“Damn, baby,” the blonde on her hands and knees moans, looking at me from over her shoulder.

 “Chill the fuck out, yeah?” I tell her, jerking on her frizzing hair, slowing her ass down. She’s trying to be sexy, but it’s not working. Bouncing around on my dick, she’s about to break it. She’s got black makeup all under her eyes, and some red lipstick smeared around her mouth, and probably around my dick. She’s not fucking beautiful. She’s fucking basic. Easy.

I don’t look at her, I just shove my wrapped-up cock farther into her cunt. She’s not tight. She’s not sexy. She’s not Samantha.

The bitch bucks against me, jerking wildly. “Right there,” she growls, head thrown back. “Yes!” she screams when I go deep.

I’m into it enough to stay hard and get off, but not enough to smack her ass and tell her to come because I don’t give a fuck if she does or not. I don’t care if she fucking likes me. I want my dick hard and balls emptied.

“Let me turn over,” she moans, trying to get off my dick and get on her back. She wants intimate. She’s not getting that shit. Not from me.

“No,” I bark, grabbing her hips and keeping her on all fours.

There’s no way this bitch is getting under me. Not a chance in hell I can nut while looking at this bitch’s face because right now, balls deep inside her, I’m thinking of my princess.

The chick doesn’t argue when I reach around and grab her tit, pinching that shit hard. She just groans and squeezes my dick in return.

All I can see is Samantha. See her face, her bottom lip between her teeth, and her eyes low and sexy while lying under me. Her smooth soft skin, flushed and pink. Her perfect tits, her flat stomach and her round ass. I miss the taste of her cunt and her mouth. Miss the way she’d wrap her body around mine and hold on. Her voice in my ear and her hands on me.

I fucking miss her.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I come hard thinking of my princess. Nutting in the condom and nowhere near the bitch’s cunt, knowing damn well she’d end up knocked up and try to call me daddy.

Did the bitch get off? I have no fucking clue, and I don’t care. I shove her off my dick and get off the bed.

Chucking the condom and pulling up my jeans, I hit the door and I’m at the bar before the bitch can catch her breath.

“Got a funny story,” Rowdy drawls, claiming the stool next to me, drawing out the story when he stops talking and asks for a beer.

“Talk, Rowdy.” I’m not playing games.

Fingering his beer bottle, he says, “There’s a hit out on you.”

I laugh, shocked as fuck. I’ve been doing this for years, taking out hits and hunting motherfuckers down, and in all that time, I’ve never been on the other side. It’s fucking comical.

“Oh yeah?”

“Hundred grand.”

Well fuck me, someone must really want me dead. “You hard up for cash, brother?” I ask him, looking him up and down, expecting to find a gun to my head.

Rowdy chuckles. “Nah. Wouldn’t kill a brother, but I might hire someone else to do it and split the money with ’em.”

“You’re a funny fucker.”

He nods, laughing. “I know.”

I’ve been in New Orleans a week and I’m ready to move on, but this shit throws a wrench in my plans. Instead of floating from place to place, laying low, I’ll be hunting for the fucker hunting me.

“Got a name?”

“Nah. Just heard there was some money on your head and figured you’d like the heads-up before you lose said head.”

Jesus Christ. Last goddamn thing I need in my life. “Thanks, brother.”

He just tips his beer and takes a pull. “You leavin’ I take it? Put a stop to your bounty?”

“Yep.” If anyone’s gonna kill me, it’s gonna be me.

“Good luck. Don’t get yourself killed. Made a killin’ on you this weekend and I’d like another go at it next time you swing through, yeah?”

Asshole. “Yeah,” I agree, getting up and heading toward my bike.

It didn’t take long. Didn’t take much tracking or digging before I found someone looking for me. Just a few thousand miles and a couple of days. Someone with light pockets and a taste for blood. Found the asshole in the alley behind a bar in Nevada, a gun in his hand and dollar signs in his goddamn eyes. Found him the same time he found me.

He tried, but I was quicker. 

Pinned against the brick wall by his neck, I hold the little scrawny fucker looking to take me out, cutting off his air. “Who sent you?” I growl, pissed the fuck off.

He wiggles, kicking his feet, struggling. The asshole makes a gurgling noise, his fingers clawing at my hand. He’s turning blue, his eyes bugging out of his head.

There’s a gun at his feet, the gun he had to my head a few minutes ago. I should shoot him with it, kill the little shit with his own gun.

“Who fucking sent you?” Slamming his head back against the brick, his skull bounces off the wall with a whack. His eyes go wild for a moment, and I think he might pass out.

I know he can’t answer me, but that’s not the point. The fucking point is, don’t point a gun at my head and not kill me, because if you do and fail, you’ll fucking die.

He failed.

Dropping him, he slumps, falling to the ground, sucking in air, coughing and hacking. “Answer me!” I demand, giving him a little encouraging kick.

He grunts, panting. “The Oregon chapter,” he wheezes. “Danny Boy.”

What. The. Fuck. “Who?” I ask him again, my voice rising. Must’ve heard him wrong.

Bending down, I grab him up again, along with the gun. One hand around his neck and the other holding the gun to his forehead, I ask, “Who?” again.

“Danny Boy,” he groans, breathless.

I swear to fuck, my head about spins. Danny Boy? Danny Boy put a fucking bounty out on me? My fucking brother? My goddamn chapter president? I’m fucking shocked. Shocked and fucking mad.

I put a bullet between his eyes and walk off without looking back.

Lived a lot of life. Done a lot of bad shit. But never did I think I’d go out like this, at the hands of my goddamn brother.