Page 60 of Kick

What the fuck has this woman done to me?

That alone should make me want to punish her, to hurt her, to fuck the shit outta her tight little cunt and feel her break beneath my hands, but it doesn’t.Jesus Christ. I’m like every other fuckin’ idiot stupid enough to get attached to someone, to care about someone other than myself.

Prez was right. I’m fuckin’ pussy whipped.

“Biker?” she asks in a whisper. “Is this really happening—oh god, right there. Don’t stop doing that.”

“Yeah, babe,” I grunt. It’s no fucking picnic trying to hit that sweet spot of hers over and over without losing my shit altogether. “It’s really fuckin’ happenin’.”

“What are we doing? What happens when the water runs cold?” She bites on her lip and I spear her with my gaze, forcing her to stay with me, though I can tell already how much she wants to let go.

I’m not dumb enough to think this is the kinda shit that lasts forever. How can it? I abducted her. I held her captive. I drugged her, hurt her. I did shit I had no right to do because she wasn’t mine. She’ll come to see that one day for what it is. She’ll come to see that anything between us was, and can only be a beautiful lie. I’m no Prince Fuckin’ Charming. I’m an arsehole. I’m cruel, and I’m a criminal with no moral compass. Or at least that’s who I was. I have no fuckin’ clue who I am right now.

“Then we shut the water off and keep fuckin’ in the bedroom,” I say, thrusting in a little harder, a little faster, until she’s throwing her head back against the glass and panting like a fuckin’ bitch on heat. I kiss her neck, her jaw, working her into a frenzy with my lips and tongue, and my cock that’s buried balls’ deep, and then she surrenders. Body and fuckin’ soul, she gives me all of her as that tight pussy milks my dick with her release. And it’s fucking glorious.

Her surrender is the only religion I need.

It’s 10:00am when I hear the van and the roar of bikes as Prez and the rest of the boys pull in the drive. Indie’s sleeping soundly so I slip my arm out from beneath hers and ease off the bed, shoving my legs into my jeans and throwing on a fresh shirt. I snag yesterday’s clothes from the pile on the floor, along with Indie’s. They’ll all have to be burned. She was covered in blood and brain matter when I threw her in the shower last night. I shake my head. I really need to stop shooting fuckers at close range in front of her.

I head downstairs and meet Prez as he’s entering the kitchen. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah. Indie was a little shaken up, and the old coot wouldn’t take any of the morphine last night. I haven’t seen him this morning, so he’s probably dead by now.”

“Speak for your fuckin’ self, you little fuck,” Country shouts from the hall. I turn to see him exiting the gym, arms full of loot: wallets, police baton, and One Eye’s cut.

I turn to Prez. “Jesus, the fucker doesn’t die, and he has supersonic hearing?”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin Batman, kid. I’ve already been for a run, taken out a couple bad guys, and made Gotham City safe again this morning while you lazy bastards slept the day away. Though by the way you two was screaming last night, can’t say I blame ya.”

I roll my eyes. Country sets his loot down on the kitchen bench and begins emptying out the wallets. “You mind if I keep this shit, Prez?”

“Baton and gun gotta stay with the body, Country. They’re police issue; we don’t want no one asking questions about where they came from. Burn the cards, but you can have anything else.”

“What do we do with the bodies?” I ask.

“I got a chainsaw out back. We’ll chop ’em up, weight ’em, and dump them in the dam. It’s far enough away for no one to go lookin’.”

“Even One Eye?

“He’s a traitor, ain’t he?”

“And Squeals?”

“I gotta go tell the kid’s poor girl that he died protecting an innocent woman. He wasn’t patched, but he’ll have a club funeral. I’ll see to that. I already called Shady. He’ll be here later to pick up Squeals’ body.” Shady was another freelance healthcare practitioner that the club had on speed dial—if by health care you meant freak of nature who liked to play with dead things. He worked the crematory near the clubhouse, and for the right amount of money he’d happily fire up the machine after hours. We call him Shady, ’cause he’s shady as fuck. What other man do you know that sits alone in a crematorium jacking off to the scent of burning bodies?

Come to think of it, Crazy would probably go in for that shit.

As though he’s reading my mind Prez says, “I got Crazy out in the paddock setting the cop car alight. Fucker’s like a kid on Christmas morning.”

I hadn’t seen the cop car last night, which means he must have parked it at the back of the house while I was out.

“Listen, kid. We searched the Cop’s house this morning. Found a secret room hidden beneath the garage. He had a fuckin’ shrine dedicated to your old lady. Pictures, hair, teeth, video tapes stacked all neatly in a fuckin’ row. I haven’t seen anything’ like it before. And she wasn’t the only one. There’s a fuckin’ slew of bitches they been doing this stuff to. Sickest fuckin’ shit I ever saw. I removed any trace of her, got our fuckin’ tape back too.” He takes a deep breath and then says, “I found your priest. He’s yours if you want it. Otherwise I’ll pull Tank from junkie duty and send him—”

“I want him,” I say, resolutely. The need to destroy this fucker burns through my veins like acid. I want so badly to meet him face to face and put him to ground knowing he hurt what was mine.

“You have to take me with you,” Indie says from the lounge room. I didn’t even see her come down the stairs. “You promised me, Daniel.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say, shaking my head as she comes into the room wearing another of Mia’s expensive outfits, this one a silk sundress. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in a dress, and I immediately wanna take her back upstairs and remove it.

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