Page 49 of Living Without

What we were about to do wouldn’t be pretty.

* * * *

Stoke’s hand came down on my shoulder before I opened the door to where the fuckhead Baxter was being held. Looking back, I saw Stoke’s eyes were on his son’s, and he asked, “Last time, you sure you wanna be involved with this?”

Josh straightened to his full height, and the guy was tall. He nodded. “Yeah, Dad. I’m in.”

“Right.” Stoke tipped his chin up. “If you wanna leave at any time, you do it, and no one will think any less of you.”

“I’m good,” Josh stated.

Stoke glanced to me and nodded. I opened the door and entered. Baxter sat on a cot in the corner of the room, with Beast and Knife standing guard near the door. As soon as we entered, they left with Knife saying, “Have fun.”

I watched as Baxter stood. His eyes and posture held no fear. I would soon change that. If anything, the man looked bored.

“Your cousin was Cameron,” Stoke said.

“I see my sweetheart has been talking.” He smirked. “Yeah, he was, and he left me a note saying what he was about to do. I didn’t get it in time to help, but if I had, let’s say things would have been different. The whore he wanted would have been his, and I would have taken some lives of the Hawks MC, instead ofhisbeing taken.”

Stoke snorted. “That’s bullshit. You both would have failed, but I wish to fuck you had received that note earlier and tried, then you wouldn’t have had your hands on my daughter.”

“Didn’t know whose daughter she was. I’d hoped she was connected to Dodge in a way. Still, no matter, it fuckin’ worked out. I got to have a taste of her.” Stoke’s arm came out to stop my approach. I wanted to carve the guy’s guts out. Baxter chuckled. “How’s the business going? I heard a few closed down after some fires.”

Stoke shrugged. “They’re fine actually. Helped us get a start on some renovations, which was something we’ve wanted to do for a long time. So you helped us.”

He didn’t like hearing that. His jaw clenched, his body tensing, and his eyes narrowing on Stoke.

A knock sounded on the door behind us. Josh moved to answer it, and while the other person closed the door again, Josh turned back around to us. In his hands, I saw our tools. I smiled.

Pliers, a baseball bat, knives. It was time to get to work.

I bit back a laugh when I glimpsed fear in Baxter’s widening eyes, before he could school his features into a bored look.

“Josh, get the chair over there,” I ordered, pointing to the steel chair in the corner. Josh moved to drag it into the centre of the room. “You gonna sit?” I asked Baxter.

He snorted. “Why make it so easy for you.”

A clatter of shit brought my attention to Josh dumping our tools on the floor, all except the baseball bat. “You know, Dad, I should really get back into baseball. I kinda miss it,” he said plainly, while swinging the bat around and around in his hand.

“Any time is a good time for a practice, son.” Stoke grinned.

“Cool.” Josh smiled at his dad, and fuck, the kid was fast. He strode to Baxter, pulled back his arm, and swung hard, slamming the bat into Baxter’s knee.

“Fuck!” Baxter screamed as he hit the floor, his hands cradling his knee. Josh pulled the bat high over his head, and the fuckin’ thing made a swishing sound as he swung it down fast onto Baxter’s shins. His cry of agony filled the room, and hell, it was music to my ears.

Though I wanted more.

Walking to them, I grabbed Josh’s bat before he swung it again and shook my head. Leaning down, I lifted Baxter and dragged him to the chair. “I want to get his shit done so I can get back to your sister,” I told Josh who didn’t look happy I’d stopped him. His brows were drawn down, his chest pumping hard with each breath in and out. The adrenaline had kicked in. “Grab the pliers,” I said. “Stoke, you hold the fucker down.”

“Right, Vicious,” Stoke replied and came forward. He stood behind the chair. His arms curled around Baxter’s chest, holding down his arms.

As soon as Josh slapped the pliers into my hand, I took hold of Baxter’s wrist. “Josh, help your dad hold him. The fucker is gonna squeal like a monkey.”

“Stop, fuck. Don’t. Jesus,” Baxter cursed as Josh leaned over and applied pressure to Baxter’s arm.

Sliding my hand down to grab his index finger, I said, “What we’re gonna do, you’ll wish you were dead. Though nothing we do will satisfy me enough for what you did to my woman.” I laid the tip of the pliers to the tip of his fingernail, and slowly lifted the pliers, his fingernail coming with it. Baxter’s screams would have been heard out in the hall. Only when I did a third finger did his screams turn into whimpers and pleas.

“Josh, a knife,” I demanded.

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