Chapter 7 – Rage
Chapter Seven
Rage
I am stuck in Oklahoma, seething with impatience. She blocked my number, which means I'll need to go to great extremes to get her ass back over here. To my house. To my playroom where she belongs. She can't deny how perfect our night was. Fuck! How dare she block my number? The second I settle, my rage returns.
When I get my hands on her, I'll unleash a spanking so fucking brutalizing on her ass that she'll have to suffer for days with the painful knowledge that she is just as addicted to receiving pain as I am to giving it.
Does she have another explanation for the way she melted into my arms when I carried her to the bath? She looked up at me with such a soft, nervous gaze as I gently washed her body. I haven't been able to think straight since I dropped her off.
Southpaw found one of Oske's runaway brothers, so she's back on the rez with him "discussing the land issue". She ignores my demands for another appointment with Keyshawn and simply tells me that "she's gone out East" .
East where? Where the FUCK could Keyshawn possibly be and why the hell would she block my number?
I need help -- urgently. The only Barbarians nearby right now are Owen Shaw and Ruger Blackwood. Either of them can run the casino while I'm gone, although Owen has so much business in Vegas, I doubt he'll want the trouble. So he'll have to call Ruger and make sure he doesn't murder Seneca or Moses. Or both of them.
I message both of them that I need them urgently at my establishment to help me count money from the week. It's not exactly a lie, but it gets both of their attention. I make more money than one person can count alone every week and the more I have, the more trouble it is to wash it through a legal establishment. I would rather get the cash all balled up and pay my closest friends in whatever they can carry.
Ruger has a baby on the way and Owen always needs money because of the gambling, so they both eagerly respond to my pleas for help. I drive to the club with seething awareness that I'm acting like a fucking lunatic. My rage spills out everywhere.
I want her so badly it hurts and it seems like I'll have to wait. I'll do exactly what I promised when I find her. I'll make Keyshawn pay for every painful day of separation. I'll do whatever I must to make sure I never have to endure this type of separation again.
I will make sure this woman never leaves me. Ruger arrives first, immediately perceiving my anger.
"Did I fucking do something?"
"No. Not this time."
"Good," Ruger says. "Zayna is driving me crazy."
I raise an eyebrow. I have never heard him complain about Zayna before.
Ruger shrugs and continues. I have no interest in being this man's psychiatrist, but I need his help so I have to listen without being a dick.
"I tattooed her about a week ago and now she keeps wanting me to... do stuff to her in front of a mirror. Like ten times a day. I need to sleep. I'm building a house from scratch and I need to get it done before the baby comes..."
I have only ever heard Ruger speak in this much detail about skinning animals. Seriously. I'm too dumbfounded to stay angry.
"Be patient," I offer. "She's pregnant. Enjoy all the fucking while you can because when the baby comes... you're fucked."
Ruger might be a lot of things, but patient is not one of them. His screwed up face reddens with his frustration.
"I don't care about that," Ruger says. "I just want her to be happy but... I'm so fucking tired I can't think straight."
I don't think sleep is the problem with that particular issue, but Owen's arrival causes me to bite my tongue. Life has been good for Owen Shaw ever since he moved to Las Vegas. His old lady has a head for business, and Owen has made a big fuss over her applying to get her MBA. It’s some fancy degree for running a company and he can’t stop yapping about “going legit”.
He has a big ass smile on his face, which causes me a queasy sort of guilt over the secret I’m keeping for his brother. I don’t know what excuse Ethan gave for his sudden move, but he couldn’t have told Owen the truth based on his calm demeanor. Those boys all love their mother more than life itself.
“I won,” Owen says with a gleam in his eye. I should have known a grin that big could only be connected to a gambling win.
“What’d you win?” Ruger asks. “I have some money I’d like to invest if it’s a sure thing. ”
Ruger would be an idiot to follow any of Owen’s financial advice. But I hold my tongue.
“My parlay hit. Winnipeg Jets are on a fourteen game winning streak just like I predicted, then I reinvested the money on a white-bellied goldfish in Chinese fish roulette.”
“What the fuck is Chinese fish roulette?” I just have to ask. Owen finds a way of gambling on the most obscure shit you’ve ever heard of in your life. He got Ethan addicted to German pretzel cutting for five months.
“You watch these livestreams,” Owen explains. “And these Chinese women have all these colored cards in a tank. They drop the fish in and you guess where he’s gonna swim. Foolproof way to grow your money.”
“That sounds a bit difficult,” Ruger asks with genuine confusion. He might not be educated, but he still has more sense than Owen Shaw.
“I’m intuitive about that kind of thing,” Owen says. “Remember how many summer fishing records I broke during camping season when we were kids?”
“Not particularly,” Ruger says. “I don’t know how you could say where a fish is gonna go. That’s all.”
“It’s a lot easier than gerbil roulette.”
“I think I’d better stick with Deacon when it comes to business,” Ruger answers.
I doubt anything but the worst news could drag Owen down from his high right now. But at least we’re back to the business talk. With a little effort, Owen can convince you that he has magical gambling abilities which only rarely ever pan out.
“Running this business is not as hard as you think,” I tell them. “You just need to make sure you count the money and get it to the right places so we can put it through the distillery, the laundromat, and all the other businesses”
Their payment will be whatever they can carry. We make too much from black market gambling for me to care about how much money they take. I can always lure Owen back to my card tables if he gets unfair.
“Where the fuck are you going anyway?” Owen asks, glancing down at his phone as a loud ESPN notification pings.
“Chasing a woman,” I answer him, mostly because I’m tired of the club members giving me shit for my lifestyle because I choose to have frequent meaningless sex and keep everything about it private.
“Not a man?” Ruger asks. “Been a long time since I’ve seen you with a girlfriend. I thought you changed over.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“What woman? A biker chick?” Owen asks.
“No. I don’t know anything about her except… She’s a friend of Oske’s.”
Owen laughs. “Then somehow, brother. You’re falling for a scam.”
I have to try not to let him get under my skin, but I can’t lie, the comment pushes at the edges of my irritation. What does he mean by that? There was no scam with Keyshawn. She was perfect. Her ass was perfect. I enjoyed every minute of our time together from the time I walked in the door to the way I bathed her after spanking bruises all over her ass.
Even with the guys, that kind of talk is far too much. It’s better to bite my tongue. Ruger doesn’t share Owen’s distaste. He shrugs.
“Oske isn’t as smart as she thinks,” Ruger says. “If there’s a scam, you’ll find out soon enough. Either way you end up with a woman so it’s a win win.”
“You think I want a scammer in my bed?”
“If you dick her down right, you can change her.”
“I’m ready to call it a night…” I mutter.
Ruger giving me relationship advice makes me feel screwed. I need to call Tamiya for the intel and then hit the road… East to wherever the fuck she might be. She doesn’t seem like she has any Detroit in her, so I doubt she went all the way up to Michigan. Maybe she has family in Chicago. Lots of folks do…
I don’t want to wait. I want to find this woman and bring her back to my house. I have never wanted a woman back in my playroom this badly. This need feels more urgent than I expected and without release, I feel my anger building up.
Women are so heartless when they leave, yet acting on that storm of emotions they force you to feel is so taboo. There’s nothing for you to do with your feelings as a man. You can’t cry… you can’t hurt things… you just have to go numb.