Twenty months ago . . .
“WHAT THE FUCK, JAX,” I snap, when he pushes my door open, interrupting me for the third time in the last twenty minutes. “Can I finish this shit so I can get home to Olivia already? I’m tired of looking at you dickheads tonight.”
His face turns hard. “Nah, man. James is here again looking for Brian and he is fucking heated. He said he’s going to break everything in this fucking bar if you don’t come out and see him. Doesn’t look like he’s leaving.”
“Fuck!” Slamming the pile of twenties down, I stand up and point at the drawers of cash. “Watch this shit. Don’t walk away from it for nothing. I’ll be back. I’m going to kill that Brian fucker myself if he ever sets foot in here again. I’ve had enough of this shit.”
I walk out¸ slamming the door behind me. I look around the dark bar until I spot James and two of his guys going through my liquor stash.
“What the fuck can I do for you, Fuckers?”
James and his guys walk around the bar to meet up with me, one of his guys still holding a bottle of my whiskey. I watch him carefully as he tilts the bottle back and takes a swig of it, trying to intimidate me and show me he has balls. Fucker’s lucky it’s almost empty or he’d lose them.
“I need my fucking money; all twenty grand of it,” James barks out. “And since I can’t fucking find Brian, I’m getting it from the fucktard that allowed his dirty ass to fuck me over in his bar. That’s you my friend. Now where’s my fucking dough?” He grabs the bottle of whiskey from his friend and tosses it at the wall, breaking it.
Out of instinct, I grab him by the neck and slam him against the wall behind him. I squeeze, digging into his neck as I lean in close. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Bar.” I squeeze tighter, knowing that this prick’s life is in my hands right now. One wrong move and I’ll take it. “I didn’t allow that fuck up to do shit in my bar.” I spit out. “Don’t expect shit from me. Got it, Bitch!”
I feel the barrel of a gun press against my temple, before I hear the hammer being pulled back. For a split second, I worry for my life, knowing what I have at home waiting for me, but still I test the water, hoping that they aren’t stupid enough to shoot me right now.
Growling out, I squeeze his neck until he’s fighting for air and pulling at my fingers with both hands.
“Go ahead . . . shoot me. I fucking dare you to. As soon as you do, you’re dead.”
James stops fighting me and lifts his hand up to his friend. I feel the gun disappear from my head and I release his neck a few seconds after.
He instantly starts coughing and fighting for air, bent over, grabbing at his neck.
“Fuck you,” James coughs out. “Crazy, Dick.”
Turning to the bigger guy that had the gun to my head, I lift up the bottom of my shirt, showing him that I too am packing. This isn’t some little kid shit that they’re dealing with. They’re not just going to walk into my bar and intimidate me. “Get the fuck out. If that fucker ever comes back . . .” I grab James by the shoulder and pull up, until he’s looking at me. “I’ll tell him you bitches stopped by.”
Turning around, I walk toward the front door and hold it open. “I said, get the fuck out.”
Grinding his jaw, James keeps his eyes on me while whistling for his guys to follow him to the door. Once his guys are outside, he stops and turns to me. “This shit ain’t over. Enjoy your fucking night.” A sickening smirk crosses his face that makes me feel sick to my fucking stomach.
An unsettling feeling sets in as he backs away with me watching his every damn move. His eyes stay locked with mine, unwavering until he laughs and finally turns around.
As soon as they’re through the parking lot and to their bikes, I slam the door closed, before punching it as hard as I can. I feel like a cannon ready to explode.
“Fuuuck!” I start pacing, while nervously running my hands through my hair. “That shit was not cool.”
Jax appears in the bar and looks at the dent in the door. “I had my shit ready if those fuckers tried making a bad move. Fuck, I’m happy I didn’t have to kill someone tonight.”
I let out a hard breath and grip my hair tighter, while stopping to look at him. “Me too.” I take off walking back to my office, in a hurry to get out of here now. “I’ll be finishing this shit up. You can go.”
“Nah,” Jax takes a seat at the bar and reaches for his half empty glass of vodka. He lifts it up. “I’m good for a while. I’m not going anywhere in case those dicks come back.”
I nod my head, thankful for Jax. “Thanks, Man.”
My mind is so fucked up after James and his minions left that it takes my ass another thirty minutes to finish with my closing shit. All I’ve been able to think about this whole time is how I want to kill those fuckers, and it was pretty close to coming down to that. I’ve never wanted to kill anyone in my damn life.
Locking up all the cash and downing the rest of my whiskey, I walk out and lock my office behind me.
Jax stands up and slips on his leather jacket. “You good, Man?”
My nostrils flare in anger as I pull out a cigarette and light it. “I’m good. Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”
I know some shit is off as soon as I turn down my street to see three Harleys parked at the nearby park. My heart instantly stops and I know that I’m fucked, because I’m most likely going to be taking a few lives tonight after all.
Present
“FUCK!” I SIT UP IN bed and run both of my hands over my flushed, sweaty face. I can never fucking sleep. This shit happens every damn night, and I find myself drowning in a bottle of whiskey until I’m close to waking up in a hospital with a fucking IV in my arm.
Taking a few deep breaths, I reach beside me for the bottle I keep close by and toss the cap across the room. It’s the only way I’ll be able to close my eyes without feeling as if I’m dying from the memories; the fucking images in my head that haunt me until I can’t breathe, almost making it easy for me lay down and just let it fucking take me.
I’m doing my best to fight it, but someday I need to realize that my best isn’t good enough. That shit will never go away.
Throwing my feet over the edge of the bed, I stand up and strip out of my boxer briefs, before grabbing the bottle of whiskey and heading for the shower.
With the door open, I keep the light off and turn on the shower, hopping in. With one hand pressed against the shower wall, I let the frigid water pour over my heated flesh, while holding the bottle to my lips and taking a desperate swig.
My body is freezing, but my insides are fucking burning, feeling raw from the warm whiskey. It’s a fucked up combination, but at least I’m feeling something.
Anything at all . . .