Soulless:MC Biker Romance (Black Thorns, #2)(5)

By: Franca Storm



But I can’t stop.

I keep coming. Beating on him like that bag I was ripping into earlier.

I hear him crying, begging me to stop, but it’s too distant for me to register.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap ‘round me, pulling me back. “Enough,” a voice tells me.

The hold ‘round me breaks and I spin ‘round to see Dealer standing there.

He looks me over with the same worried expression he’d had back at the clubhouse.

“What the fuck you doing here? I’m taking care of club business. Get gone.”

“Guy’s half dead, Ax. You done now?”

“No,” I growl, pulling my gun and eyeing the bloodied mess of Ricky sprawled out in the parking lot. Shit. I can barely even recognize him, cuz I messed up his face so bad.

My hand shakes as I think ‘bout blowing him away, just like I gotta do to all the assholes on my list.

Jesus. Why ain’t this easy? I gotta be ready and killing this shit head is a good warm up. Ain’t like he don’t deserve it, right?

I flip off the safety and shift my weight. Come on. You can do this. Take him out.

But then a shot fires.

I watch as a bullet rips through Ricky’s skull, killing him instantly.

I turn to Dealer to see him standing there, his eyes cold, expression completely blank, with his gun still in firing position.

“What the fuck? Why’d you do that?”

“I’m a ghost. You ain’t. Did you a fucking favor.”

Before I can get a word out, he holsters his gun and pulls out his cell and calls for a cleanup.

“Twenty minutes and this mess will be taken care of,” he says, eyeing Ricky.

Jesus, he’s connected.

“Look, Dealer—”

“You’re on the edge, Ax.”

“I’m fine,” I growl. “Guy had it coming.”

“Don’t doubt it, but ain’t like you to be the one to deal it out. With your fists, sure. But dealing death? Nah, not who you are.”

“What?”

“You ain’t Skinner, but you’re on your way there, kid. Right now, you’re still hesitating. Something’s stopping you from doing it. But that ain’t gonna last if you head down this road.”

Before I can stop myself, I lunge at him. Fisting my hands in his leather jacket, I snarl, “I ain’t nothing like him! You hear me?”

“Think ‘bout what you almost did here and tell me that again,” he says, not the least bit affected by me having hold of him. Guy’s got balls of steel.

I let go of him roughly and blow out a breath. “Why’d you care?”

“Cuz she would care.”

“What?” I choke, not expecting those words outta his mouth.

“She wouldn’t want this for you. Would kill her to see you like this.”

“She ain’t gonna, is she? She’s miles away. So, what’s the difference?”

He scrubs his hand over his face, looking distressed. Shit. What is it? “Dealer?”

“I was right ‘bout you being with her putting her in danger. But I was wrong on how deep shit ran between you two.”

“What you getting at?”

“Roxana ain’t over you. She’s good at faking it to most people But not to me. Not to her old man. She ain’t happy.”

“Why you telling me when you know I can’t do nothing ‘bout it ‘til I’ve taken care of every motherfucker on my enemies list?”

“Cuz I’m gonna help you, asshole.”

“What?”

“Can’t let you go ‘round burying a load of guys, cuz, like I said, you won’t come outta it the same guy. Roxana won’t even recognize you. But me…I’m already down that dark road, Ax. Won’t make a bit of difference for me.”

I’m getting sick and tired of hearing all this bullshit from him, of him questioning me. I ain’t a green kid no more. I’m Prez of Thorns now. I know what the fuck I’m doing.

“You think you know me, cuz you knew my old man?” I tell him, stepping into him and getting in his face. “Cuz you guys were tight once?” He just glares back at me, standing his ground like the arrogant fucker he is. “You don’t. You dunno what I’m prepared to do. Dunno what I’m capable of. Dunno what I can take. Dunno me.”

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