Page 49 of Kick

When she’s done drenching my shoulder she slides off of me and lies on her side in the hollow of my arm. My hand rests against her hip, and her thigh is hooked over mine … and my heart is skipping like a fuckin’ schoolgirl’s.

How the fuck did we get here?

I not only managed to screw shit up completely by taking her instead of putting a bullet in her head, but I went from being her captor, her tormentor, to what? A fuckin’ boyfriend? Her old man? Her saviour?

Jesus Christ, I need my head checked.

I don’t know how to process any of this shit. Her tired body sags against me, and sleep takes her over as I hold her and breathe in her sweet clean scent with her hair all up in my face. I stare at the ceiling and wonder where the fuck I go from here. ’Cause any way I look at it, I’m completely fucked.

As the high wears off for the third time tonight, the truth of our situation settles in. I’ve been selfish. I mean, I’m always selfish, but I’ve been particularly selfish with her safety, and that’s not really a luxury I have with a clubhouse full of bikers gunnin’ for this chick’s head and dead Angels everywhere. It’ll be sunrise soon, and we need to get her out of here. Propelled by new fears for her safety, I pull her close and kiss her forehead and then I jump up from the mattress and tear around the room, gathering together her things.

“We need to get you out of here.”

“Jesus, Kick. You couldn’t at least wait until my heart rate slows before you kick me out?”

“If they find you here, they’ll kill you.”

“Not if I get to them first.”

“You’re not still going through with this crazy fuckin’ vengeance plan, are you?” I spit.

She snaps. I’ve never seen this kind of reaction from her. She motherfuckin’ snaps and lunges at me. “They raped me. They busted up my face and took things from me, and you can’t even imagine what that feels like.”

“I was there,” I grab onto her arm and yank her towards me. “I don’t have to fuckin’ imagine. I saw every goddamned second of it.”

“And yet you still expect me to let them live with what they’ve done?”

“I expect you to be smart,” I say. “Every single fuckin’ brother in this club can outwit, outshoot you and overpower you. Going in there half-cocked will only get you killed. Right now the only thing keeping you alive is that Slayer supposedly has you in hiding. That angle is gonna be shot to fucking shit if I can’t get to the security tapes before Prez does. Not to mention the line of bodies you’ve left in your wake. We need to get you out of the city. I may know of someone who can help, but the only way we’re gonna make it there is if we get you outta here before the rest of the club wakes.”

“I’m not leaving until I’ve looked that motherfucker in the face and put a bullet between his eyes.”

“No, you’re not. You shoot him, you’ll be dead within seconds. Silencer or not, Princess, you got lucky, but that pile of bodies in the club lounge isn’t gonna go unnoticed for long. Every motherfuckin’ brother in this club is gonna turn this house upside down to find the killer. And they’re gonna start with this fuckin’ room, because my loyalties have already been called into question. You have to cut your losses. You gotta get the fuck outta here.”

“The only thing I’m going to be cutting is his balls off. I’m gonna start with your prez, and finish with the big guy.”

“Tank didn’t touch you,”

“He didn’t stop them either.”

“If he’d put his hands on you, I would have killed him myself.”

“Like you killed the rest of them?” she snaps. “How can you share a clubhouse with them, knowing what they did to me?”

“What fuckin’ choice do I have?”

“You could leave? You could have left when you helped me, and never came back.”

I laugh, but it’s a vile, empty sound. “You don’t get it. There’s no leaving the club.”

“People leave my father’s club all the time. When they want out, they hand in their patch.”

“Your father isn’t my fuckin’ prez, bitch. No Angel hands in their wings; they have ’em stripped, burned off, or blacked out, but no one ever fuckin’ walks away a free man. Betrayal comes at a price, Princess: a body bag and a one-way ticket to hell. The best you and I can hope for is you making it out of here in one piece. So get fuckin’ dressed and let me get you out of here.”

“I’m not leaving until he’s begging for forgiveness on his knees.”

“Let’s get one thing fuckin’ straight. If that’s what you’re after than you’re never getting outta here. He is not gonna beg or apologise for ripping your life apart. He will destroy you, and there’s not a goddamned thing you can do about it. You got off lucky, Princess. Plenty of girls been where you were and they never got to leave because they never had someone to fuckin’ save them.” I pick up the short leather skirt and the crop top she had on that exposed half of her breasts and I throw them at her. “Now, get dressed. Next time I have to tell you, I put you over my fuckin’ shoulder and carry you outta here, and that’s gonna draw a lot more attention than you strutting out in that skirt and wig and pretending like you’re someone else. You got me?”

She doesn’t say anything, but the tears runnin’ down her cheeks mean she doesn’t have to. I cross the room and attempt something I’ve never really done before; I comfort her. Or I try to. I don’t know, I probably just look like an insensitive fuckrod, but I take her in my arms, I grasp her chin in my hand and force her face up to mine.

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