Page 99 of Quiet Protector
That’s what Melody and I have. We’re best friends, lovers, and soul mates. And once all is said and done, I’m also hoping she’ll be my wife.
42
Brandon
“Looky here, looky here, the goody-two-shoes son came to pay his evil brother a visit.” Madden’s tone is way too cocky for my liking. He’s shackled, wearing an orange jumpsuit and being guided down the hall by a man with biceps as big as his head, yet he still thinks he has the world at his feet. What can I say? You can’t change arrogance.
“What’s up, BJ? Daddy’s tenancies finally rubbing off on you.” Since his hands are cuffed at his front, he has no issues grabbing his cock to get across his point. “I’ve got a list of names longer than my arm. What’s your preference? Do you want a screamer? Or a woman who’s as quiet as a mouse…” He slants his head as his smirk doubles, “… just like your girl was. Didn’t murmur one motherfucking peep when I flipped her over and rode her hard from behind.”
He thinks he’s safe from prosecution because he was found not guilty of raping Melody.
He’s dead fucking wrong.
A nervous twitch impinges Madden’s jaw when I swing my eyes to the guard standing at his side. “That will be all, Kwan. I don’t want you caught in the middle of this.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Brandon?” Madden mutters in panic when Kwan tosses a set of keys into my chest before he spins on his heels and stalks to the door.
I wait for the locks of an old county house jail to clang into place before I disperse some of the anger thickening my veins onto Madden’s jaw. The crack my fist makes with his chin is lyrical gold to my ears as is the thud his head makes with the concrete when he drops like a bag of shit.
After laying my boot into his stomach three times, I stand over a man not worthy of my time. When I take in his bloody chin and already swelling nose, a sense of calm washes over me. I can still smell Melody’s heated skin on mine, even with us making love in the shower, and taste her toothpaste on my lips. I’ve got this. I’ve got it so fucking good Madden won’t know what hit him.
“Why didn’t you plead guilty last month, Madden? Thirty-three women came forward to accuse you of rape, yet you’re still pleading innocence.” My words are growls when I recite how many victims he’s amassed the past ten years, sickened we share an ounce of the same blood.
When Madden attempts to prop himself on his elbows, I pin him to the ground by squishing my ‘pretty-boy’ shoes against his face. I bet he’s not thinking they’re ‘gay man’s’ shoes now. “Why… didn’t you plead… guilty… last month, Madden?” I talk extra slow, ensuring the twists of my foot are felt by Madden’s cheek for every word I articulate. It’s like his face is a campfire in the middle of a dead bush, and I’m attempting to stub it out.
With Madden’s face as screwed up as his morals, his words don’t come out as clear as he’s hoping. “Why would I plead guilty, fuckface? I’mnotguilty, so why pretend I am?”
You’d think his reply would spike my agitation. It has somewhat of the opposite effect. “I figured you’d say that. You’ve never been one to take responsibility for your fuck-ups, so why would you let thirty-three women say otherwise?”
He coughs and garbles when I remove my shoe from his face, then he grunts when I help him to his feet. His unsteady movements aren’t to blame for his breathy response. The opening of the switchblade on my trusty utility knife is what has him panicked.
“How long have you been here again, Madden? Two, three months?”
He doesn’t answer me because he knows I’ve been tracking his whereabouts even more closely than my father has been watching me. My father knows I’m onto him, but since I’m always one step ahead of him, he can’t catch me.
“Do you know some prisoners have been here for decades? Some real sick fucks too.” As I step closer to Madden, I test the sharpness of the blade on my knife. “Some have been here so long, they no longer care if you’ve got boy parts or girl parts.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down when I mutter, “As long as you’re pretty, they’ll take you any way they can get you.”
As I stand an inch from his face, I drag my blade down his cheek. I don’t apply enough pressure to make him bleed. I just tease him with a scratch, making him hopeful I’ve marked him enough the men getting rowdy in the cell next to us won’t find him attractive.
“That’s how you like them, isn’t it, Madden? Really pretty?”
Not giving him the chance to answer, I drop my hands to the crotch of his jumpsuit to cut a large hole in the material. Once his dick and balls are exposed, it’s the fight of my life not to cut them off. The only reason I don’t is because I know my plans will hurt Madden more than losing his appendage.
When I walk Madden closer to the cell grunted moans are coming from, he stutters, “BJ… I’m your brother. You can’t do this to me—”
“Melody was my girlfriend! She was the love of my life! Yet, that didn’t stop you from raping her, did it? You brutalized her to hurt me, so now I get to hurt you.” The shackles around his ankles jingle on the floor when I spin him around so I can make his back as accessible as his front. I forgot his cellmates will be eager to have access to both sides of him. “You think rape is a game. That it’s your right to take what you want, from who you want, whenever you want?” I press my lips to his ear before whispering, “I wonder if you’ll feel the same way once you’ve been sodomized by men twice your weight and strength.”
“Brandon, no, please, I’m begging you, please don’t do this,” Madden begs on repeat when I drag him to a cell full of the roughest and meanest prisoners Henry could find.
After smashing Madden’s face to the cool metal material, I slot a key into the cell’s lock, then pull open the heavy-weighted door. Although there’s a metal bar jail door separating us from prisoners serving life sentences, they circle the cage door like vultures eager for a fresh piece of meat.
They taunt Madden when his dick shrivels at the sight of them before telling him he has nothing to be afraid of. Big Papa will look after him. He’s the giant in the corner of the space, stroking his cock through his half-removed jumpsuit while licking his lips. He’s clearly the alpha in the room, and if rumors are true, he gets first dibs even with his compadres being just as big and violent as him.
When I hunt for the key needed to open the bar door separating Madden from his bevy of wannabe lovers, Madden’s pleas turn frantic. “Please, BJ. I’ll do anything.Anythingat all. I’ll give you my car, my inheritance. I’ll take you to fucking Paris.” He’s crying—actualtears, full-on snot bubble blubbering. “Please!” he screams, shattering my eardrums when I find the right key. “I can’t go in there. I won’t survive.”
“Don’t be dramatic. You’ll survive. Big Papa is a giant teddy bear. He loves his little ones so much, heneverlets them go.” The innuendo in my tone ensures he can’t mistake my reply. I’m not implying Big Papa will go easy on him. It’s quite the opposite, actually. Rumors are once you’ve been claimed by Big Papa, you remain his property, only being loaned out when he wants another ‘little bird’ to lay in his nest.
When I slot the key into the lock, the words I’ve been dying to hear Madden say for months roar through my ears, “I’ll admit to raping Melody. I will plead guilty. I’ll do anything you want me to do as long as you don’t make me go in there.” He snaps his eyes to mine, his chin quivering. “Please, Brandon. I’m begging you.” He falls to his knees to authenticate his claims. It makes the men inside the cage more desperate for me to ignore his begs. His mouth is now directly lined up with their cocks. “Why won’t you believe me?” he wails when I twist the key.
