Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(56)

I took the jacket without hesitation.





Chapter Thirteen





“Life is rough so you gotta be tough.”

-Johnny Cash



“Please,” the coward choked out, tears and snot streaming down his face.

I didn’t blink at his plea, merely leaned forward, placing the bloodstained knife at his flabby neck. “Funny, I remember uttering that same word eleven years ago. When you had me pinned to the bed. When you stole something that wasn’t yours to take, you sick f*ck,” I hissed.

I ran the blade along his collarbone, feeling immense satisfaction at his shriek of pain. “How many girls?” I asked when he stopped screaming.

His bloodshot eyes darted from me to Gabriel, who was leaning against the wall, casually swinging his gun between his thumb and forefinger. I knew he was waiting. Waiting for me to finish exacting my revenge so he could finish the job. Do the dirtiest of the dirty work.

He’d been clear about that before we came.

“You deserve to make this guy hurt,” he’d said after he’d tied him up in some abandoned warehouse in Reno. Reno. The guy had been living one state over. “That’s your right. But you’re letting me end him.”

I stared at him. “How is that your right?” I asked, weirdly calm over the fact we’d just kidnapped a man and were now discussing his torture and murder.

Maybe it was because of the little girl I’d seen playing in the front garden of the same house that held my lost innocence. Though she wasn’t playing. She was sitting on a swing set, staring into space, her eyes empty, devoid of anything. A look far too tortured and adult for a little girl. A look I recognized.

She couldn’t have been more than twelve.

I guessed that’s why I was calm. And angry over Gabriel declaring he be the one to get to send this monster to the underworld.

“Why? Because you’re the big strong man you get to do the killing? A woman can’t? We get equal pay and the right to vote. We should be allowed to pull the triggers too.”

His eyes were hard and the corner of his mouth twitched. There was no smile, though. There hadn’t been since the moment I told him. His face had been eerily blank.

I had no f*cking clue how he organized an SUV to transport the guy and a place to store and presumably kill him. The perks of belonging to a national outlaw motorcycle gang, I thought.

“This isn’t about f*ckin’ women’s rights,” he replied. “I got nothin’ against a woman killing someone who deserves it. I got somethin’ against you doin’ it, but not for the reasons you think,” he said, holding his hand up to stop the protests he knew would come with that statement. “It’s ’cause I want a shot at this guy for what he did to you. More than anything, it’ll bring me immense f*ckin’ joy to send him to the reaper. It’s somethin’ I’ve done. Many times. Saw the life filter outta someone’s eyes, been the one to take that life.” He regarded me, cupping my face. “I already got those marks on my soul and I’ll pay for them, whenever my time comes. But you, you’ve already got enough shit scarring yours, shit you had no control over. I’m not gonna let you have that on you, not gonna let him put another mark on your beautiful, scarred soul. He can’t have that.”

His words struck me dumb, which I think he took as agreement. He kissed me soundly and handed me a blade. “Don’t cut yourself,” he warned, grinning wickedly. “Go nuts.” He stepped back, revealing the overweight, naked, and balding man tied to the chair in front of us.

I did. Go nuts, that was. I hadn’t even known I’d have the stomach for it. Revenge. I’d dreamed about it, plenty of times, making him pay for what he did to me, what he took from me. I’d fantasized, but I never had the courage to do it.

But I’d found it. Gabriel gave it to me.

And I found that I could do it. Get my revenge in every way I’d imagined.

“How many?” I repeated, my voice rough.

“I-I don’t know what you’re t-talking about,” he stuttered.

I eyed him, the monster in the dark all these years. He wasn’t scary now that I’d stripped away everything and exposed him for the coward he was. The overweight, beady-eyed waste of space who cried the second he lost the upper hand. The second someone fought back.

“How many little girls have you f*cking raped while you got paid to take care of them?” I seethed. “How many lives have you ruined?”

He started shaking as he sobbed. “I’m so-sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry. I can’t control myself. Please don’t kill me. I’ll stop. I promise I’ll stop—”

His pleas were cut off when a garbled wet sound erupted from his throat. I stepped back, not wanting blood on my tank top.

“No, you won’t,” I said to his twitching, dying body.

Gabriel clutched my hips, bringing my body back to his front. He gently pried the knife from my hands, tucking it into his belt.

“Jesus, Becky,” he murmured into my neck. “I thought we’d f*ckin’ established I’d be the one to do that.”

I stared at the body, my mind numb. “No, you saying something does not establish it as law,” I informed him. “Despite your thoughts to the contrary, my soul is already damned. And even if it weren’t, giving this guy the death he deserved should be counted as a good deed, not a sin.”