Page 78 of StoryTeller's Tale

It’s time to find out. Looking like I’m going to punch with my right, I let my equally powerful left fist fly. I’ve caught him out as he blocked the wrong side, and, with the impetus behind it, have winded him for sure.

But he recovers fast, coming at me with a sharp right, then left, then a kick which would have emasculated me had my evasion not been fast.

As his momentum slows for him to gather his breath, I don’t give him the chance and launch myself forward once more. Using a roundhouse kick, I go straight for his head, then when he crashes to the floor, I let him have the full force of my knuckle dusters in his face.

From somewhere he produces a fucking knife which would have sliced into my stomach had I not been so fast. Instead, it takes a chunk out of my arm.

There weren’t many rules, but this was a no weapon fight. Fuck knows where he got that knife from. His cheating makes me see red. Ignoring the possible damage to my hand, I grab hold of the blade and tear it away. It flies to the far side of the ring and Knuckles staggers to his feet and starts moving as if to reclaim it.

I kick his legs out from under him, seeing him go down like a log. I take the split second he’s winded to recover the knife for myself, then throw my full weight on him, twisting his head up and back, baring his neck to me.

“Kill him. Kill him.” A chant starts from the small crowd.

I have no desire to linger, but I want Knuckles to know I hold his life in my hands. I let him see both the blade and the intention in my eyes.

He might be my enemy, he might have captured my woman and worked in a trade I dislike, but in that moment, I have respect for him as he shows no fear, only an acceptance, and while he could, he doesn’t waste breath begging for his life.

I take a firm hold of his head, bare his neck, and slice across with the blade.

His body jerks and he gurgles. His hands come up to scrabble at his neck, but he knows there’s no hope and his eyes lock with mine as his life drains away.

When he’s gone, I pull myself to my knees, holding my hand to my damaged arm.

“Anyone got a needle and thread?” I ask.

“I’ll sort you out.”

As I slide myself down from the ring, I glare at Mex. “Not in the mood to be fucked with, man.”

“Hey.” He raises his hands, looking as hurt as a man with a smirk can. “I was a medic.”

“He’ll see you right,” Shotgun reassures me. “Though I advise a stiff drink. He’s not known for being particularly gentle.”

“Fuck you, VP,” Mex retorts, but his grin, under the circumstances, is chilling.

“What about the prospect?” I ask, as much to delay being alone with the guy who’s going to be stabbing me where I already hurt.

“Leave him to me,” Buzz says. “I’ll damage him a bit, then we’ll drop him off.”

“And remember to send that video to Scorpion,” I remind them, as Mex looks impatient to lead me away. I want the Dominators to know Knuckles had had a fair fighting chance, and, due to his cheating, it was actually me at a disadvantage.

“Go get sorted,” Strider tosses, seeming to lose interest in me. “Leave us to sort this mess out and deal with the trash.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

SHERI

Once I’d seen Jake come back unharmed and Knuckles and the Dominator prospect being dragged through the clubroom, I’d breathed a huge sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure what would happen to Knuckles, but I had confidence whatever it was, he wouldn’t be coming after me anymore. I wouldn’t be shedding any tears if they killed him. Without him, the world would be a far better place.

It’s over. I can get back to normal. Except, my new normal appears to be that I’ve hitched my wagon to that of a biker and am pregnant with his child. On top of that, I’ve agreed to relocate to Arizona.

Jasmine, clearly knowing how to predict the men’s needs after doing whatever they’ve gone off to do, is behind the bar getting drinks lined up, ready for when they return. I sit nursing a soda. Now I’ve seen Jake safe and sound my racing heartbeat can return to normal, and I can picture a future with him in it at last. My mind whirls with all the changes that have happened recently. I’d question I’m doing the right thing by agreeing to go away with him, but honestly, what have I got to stay for in Texas? I’m growing a new life within me. Maybe it’s time for a fresh start. I’d hate myself forever if I never gave Jake a chance.

My lips curve. Maybe he will turn out to be like one of the panty-melting, home-loving, bikers in the fiction world I love, and might settle down to give me a happily ever after.

He promised he would.

I want to smack myself around the face sometimes. It’s not his fault that I find it so hard to believe he could ever put me first. I’m loading him up with my own insecurities and that’s my burden to bear.

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