Page 66 of Lesson In Forgiveness

It was a good shot for a sucker punch, she thought as she stumbled back a step, the suitcase hitting the floor with a thud. Knuckles to her cheekbone, impacting hard enough to snap her head around. Pain detonated through her skull, popping behind her eyes until she lost her vision for a second.

“Thought it was you,” a familiar voice crooned. “Saw you sneaking up the stairs and thought to myself, it’s about time someone brought that uppity cunt some payback.”

Tabitha shook off the pain, waggling her jaw as she rolled her shoulders. She tasted blood, her own fucking blood, and it infuriated her. A snarl rumbled in her chest as she turned her head to the door and glared at the man blocking her way out. “Mangle, did I not teach you what happens to heavy-handed assholes when they beat on women?”

He wasn’t an attractive man by any means. Even if he took a shower and dressed in clean clothes, it wouldn’t make any difference to what he was beneath the skin; dirty, evil, rotten. A lot like his teeth, she mused when he bared them at her in a wolfish smile.

“Oh, did you ever. My balls were fucking black for weeks. That’s why when I saw your tight ass scurrying up the stairs, I went and got me some reinforcement. See, I made some new friends. Friends who don’t take shit from some jumped-up whore without giving a whole load in return.” Grinning, he reached into the pocket of his ratty jacket and pulled out a set of knuckle dusters.

Big, thick, brass.

The kind the mob used to smash a person’s face in until it was nothing but bone crumbs and blood.

He slid them on, crossing the threshold and stepping to the side. Cold green eyes, alive with sadistic pleasure, roamed over her as four massive hulks bulled their way into her place.

“Oh, a party.” Pretending to check her watch, Tabitha shrugged. “Don’t really have time to play, but I guess I can oblige.” She feathered her fingers over the swelling rapidly consuming her cheekbone. “Seeing as you asked so nicely.”

One of the beefcakes snickered. “Got some balls on her, don’t she?”

They all wore gang tattoos, she noted idly. Left hand side of the neck, two inches below the ear. Not one she recognized, but Mangle associating with any gang at all did not bode well for the women in the neighborhood.

“Mine are much bigger than yours, I assure you.” Flexing her fingers, she closed them into fists. “I’d give you a chance to leave, but if you’re stupid enough to let this moron con you into coming here, you’re too stupid to take the warning and go.”

“Gonna cut her up real pretty,” one of the other goons spat, pulling out a short knife with a wide blade. “She don’t need arms and legs for fucking.”

An itch started between her shoulder blades as she watched the other three draw their weapons slowly. She was up against the knuckle dusters, the hunting knife, a nasty-looking switchblade, several feet of thin chain, and an extending baton that was going to hurt like a fucking bitch.

Of course, she could put at least two of them down like dogs with a bullet to the brain before the others tackled her, but honestly, where was the fun in that? Besides, while the residents of the building probably wouldn’t give a shit about gunshots going off, she couldn’t guarantee that the rest of the block would cover their ears and go about their business.

The Beretta wouldn’t get its christening ceremony today, more’s the pity.

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she muttered, “The crazy whore is going to war with five cowardly little pricks. Dead men walking, no more talking, send them home in boxes without their dicks.”

“The fuck?”

Tabitha smiled, letting what raged inside her shine in her eyes. It really was a freeing experience, giving herself free rein against bigger, stronger opponents. They all outweighed her by at least one-fifty, and the smallest of them towered over her by a foot.

The guy with the switchblade attacked first, using his size and weight as intimidation. The blade swung, fast and admirably accurate, at her face. She jerked back, bringing her arm up to smack into his, curling hers around it and spinning herself into him. As her back rapped into his chest, she brought his arm over her breasts, bending and hoisting him over to land on his back.

The knife clattered to the floor.

Fire whipped over her shoulders, bringing memories of Dominic surging to the surface. Even through her clothes, the baton bit deep, raining down blows on her in quick succession.

She dropped to her knees, slamming her elbow into the throat of the man on the floor, and snatched up the switchblade. She liked the weight of it, the balance, and tested it as she spun it in her hand and drove it through the boot nearest to her.

With one man fighting to breathe and another pinned to the floor, she let the pained cries and wheezing breaths fuel her bloodlust. After all, this was what she’d been created for, wasn’t it?

More blows hammered against her back, her sides. She took a hit to the hip that made her want to curl into a ball and scream, but there wasn’t time to dwell on the pain. Rolling to the left, she came up onto her feet, narrowly missing another sucker punch from Mangle. The brass knuckles whispered along her jawline, catching her ear.

Teeth bared, Tabitha struck him three times—nose, throat, stomach—and slammed her knee into his face as he bent over double.

“What the fuck is this bitch on?”

“I’ve got the cunt.”

Cold metal dropped over her head, hooking around her throat under her jaw. The links of the chain bit into her skin as she was lifted off her feet, her neck taking the brunt of her weight, cutting off her air.

Kicking madly, she battered her heels against the thug’s knees and shins, but he used his leverage to tighten the chain. Feeling her lungs begin to strain, she lashed out when Mangle came at her, blood streaming from his nose and mouth, booting him hard enough to save him some money on dental work.

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