Page 61 of Kick

“You sure you’re ready for that, darlin’?” Prez asks.

Indie glares at him, her eyes glinting with bloodlust. It’s a good look on her, but I know better than any that that kind of hunger comes at a cost. “I’m sure.”

“Babe, you don’t need to go. I can put that fucker to ground and you never have to see him again.”

Turning to me, she frowns. “I have to do this. I thought you understood that?”

“I do,” I say, avoiding her angry gaze. “Doesn’t mean I have to fuckin’ like it.”

“I need to do this, Daniel.”

“You can’t take the bike. Too noisy; too fuckin’ showy. Cops are already watching the club for her.”

“What do you mean they’re watching the club?”

“They’re watching every fuckin’ club. That’s why I wanted her arse inside and away from the fuckin’ windows.”

“I don’t get it,” I say. “If he knew where she was why didn’t he just bring the whole motherfuckin’ squadron in here and snatch her up?”

“Because then I’d be in the system, and he couldn’t have me for himself,” Indie whispers. “I could have spoken up and pinned my disappearance on him. If was safer to wait me out.

“Makes sense,” I agree, because what else is there to fuckin’ say?

“There’s a Dodge Charger in the garage,” Prez says. He walks around the centre island to the pantry and opens the door. Near the light switch sits a key holder with about ten different coloured keys on it. He lifts a black fob from the hook and hands it to me, reluctantly. “If you destroy my favourite car, I’ll put you to ground, Newbie.”

“I’ll treat her like she’s my own,” I say, smiling at him.

“Yeah, I seen that piece-of-shit bike you drive, you little fuck.”

“A Night Rod Special is not a piece of shit, Prez.”

“No, a Night Rod Special isn’t, but yours sure fuckin’ is.” Prez shakes his head and turns to Indie. “Make sure he doesn’t drive like a maniac.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“Got you here in one piece, didn’t I? Come on. You need a jacket and then we’ll head out.”

“We’re gonna do it in broad daylight?”

“No, we’re gonna do it tonight. But we can’t just walk in there and start shooting the motherfucker. We have to watch, make sure no one is around to witness it. We have to do this shit right or I’m gonna wind up in jail, and you’re gonna be sent home, right where he can find you again.”

She lets out a deep, shuddering breath.

“Little faith, Spitfire. He’ll be dead by the end of the day, and then you’ll be free to live the rest of your life. Move to another city, or another fuckin’ country. You’ll be free.”

Tears well up in her eyes and she nods. “Yeah, why don’t I just move to fucking Ibiza and forget any of this ever happened.” She storms up the stairs and I’m left wondering what the fuck I said to make her so fucking antsy. I’m not expecting her to forget what they did to her. She could live a lifetime and never forget that, but Jesus Fucking H Christ, if it were me, I wouldn’t ever wanna set foot in that city again.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re an idiot,” Prez says with a laugh.

“What?”

“What?” he says. “Are you fuckin’ missing a couple brain cells there, Kid?”

“Fuck you.”

“The bitch is probably feelin’ a little bit fuckin’ vulnerable. She’s been abducted, tortured, raped, mutilated, she’s lost teeth and fucking years off of her life in a few short weeks and you fuck her, you make her feel as if she finally has somethin’ good and stable to fuckin’ hang on to, and then you go and tell her to move to another country?”

Country comes back from the gym, hauling another load of shit that belongs to the two dead guys. “Didn’t your dad teach you nothin’ bout women, boy? They’re strong as a brick shithouse and fragile as a flower, all the same time.”

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