Princess (5 page)

Stopping along the way, the alcohol’s set in so I take a piss. Then head outside as well.

The door closes, engulfing the classic rock, leaving me in the quiet, humid night. Leaning against the building, I fish my cigarettes out of my front jeans pocket, shaking them so one pops out enough that I can put it straight to my lips. Shoving the packet back into my pocket, I dig my fingers around until they find my Zippo, and it comes out next.

Flipping the top open, I flick it, so the bright orange and blue flame comes to life as I cup my other hand around it, lighting my cigarette. Closing the lid, I stuff the non-descript metal Zippo back in my pocket and inhale a long, relieving drag, just as I hear the first low whimper.

Holding my breath and remaining still, my gaze starts to scan over everything around me. Nothing pops out, but I know what I heard. There’s a small brick building about twelve paces away, most likely for the bar storage. A dim light hangs from behind the poorly built structure, not doing much to illuminate the area.

A pained cry comes next, louder, echoed by another; this one tainted with anger. Off to the side of the storage, it’s shadowed, but I’m able to make out what looks to be a struggle happening.

Launching off the small porch, I bring the cigarette to my lips and inhale another deep drag before tossing it off into the gravel. With large, quick strides, I make my way over to the shadowed area. Remaining as quiet as possible, I creep the last few paces to get a good look at what’s going on. It could be a wild fuck for all I know, or it could be someone getting attacked.

The shady looking guy from the hallway has the blonde shoved up against the brick, ripping at her clothes. She’s not giving it freely, but fighting for her fucking life, pounding her petite fists into him over and over. He slams her into the building, frustrated, going for her lacey bra next and she emits a wounded whimper from impact, the sound stabbing into my soul.

Consumed by his dick, shady fuck hisses, “I’ve watched those bikers show up and take all the women around here, well not you. I’m fucking you, no matter if I have to kill you first or not.”

Her hands fly toward his face, attempting to shove him away. “Get off of me you piece of shit!” she cries.

The rage inside grows, overtaking and overwhelming any bit of self-control that I once possessed. My body vibrates as I’m unable to hold myself back any longer, nor do I want to. Blood rushes through my body, my veins pumping full as the adrenaline hits me full force, wanting to explode. Deep red, the color of blood, begins to cloud my vision from witnessing someone physically hurt her like this, to hear the fear and helplessness in her sweet voice.

“She said no, motherfucker,” I rasp, angrily. It takes so much to utter those simple words and not just rip him from her, but I don’t want to frighten her more by slaughtering him in front of her.

He turns toward me with a snarl painted on his lips, but I give him no time to react. Eagerly wrapping my hand around his throat, I lift him completely off the ground. Thrusting him forward, I beat his skull into the wall. His head emits a loud smack sound each time it crashes against the rough brick, totaling three times.

It dazes shady fuck enough for me to glance toward the shaken woman. Her red lipstick’s all over her mouth and chin, her mascara smeared down her cheeks from her tears, dirtying her up a bit. I’ve never seen a woman more beautiful before.

Her gratitude-filled blue eyes meet mine like I’m some sort of fucking hero or a saint. As the wetness continues to trail over her cheeks, it ignites an entirely different creature. The urge to breed—to
fuck
her into submission—grows rampant. The animal wanting to claw it’s way free and take over what this shady fuck was about to do.

I never said I was a decent man. Upstanding citizen hasn’t ever fit in my description. There are these thoughts I have; it doesn’t mean I’ve acted on them before. But fuck if it isn’t the strongest right now, wanting to take this bitch and ride her hard.

The asshole starts to squirm, my grip slipping slightly and stealing me out of the spell. “Go,” I grunt and tighten my hold.

“O-okay.” She swallows, pulling her shirt front together attempting to hide her bra, from where the douche ripped it completely open.

Her tall heels are forgotten as she takes off in a sprint toward the front of the building. Fumbling along the way, she calls someone, continuing to run. Probably her friend, to let her know what happened.

Shady fuck moves again, and I release my grip. He falls, stumbling to catch his balance as I plant a powerful punch to his gut, causing him to gasp for air.

“Who the fuck are you?” Stomping my heavy boot into his foot, I grind my heel down, planting him in place.

“Fuck you Oath Keeper!” he replies stubbornly.

I’ve always been an impatient man, hitting first and asking questions later. This idiot got a courtesy and didn’t even realize it. My curiosity wanted answers, but my need for punishment wins out.

Pulling the small hatchet from my belt, I let loose a dark chuckle at what I’m about to do. I wanted to laugh when I was hitting him against the wall, but I would’ve terrified the beauty. Without another thought, I flash a grin and impale the blade of my ax into the top of his skull. It’s not an easy feat, but I’ve had many times to practice throughout the years, and not to mention my size.

The brother’s call me Viking for a reason, with my thighs resembling small tree trunks and my arms massive enough to make grown men cringe. My height easily dwarfs the average man; hell, I even tend to make the bigger ones look feeble when standing near me—if they have the guts to get that close in the first place. Usually, if the size doesn’t scare them, then it’s the Nordic Viking tattoos all over my body and the hatchet I keep on me.

There’s a large gasp on impact, and my gaze flies to his expression. His eyes widen in shock, his mouth gaping in a horrific, tortured scream as I use both hands to wiggle the conveniently sized ax back out. It’s wedged snuggly into the hard shell of his skull and takes some plying to remove. My favorite part’s when they scream like this. Their eyes always widen with terror and disbelief that I’m going to kill them, and it’s going to be painful.

Once the blade’s free, he becomes motionless, staring like he’s in a trance and I bring the hatchet down again. This time, the sharp object reaches far enough into the brain to do the damage I was craving. The man’s once evil gaze glosses over as he falls to the ground, his life finished.

My dick hardens further as the rush of adrenaline sets in with the fact that I just killed for her.
She’s mine.
My body hums in triumph.

With that one thought, I know I’d do it again. I’d kill for her as many times needed, no matter the reason. There’s something about her that speaks to my darkness. It’s fucking with my mind; I know absolutely nothing about her.

Hearing the bar door, I turn from the shady fucker and notice the chick’s black heels she’d left behind in her haste. The light hits the shoes just enough to pick up the glossy texture and make them shine. They stand out like that stupid fairytale the girls in grade school used to talk about. Only I’m no Prince Charming, more like the big, bad wolf ready for dinner.

“Vike?” Spider rounds the corner, flicking a glance at the dead guy on the ground then to me. He watches as I place my hatchet into its holster on my leather belt. “You need some help dumping the body?”

“Appreciate it, brother,” I reply, and he fist-bumps me.

This is a prime example of why I’m a part of this crew; they always have your back no matter the situation. There’s not a bunch of bullshit questions or accusations, and the best part of all, they’re all pretty fucked up in the head just like me.

“You wanna bury or burn it?”

There’s a river not too far away, so I have a different idea that may not gain us attention or make us get all tired and filthy from digging. The only way I’d get dirty tonight would be if a sexy Cinderella were involved.

“Do you still have that container of liquid acid in your saddlebag?”

“Yeah. Fuck, you’re gonna melt him?”

“I’m thinking we could pour some over his face and head where I hit him, and then dump the body in that river back there.” I gesture into the darkness toward the sounds of rushing water.

Texas got so much rain this past week that it’s been causing major flooding. The river here is up seven feet so far and still rising; authorities and weathermen are calling for everyone to stay away for fear of injuries and drownings. They’ve even closed some of the lakes as well. I’m betting it’s the perfect scenario to dump a body easily. I could probably dump a dozen before anyone noticed.

“Good idea. I’ll get it real quick.” He takes off in a rush toward the front parking lot where his bike’s located.

I’m drawn back to the shoes. Bending, I pick them up and inspect them closer.
Her calves in these were utterly fucking sinful.

They look tiny in my hands and Cinderella’s no small woman. I’d guess her to be around five foot eight or a little taller, but her shoes still look petite. There’s nothing significant about the heels or on them to help me figure out who she could be.

Bringing them to my nose, I inhale, wanting some hint of her scent. I’m pleasantly surprised to find that they smell flowery. I’m guessing she must’ve put lotion on her feet before wearing them tonight.

I take another deep sniff like some psycho stalker, but I couldn’t be fucked about that. She smells good—edible. This is the scent I would most likely incur as I ran my tongue up her calves, biting into the muscle tenderly while reveling in her smooth skin. You know it has to be soft; bitches like that always feel like they’re an entirely different breed than the rest of us.

Spider hurries back; his chains secured to his wallet jingling with each step as he carefully carries the container. He peers over at the shoes I’m clutching for a moment, confused, but keeps his questions about them to himself.

“You want me to grab one of his legs so we can drag him?” His gesture doesn’t go unnoticed. I know he only offered so I wouldn’t have to put down the woman’s heels and I won’t forget it the next time he needs a brother to back him on something. Little shit like that goes a long way with me.

“Appreciate it, brother.” I nod, carefully holding the pumps to my body and grab the right leg of the dead man.

Spider lifts the left ankle, holding the acid with his other hand as we set about dragging him in the dark toward the sounds of the river. He’s fairly easy to move, save for him occasionally getting hung up on small bushes and what not. We both take careful strides; you never know where a snake hole or a dip may be, and I’m not trying to carry Spider’s ass back ‘cause he rolled his ankle not paying attention.

The aroma of rich topsoil grows stronger as we near the river’s edge. The odor eventually becomes murkier—like muddy rainwater as we arrive at the bank.

We each drop the dead weight. Spider cautiously opens the acid, handing the container to me.

“Wait,” he grumbles, pulling his cell phone out. The screen illuminates as he taps on it a few times. Eventually, a bright light shines out of it. “Flashlight app.” He grins, pleased with himself.

“Nice.”

Stepping toward the dude’s head, but not too close, I tip the acid all over his face and the top of his skull where I had chopped a nice sized hole in it with my ax.

“Is it working?”

“I don’t know. You sure do talk a lot when we’re attempting to quietly dispose of a body, though.”

“We’re usually riding or drinking. Can’t do much talking when there’s a loud engine or music blaring.”

“It’s weird.”

“I don’t like the quiet.”

Shrugging, I hand him the acid and the shoes.

I’m not checking if the guy’s face is melted off; it’s an image I can live without. I’ve gotten used to the blood and broken bones over the years, but I’ve never seen anyone melted before. The toxic smell floating in the air is enough to tell me not to look.

Not wanting to get any of that shit on me in case it really does burn your skin off, I turn the shady fuck over on his side and lift him, so his back is facing me. Inhaling a deep breath of burnt skin and damp earth, I powerfully toss his body out in front of me, biting my lip until I hear the splash of him hitting the water.

Spider shines his phone light over the water in front of us, and then along the banks. Either it’s too dark, and we aren’t seeing him, or the body landed in a good spot and is busy floating away.

“I need a beer,” he mumbles after a beat.

“Fuck beer; I want whiskey.” I need a sexy-ass blonde who wears super high black heels also, but I leave that part out.

Taking the shoes from him, we make the short trek back to the bar.

“I have to go
back tomorrow,” I declare, glancing over at Bethany.

Her mouth gapes and she shakes her head. “Are you crazy, Prissy? No way! You were just attacked!”

She’s called me Prissy for years. It only comes out when she’s worried about something, though.

“Look, I know I was upset…”