Page 70 of Bombshell (Whiskey Dolls 1)

“How often?” I demanded.

“Pierce, listen—”

“How often did that fucking piece of shit hit you, Marin?” I clipped. “Was it just that once?”

The way she curled her lips between her teeth was all the answer I needed.

I didn’t realize I was moving until her voice slashed through the air. “Pierce! Where are you going?”

I didn’t stop. I still had my keys in my pocket, and I was in my car, peeling out of the driveway before my brain engaged with what I was doing.

I was moving on autopilot, not registering the drive through town until I was pulling up in front of Frank’s house.

I barely had the car stopped before I was out and storming up his front walk, my fist pounding on his door so hard it was a wonder I didn’t crack the wood.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Frank barked as he whipped the door open. As soon as he saw it was me, he narrowed his eyes into hateful slits. “What the hell do you want, asshole? You here to tell me again I need to grow up and get my shit together? Is that it? Well you’ll be happy to know the bitch was never really pregnant. Just wanted to trap me.”

I didn’t register a single word he said over the blood rushing through my ears. Placing my hand in the center of his chest, I shoved so hard he went stumbling backward, the backs of his legs slamming into the coffee table. I moved inside, shutting the door behind me.

“Motherfucker,” I seethed. “Youhither?”

Frank puffed his chest up, trying to look big and bad. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Marin,” I growled. “You put your fucking hands on her?”

“Is that what that bitch is sayin’?”

“Yes or no, Frank. Answer the question. Did you put your goddamn hands on her?”

“It’s not that big a deal!” he shouted. “Besides, what her cunt friend did to my knee is worse than anything I ever did.”

I was seeing red. There was a beast under my skin clawing to get out, and like the dumb fuck he was, Frank didn’t notice.

“What do you care anyway? You barely even know her.” His eyes turned shrewd and a twisted grin pulled at his lips. “Wait. Are you fuckin’ her now?” He let out a brittle laugh. “Man, that’s classic! How do you like my sloppy seconds, big brother? I wrecked that snatch before you even had a chance—”

His words cut off of a garbled shout of pain when I plowed my fist right into his face.

“Jesus Christ!” he bellowed, cupping his hands to his nose as a guiser of blood spurted out. “You broke my fuckin’ nose.”

I was too far gone to care. I hit him again. And again. And again. My knuckles split and I couldn’t tell what was his blood and what was mine.

He was on the ground, my fist in the collar of his dingy shirt so I could hold him up as I continued to pummel his face into pulp. By the time I was finished, I was breathing like I’d just run a marathon, like a dragon ready to spit fire and burn the entire fucking world down.

“You will never go near her again. Do you understand me?” He made a pathetic noise, choking on his own blood. I gave him a violent shake. “Confirm you get me, asshole!”

“I get you!” he rasped.

“If I ever find out you so much aslookedin her direction, I’ll end you. Fuck blood. Fuck being brothers. I will. End. You. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand!”

Dropping him to the floor, I wiped my fist on the front of his shirt and stomped out of his house while he writhed on the floor in pain. Not that I gave a single shit.

* * *

Marin

It had taken everything I had not to lose my grip on the panic attack that was clawing at my chest, desperate to get out as I waited anxiously for Pierce to return from wherever the hell he’d gone.

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