope into the mailbox and continue my relaxed stroll. Only when I turn the corner do I quicken my pace and do a lap around the block, before taking the side streets back to my truck.
I jump in without delay, and the moment the engine roars to life, I slip back into the night. Peering into the rearview mirror, I see that the coast is clear.
Breathing steadily, I focus on the road and not on the money I just dumped into the mailbox of the family I destroyed. The Da Silvas have no idea I killed their father and husband. I stabbed him straight through the heart without an ounce of regret.
Seeing his lifeless body gave me a small sense of peace for a split second, before that peace was shattered when Tiger stumbled across what I’d done. The fear in her eyes instantly ruined my high. She ran from me. For the first time, she was actually genuinely scared, and she had every right to be. I was covered in another man’s blood.
Once she left, I quickly wrapped Kong’s body in the tarp I packed, then stuffed him into a drum. After wheeling his ass into the tailgate of my truck, I drove down to the Detroit River and dumped his weighted ass into it. But not before I took off his wedding ring, Rolex, and gold chain, and removed the wallet from his jacket pocket.
None of this went as planned, however. I had intended to torture him a little more, but I lost control. And then everything went to shit when Tiger appeared. I left the club a literal crime scene because even though I took care of the body, I left behind his blood. I was so panicked to get to Tiger that nothing else mattered. I didn’t care if someone found what I’d done; seeing Tiger and explaining what happened was more important than covering my tracks.
But it didn’t make a difference.
When I found out who she was, what I had done to her, and what I had to do, it changed everything.
I went back to the club and bleached it clean. I thought I would feel a sliver of relief that one of my brother’s killers was gone, but I didn’t. All I could think about was what I did to Tiger. Any celebration over killing Kong was suddenly put aside because I killed Hero, the only man Tiger ever loved.
When she confided in me about her past, about how her life could have turned out differently, I realized I was the reason her life was the way it was. Lachlan was going to propose to her. Her happily ever after had been within reach.
But the day I shot him was the day I shot her dreams to hell. I’m responsible for every tear she’s shed.
So that was part of the reason I agreed to Jaws’s terms. Staying away from her is the best thing I can do because yes, it’ll keep her safe. But it will also save her the heartache of having…feelings for her brother’s killer because my endgame hasn’t changed.
Both Jaws and Scrooge are on borrowed time. Jaws thinks he has the upper hand, but being complacent and cocky means he’ll eventually slip up and let his guard down. And I’ll be there with my sawed-off shotgun when he does.
Over the past month, I’ve been getting close to Stevie, but he’s paranoid. He has every right to be, especially since Kong “left” due to Jaws gunning for them all. I used that excuse as a ploy to get close to Stevie. He’s seen me fight and knows I can protect him, but there is a wolf among the sheep, waiting to strike.
I still have no idea what their beef is. Jaws made it clear they had history, but I just don’t know what that means—yet.
We’re making progress, but he’s still apprehensive to spill all the details. It’ll take time, and I realize that, but time means I will have to continue this charade, when all I want to do is see people die.
Kong’s death stitched together a small part of me, but it was at the expense of his family. I’ve stripped someone else of their father and lover. No matter what a corrupt asshole he was, he was still theirs.
So, this is what sparked the late-night visits to where he once lived.
The night of his death, I left his belongings and a note for his family in the mailbox. The note simply said he was gone and never coming back. For some reason, I needed to see them retrieve his belongings, and when they did, when I witnessed the genuine tears in his wife’s eyes, I knew I would be indebted to them for the rest of my life. Just as I am to Tiger.
The money I leave for them is a small token to say I’m not sorry I killed him, but rather, I’m sorry you loved the wrong man. It’s all technicalities, but I do this not because I’m a good person, but because it’s the right thing to do.
I may live for violence and bloodshed, but only to those who deserve it.
Parking my truck in the lot, I scope out my surroundings, before opening the door. It’s quiet once again, which is no surprise. Since Tiger left, the clients did too, and Lotus is weeks away from going bust. I thought Stevie would swoop in while she’s vulnerable, but he has yet to strike.
No security stands at the door, which means
Lotus had to let Pop go, my only backup guy. The club now only has one person standing watch over this place—me. And when I enter, I can see why she let him go.
Apart from two deadbeats throwing quarters on the stage, the place is a fucking ghost town.
Lotus is behind the bar, polishing glasses, while staring at the vacant club. When she sees me, she discreetly wipes away her tears. “Hi, Bull,” she says with a small smile.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like I needed the muscle. The place is dead.”
My eyes flick over to the stage. Someone was literally dead there weeks ago. A warm and fuzzy feeling overcomes me, but it’s gone a second later.
“I think it’s time to cut my losses and call the bank. I can’t make this month’s payment.”
She can’t do that. If she does, then Jaws will see it as a failure on my behalf, and the deal will be off. The things he’d do to Tiger, or more specifically, to her son…
Fuck this to hell.
“Let me help,” I offer. I’ve made good bank fighting, and I don’t need all of it.
“I can’t let you do that, Bull. But thank you.” I respect Lotus’s pride—I would be the same way—but Jaws has made it clear he wants this club, and if I don’t deliver, then Tiger pays.
Before I have a chance to insist, a creep walks up to the bar. I leave Lotus to serve him his beer and make my way through the club. Tawny is sweeping the dressing room floor when I enter. Her face has healed, but the fear behind her eyes lingers.
I have no doubt Jaws was behind her attack because at the time, I didn’t understand what the message was. But now I do. He’s been watching me the entire time because he’s been watching Tiger. When he saw how close we were getting, he wanted to make it clear I knew someone was onto me.
A classic case of wrong place, wrong time—again.
He saw my comings and goings with her, with Kong, with everyone. He was always two steps ahead, which explains how he was able to blackmail me this way. I almost fell into his lap. Irony or fate? I have yet to decide.