CHAPTER THIRTY
——
DOMINIC
“THAT’S THE LAST of it,” Erika tells me, handing me a small bag full of our things. Camaro packed full, I close the trunk. Leaning against it, I bring her between my legs and hold her bruised face carefully as I kiss her.
“How you feeling?”
Beautiful golden hazel eyes look up at me, full of adoration and brimming with fear.
“I’m barely holding it together. I know you’re going to confront him. I’m afraid you won’t come back.”
Gently brushing my thumb along her jaw, I steal a moment of pleasure, knowing how much she loves me.
“You don’t need to be afraid. After this, we’re free. We won’t need to watch our backs. It’s something I gotta do, for us.”
“I love you so much.” Head against my chest, she wraps her arms around my waist, holding me as tight as she can.
“You have no idea how much I love you. What I’ll do for you.”
Gaze to mine, she stares up at me, a new determination in her eyes.
“I know because it’s the same as I’d do for you.”
My lips take charge, kissing her with unrestrained passion, showing her how much I need her. Pulling back from her, her face is flushed. She’s pushing against my cock, slipping her hands beneath my shirt.
“Do you want me inside you?”
I’m concerned she won’t with what happened to her last night.
“Yes. I want to feel you inside me, loving me. I need it.”
“So do I.”
***
In the dark, I wait, finger resting on the trigger of my gun. Minutes ago, his Harley rumbled into his driveway. Now the creaking of the hinges on his front door indicates his arrival. Not that I needed it. My eyes have adjusted to the lightless room.
With a flick of his hand, the living room light comes on after he’s closed the door. He’s not expecting me and his body jolts in surprise.
“Dom, what are you doing here?”
His eyes dart to my loaded gun.
“What’s going on?”
“Cut the bullshit. Erika’s alive. Drake and Ditch are dead.”
Christian’s a smart man. His expression remains the same.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t need to waste our time explaining your well thought out plan. Only problem was you didn’t expect me to choose her over the Serpents. I went back for her, planned on taking her with us. I knew something wasn’t right when she didn’t answer her phone. I rode straight to her old house where Drake and Ditch were beating her, getting her primed for them to rape her, then kill her. You were right. I would’ve gone after the Jackals. I would’ve taken out every one of them and not cared about going to prison. It would’ve got you just what you wanted—your enemies taken out, their turf for the taking, and your only remaining threat would be in jail.”
“Threat,” he scoffs.
“If I wanted to be President, all it would take is a few votes, and you’d lose everything. Greedy men get careless, Christian, and you’ve become one greedy son of a bitch.”
Hand on his pistol, he’s ready to pull it.
“Take your hand off it. I’m not going to shoot you.”
Slowly, he withdraws his hand, confusion written on his face.
“What do you want?”
“To kill you with my bare hands. It’s the only way I’ll make peace with your betrayal.”
When his hand reaches for his pistol, my eyes narrow.
“Reach for it again and I’ll change my fucking mind.” Standing, I aim the gun at his chest. “Slowly take it out and set it on the floor. It’s your only chance of surviving. Your choice. Bullet or bare knuckles?”
Anger is etched across his brow, seething in his eyes, but it’s nothing compared to the rage I’m barely containing. Leaning over, he drops the pistol. Eyes locked on his, I use my peripheral and kick it away. With his gun out of the way, I stick to my word and put mine back in my waistband.
Christian wastes no time attacking me. He lunges, arm swinging. Blocking his punch, I knock his arm back and slam the edge of my palm into his neck. It knocks him sideways, catching him off guard. Fist to his gut, I attempt to rob him of his breath. Coughing, he hunches over, only to rebound quick and charge forward. We both fly back and land on his coffee table, the weight of our bodies destroying the wooden table.
One punch lands on my face and I growl out my fury. Arm bent, hand to his chin, I force his face up, extending his neck. With one hard punch, I lay damage to his throat. He’s struggling to breathe, scrambling to get off me. Grabbing across his chest to his shoulder, I buck my hip and roll us. Now over him, I unleash. Fist to face, I let it all out. Blood spatters from his broken nose, then mouth. Desperate coughs and rasps for breath fuel my rage. Another punch to his face and his eye is swollen shut. His disfigured face is difficult to recognize.
My arm lowers when I hear the struggle for air to be brought into his lungs. Bringing my face closer to his, I stare into his one open eye.
“You brought death to your own fucking door.”
Withdrawing my switchblade from my jeans, I flick the knife open. Driving the metal into his stomach, I watch as it tears through his flesh and drains the life from his body.
Pulling my knife from his insides, I wipe the blood on his shirt. Blade away, I stand and retrieve my cell phone from my pocket. Mercy answers quickly.
“Christian’s dead. The Serpents belong to you now. They need to know…if any of them come for us. I’ll kill them…one by one.”