Lawless (King #3)(11)

But even copious amounts of whiskey couldn’t save me from the dreams.

I feel heat against my side so close it burns. I hear the fire crackle and when I open my eyes I can see the embers from the fire pop into the air. I feel the singe of my skin when one lands on the back of my neck.

I try to get up, but I can’t. I can’t move my arms either.

I’m on my stomach, laying across a set of cheap plastic lawn chairs.

I’m tied down.

Men, several of them surround me. They’re laughing. Poking at me. Punching me in the face. Kicking me in the sides. At one point the chairs fall to the side and I go with them, positive I cracked a rib against the brick of the bonfire in the process. There is an order to set me upright, and it’s done immediately.

When they set the chairs back up I lift my head and I see Eli, the man responsible for my current state, sitting with his legs crossed and a cigar in his mouth. When the smoke clears from around his face it reveals his amused smile.

The one I was going to cut from his face.

My pants are tugged down. I try to scream, to protest, but there is a gag in my mouth. One of the men puts his f*cking hands on the cheeks of my ass and spreads them apart. They are poking at my * with the end of something and I scream through the pain as they penetrate me over and over again. I concentrate on the things I am going to do to them when I’m free to avoid passing out from the pain.

Because I will be free.

This was not the way I was meant to go out.

I think of revenge. Removing all of their teeth one by one with pliers. A guy in the club knows how to do it in a way that maximizes blood loss. The victim dies a slow painful death by tooth loss. That’s of course only after I remove their intestines through their *s with a wrench.

They think what they are doing to me is torture.

These f*ckers have no f*cking idea what torture is.

I’m so still that one of them asks another if I’ve passed out. My eyes are closed when I feel the presence of someone in front of me. He pokes his finger into my eye and I don’t react. I’m in the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life, but I’ve found my place of calm and I’m not leaving it until I can kill every single one of these motherf*ckers. I’m saving my energy for when I can actually use it.

I’m a f*cking Beach Bastard.

Bitches have been gunning for me since the ink was still wet on my birth certificate.

This isn’t my first time being bound and tortured.

Chances are it wouldn’t be my last.

Never is there a doubt in my mind that I’m going to die there.

Never.

My gag is removed and I hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered. I almost laugh to myself because I know what’s about to come.

But he doesn’t.

He laughs to his friends when he shoves his fat little cock in my mouth. I fight the bile rising in my throat. My reflex to fight. I stay perfectly still for one, two, three seconds.

The longest three seconds of my life.

I close my teeth around his cock until they meet in the middle. When he screams and tries to pull away I hold on tighter and jerk my head to the side.

Warm copper fills my mouth and I can’t help but laugh as the man hops around in pain.

My laughter is out of control as his blood pours down the sides of my mouth and I spit out what’s left of his little cock onto the ground.

The sound of gunfire erupts and bodies around me start to fall. There is an explosion and the bonfire sends me sailing into the air. I land with a dull thud on the grass and wait to be untied.

Because I know it’s King.

I know he’s come for me.

And I know it’s just killing time now.

In a flash King is dragging a tied up and half conscious Eli into his truck and I’m putting a bullet in the last of Eli’s men on the dock when I hear a voice. And then suddenly I’m not covered in blood and ending a life. I’m sitting next to the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life.

My best friend’s girl.

King’s girl.

“I would have been a good biker whore for you,” she says, and my cock practically leaps to attention inside my pants. Her large blue eyes are unfocused. Her pupils the size of the f*cking moon, but somehow the way she’s staring up at me makes me believe that she is looking past me. Past my bullshit. Past the biker and to the man inside. At that moment she’s the only person in the world who can see past the cut and I must be suicidal because I’m willing to suffer the wrath of King to be with her.

I don’t even care that she’s drunk, it will make what I have to tell her easier. But right now I don’t care about anything but putting my lips to hers. Pink, plump, beautiful. I imagine them wrapped around my cock and my jeans get tighter when my cock decides that he likes the idea as much as I do. When I hear the click of a gun behind me I know it’s King. The click is a courtesy because I’m a friend. I know first hand that most who find themselves at the end of his gun aren’t extended the same courtesy of a warning. I look back at the girl they call Doe and I want her so bad I can almost taste her on my tongue.

I contemplate ignoring my friend and taking the bullet.

I think she could be worth it.

She’s angry at King, and has every right to be. She just walked in on him and some bitch. I almost want to deck the motherf*cker myself for making her so upset. But oh the f*ck well.