Page 53 of Clover

My eyelids are getting heavy, and everything in the room is out of focus, like a kaleidoscope spinning the world into colorful shapes and fractures. I just need to close my eyes for a minute. When I open them again, everything is just as much out of focus, and my head feels like a helium balloon.

Weren’t there three girls before? And where did the other security go?

“Where the fuck is everyone?” Another black-clad figure walks through the room. I think it’s my head of security, but I really couldn’t tell him from a gorilla right now. The figure is walking away from me, so that’s good, right?

My eyes are so heavy, and in the time it takes me to blink again, which must have been a lot longer than half a second because now I’m alone. No strippers, no security.

What the hell is going on?

I need to stand to find my gun and find those stupid fucks I hired, but my body isn’t listening to me. Instead, it sits limply on the couch. Arms resting at my side, I can’t even twitch my finger.What the fuck was in that molly?

A moment or twenty minutes later—I really can’t tell how much time is passing now—another black figure enters my line of sight. I can’t bring them into focus. They’re wearing a hood and face mask. Completely covered in black head to toe, including gloves. This probably isn’t good. There’s nothing I can do in my current state but stare and speak.

“Who the fuck are you? Doesn’t matter. Get the fuck out before you regret it.” Considering I’m as threatening as a coma patient at the moment, they don’t listen and continue their slow, purposeful stalking toward me. When they finally get within ten feet, a shiny piece of metal in their hand comes into focus. A knife. Large, jagged along one edge and curved slightly at the tip.

That’s when I see their eyes. Deep dark blue against pale white skin is all I can make out. Everything is still shifting in and out of focus.

“Why the fuck can’t I move?” I mutter to myself, not so much expecting the hooded figure to answer. A glean shimmers in their eyes. I have a feeling they’re grinning under that face covering. They remind me of a ninja. Everything inside my head is jumbled, and nothing is making sense.

“Who are you?” The figure kneels down at my feet cocking its head to one side, watching me. Raising the gloved hand, not holding the knife, they pull the black fabric down off their nose. Revealing their face, but whatever they slipped me has me seeing double and spinning.

“I’m your executioner.” A distant, distorted voice says. I don’t think they’re distorting their voice—I think my brain is. Forcing concentration, I will my vision to still and focus so I can see who the fuck thinks they can threaten me. The world actually does as I command, and their face comes into view clear as day. The large knife held between us, dripping red.

Is that blood? Is it my blood? Am I bleeding?

I don’t have time to ponder these pointless questions because I know that face.

“I know you.” The words are garbled and filled with liquid sounding like I’m gargling water while I speak. A cold chill runs through my entire body, and the overwhelming need to sleep washes over me. I’m so tired and cold. If I could just rest a minute, then I can get up.

Everything grows quiet and cold. I can’t see my penthouse living room anymore. The music has gone silent. Then the figure comes into crystal clear focus inches from my face, grinning a wicked smile.

“Colton.”

Chapter 29

Phoenix

Returning to work at the shop has been great and also not. I would much rather be at the bar with Clover. Sitting drinking a draft beer and watching her sweet ass sway as she pours drinks and chats with customers. But my cousin says it’s unhealthy to obsess. I told him to shove it. Until Clover agreed with him, saying that I should get back to work. She’s got plenty of backup, and when Braxton’s guard delivered that collar, she held her own, and my family was there to support her.

She was particularly horny and demanding that night when I got home. Practically mauling me the second I walked in the door. We christened the pool table that night. I’ve never wanted someone so badly that I couldn’t wait to get inside her long enough to get into my room. There was no way we were going to make it very far that night. Remembering the way she lunged at me and stripped me down to nothing within seconds has my blood pumping south.Maybe we could do that again tonight? Although I’d like to avoid the balls this time. They got way too close for comfort.

Hearing them clack around from the momentum of my thrusting was oddly arousing. Hearing the actual effects of my dick pounding into Clover. We had started propped against the side. Clover’s legs tightly locked around my waist and ended completely sprawled on the green top. Balls rolling into things they really shouldn’t, but fuck was it worth it.

I should really stop thinking about fucking Clover while working. It’s extremely distracting cause now I have a wooden log in my pants that might frighten the guy I’m tattooing if I were to stand up. I don’t think he would appreciate me getting turned on while inking his chest.

I’m working on a glorious piece of art, a full-headed lion—mane and all. Fur is fucking hard and requires a lot of concentration and focus. Shaking my mental images of my girl coming under me and around me, I return my attention to the lion on Leo’s chest. He’s one of the many who work for the Mckinney’s farm, growing weed and handling operations.

As soon as I’m back in the groove and my stiffy is gone, Arrow bursts into my private room and blurts.

“Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“About Braxton.” I stop my tattoo gun and turn slowly to face Arrow. At the moment, there are only two things that boil my blood, Clover naked and writhing, and Braxton’s name in my presence.

“What about Braxton?” I more growl than speak the words. Arrow looks at Leo in my seat then back to me.

“He’s dead.”

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