Page 80 of Chief's Addiction

“Been thinking about this shit,” he said, his voice gruff. “And as much as I want to rip your fucking throat out for touching my sister...” He paused, jaw working. “I shouldn’t stand in the way.”

I stared at him, surprised as shit at the change in his tune. Not even twenty-four hours ago he was determined to keep me away from her.

Viper laughed beside him, shaking his head. “He called his wife to tattle and she told him to mind his own fucking business and stay out of his sister’s love life.”

Sparrow growled, shooting a murderous glare at his president. “Fuck you, Draven.”

The Miami president just grinned, clearly enjoying his VP’s discomfort.

Sparrow turned back to me, his expression dead serious. “I know you want us out of your hair, but I can’t leave until Spike has been handled.”

The monster inside me raised his head at the mention of that motherfucker’s name. My lips curled. “Then let’s go end this motherfucker.”

Without waiting for a response, I headed down the hallway. The sound of heavy boots on the concrete told me that Sparrow was following. All eyes were on us as we moved through the clubhouse. My men knew exactly what was about to happen.

Exiting through the back door, we headed across the sand dunes toward the small warehouse we’d built next to the boat dock. It was one of our more secure locations. Didn’t hurt that it was also soundproof, isolated, and had a concrete floor that was easy to hose down. Although my sister always complained when it was time to handle cleanup. I smirked just thinking about the mess I was going to make of Spike.

Havoc was standing outside the door when we approached.

“All quiet?”

“Fucker finally stopped screaming about an hour ago,” Havoc said, a sinister smile twisting his features as he unlocked the heavy metal door. “Killer’s had some quality time with him.”

Good. Killer had a talent for making people talk, and I wanted to know everything Spike knew before I sent him straight to hell where he belonged.

Stepping inside the warehouse, I was hit with the metallic scent of blood. Oh yeah. Killer’s been busy.

Moving around the shipping crates we’d taken off Spike’s hands, I came to a stop. “There he is.” I gestured to the cell in the corner. Viper looked around the space, his dark brow going up when he noticed the drain in the middle of the concrete floor.

“Bet that comes in handy,” he said conversationally.

I nodded. “It really is. Makes cleanup a breeze.” Although the floor around the drain was stained dark with what was obviously years of blood. Foxy used some concoction she’d Frankensteined to eliminate any trace of DNA, but it didn’t do shit for the stains.

“You know who I am, motherfucker?” Sparrow asked, taking off his cut and laying it on a crate.

Inside the cage, tied to a chair with thick rope, was Spike. Or what was left of him. His face was barely recognizable. One eye was swollen completely shut, the other reduced to a slit. Blood had dried in a crust around his nose and mouth, and several of his fingers were bent at unnatural angles.

Killer emerged from the shadows where he’d been leaning against the wall, twirling a set of keys around one massive finger. Without a word, he unlocked the cell door, swinging it open with a high-pitched creak that echoed through the space.

I crossed my arms over my chest, turning to Sparrow. “He’s all yours.”

A cold smile spread across his face as he and Knox moved into the cell. Knox cracked his knuckles. “This is for putting your fucking hands on my sister, you piece of shit,” Sparrow growled.

What followed wasn’t pretty, but I watched every second of it. Every blow, every snap of bone, every scream that escaped Spike’s broken lips. It was what he deserved for laying hands on Cora, for the bruises on Beckett’s face, for the women he’d raped and tormented.

When Sparrow and Knox finally stepped out, both of them were breathing hard and Spike was barely conscious. His head lolled to the side, blood dripping steadily onto the concrete floor.

I unsheathed the Bowie hunting knife at my hip as I moved into the cell. Grabbing a fistful of Spike’s filthy hair, I yanked his head back, exposing his throat. His one functioning eye rolled up to meet mine and I could see that he knew his time was over.

“This is for Cora,” I said, my voice surprisingly calm despite the fury I felt for what he’d put so many innocent women through.

In one swift motion, I drew the blade across his throat, opening him from ear to ear. Blood sprayed in an arc, splattering across the cell like a geyser. I stepped back, watching dispassionately as Spike’s body convulsed, his life’s blood pouring out onto the concrete.

“Jesus fuck,” Killer growled from behind me. “Your sister is going to throw a bitch fit when she sees this mess. You know that, right?”

I turned, smirking at my Sergeant-at-Arms. He was right, but I couldn’t be bothered to care. The man who’d hurt my woman was dead and nothing else mattered.

Killer muttered something under his breath, but I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. For men like us, this was justice. An eye for a fucking eye. His life for the pain he’d caused.

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