Page 107 of Declan's Dove

“What’s he doing in here?” I ask, pointing toward Paul Halloway, who is also strung up from the ceiling in his underwear. He’s knocked clean out. “And why is he unconscious?”

“That would be my doing,” Mack says. “Kayce’s men dropped him off a little while ago. I had the prospects string him up for me. But when I came down here, he wouldn’t stop whining, the little bitch. So, I put him out.”

“He’s been out a long time, Mack. You sure he’s still breathing?”

Mack shrugs. “Should be. I didn’t give him too big of a dose.”

“Of what?”

“Basically, it’s Valium.” He says it like it’s the equivalent of an Advil or Tylenol.

“How the fuck did you get that?” I have to know. I know his wife is a nurse, but it’s not like Lisa to steal from her work.

“The good doctor had the syringe on him when the guys dropped him off. Apparently, he was waiting inside Violet’s apartment for her to come home after she was released this morning. You know, to be supportive and drug her ass while he had his way with her.” Mack’s eyes narrow, and a sinister smile curves across his lips. “I thought it was only fair we return the favor.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“You have about—” He checks his watch. “Another thirty minutes from what Lisa told me. Carry on.” He waves his hand in the sheriff's direction.

“How many ribs did you break on Violet’s body?” I don’t wait for the answer. I punch his ribs with the brass knuckles repeatedly, switching from his left to his right ribs. The satisfying crack rents the air. He screams and curses, but none of it registers. None of it matters. This piece of shit hurt my Dove, repeatedly. He deserves every bit of what’s coming to him.

“Cut him down.” Mack and Hawk lower Swanson to the floor. His arms drop and he falls on all fours, spitting on the ground. He reaches up to cradle his ribs, and I take the opportunity to kick him until he falls over.

“You’re wasting your time,” he spits out. “I’ve got nothing to tell you. Kill me already.”

“Oh, we aren’t looking for information. We have what we need. This is just for our pleasure. For everything you’ve put Violet and Carter through.”

“That good-for-nothing bitch. I never should’ve married her. Could never do anything right. Had a tight little cunt, though. And the sounds she would make when I’d choke her almost to the point of passing out …”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Three guns. Three shots. All aimed at his head and torso. When I look around the room and find my brothers with their guns drawn, all aimed at this piece of shit, I’m overwhelmed with emotion.

Mack, Jake, and Gabe all put their weapons away, waiting. I don’t know if they want me to say something or what.

“No one wants to hear what that sick fuck had to say. Honestly, his voice was starting to grate on my nerves. Hurting my ears,” Jake says. I nod, not able to say anything yet.

A low moan sounds from Halloway. Something comes over me, and I make a quick, impulsive decision. Grabbing Mack’s favored karambit, I walk over and stab it between the ribs in an upward motion, striking the heart and ending his life. I watch as the blood drips from his mouth and the gaping hole left by my blade. I don’t move until I see all life leave his eyes.

“I’m going to get cleaned up and then I’m taking my family home.”

Gabe nods. “Someone get the prospects down here to clean this shit up.”

I head upstairs, then down the hall and slip into my room, not expecting to see Violet sitting on my bed waiting for me. Her eyes are wide and her face pales. I know what she’s looking at. My hands are covered in blood. My shirt soaked with a mixture of their blood and my sweat.

I don’t know what to say. I’m almost afraid to say anything. There are no words that will make my killing someone easier, and after all the violence she’s seen and how hard she’s tried to avoid it, I’m afraid this may be her breaking point.

“What happened, Declan?” Her voice is soft, but she doesn’t sound angry.

“It’s done.” I don’t explain the what, as I’m sure she knows. I told them he wouldn’t hurt them again, and I meant it.

Her eyes meet mine, and she nods. Reaching for my wrist, she pulls me into the bathroom. I follow, waiting to see what she’s going to do. She seems both frightened and determined, but I’m still not sure of what. Is she frightened of me? Determined to get me out of the room so she can bolt?

She reaches to turn on the shower water. When she is satisfied with the temperature, she turns to me and begins pulling off my shirt, lifting it up my chest and over my head, dropping it to the floor behind me. Her hands trail gently down my torso, caressing every ridge and plane until she reaches the top of my jeans. She undoes my belt, then my button, sliding the zipper down. My rock-hard cock is relieved to have the restrictive metal out of the way.

Her soft hands reach around the band of my underwear, and she tugs them and my jeans down my legs until they hit the floor. Tapping my calves, she nudges me to step out, still not saying a word. I step out and wait.

She pulls my hand and opens the shower door, ushering me inside. I reach back to close the door, thinking she’s done, only to find her removing her own shirt, followed by her bra. She makes quick work of removing her jeans and panties.

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