Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
It was dark by the time Eva finished tattooing for the day. She glanced at her phone. It was only seven o’clock. She hadn’t heard from Jake since she’d finished working on him earlier.
He hadn’t said another word about his plan because several of the Brothers had entered the shop and hung out shortly after she’d started working on him.
She’d pretended not to care, but her heart had pounded for hours.
She wasn’t ready to leave the compound. Not because she liked being here, but because she hadn’t ended the Brothers of Sin and danced on their metaphorical grave yet.
Maybe the hit on Judge Mason was enough.
Maybe Jake was right and this Ian Black dude would find the evidence tying them to the crime.
What if her testimony was the final nail in the coffin of the case?
Didn’t she owe it to Heather to leave with Jake, even if she hadn’t managed to take down Brandon personally?
Eva scrubbed her hands through her hair in frustration. God, she didn’t know what to do. Go with Jake and ruin all her preparation or stay here and take a chance that she could get something more?
She thought of some of the tattoos she’d done today. One of the Brothers came in to have the name of his new baby inked beneath the other names he carried on his skin. Another had wanted a swastika. The contrasts in these people never ceased to astound her.
She shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone was different and even racist criminal assholes had feelings. Too bad those tender feelings didn’t extend to all of humankind. The world would be a better place if everyone stopped hating everyone else who was different from them.
The door to her shop burst open and she jumped. Brandon Cox looked meaner than usual as he stalked into her space. Her heartrate skyrocketed. She hadn’t seen him all day, which she counted as a blessing, but he was never far from her mind. Too dangerous not to keep him there.
“Here’s how it’s gonna be, Eva.” He strutted into the confines of her shop.
“I’m tired of you being a prissy bitch. You’re gonna spread those pretty legs for me whenever and wherever I want you to.
You’re gonna suck my dick, and you’re gonna be happy about it.
No more fucking around. No more focusing on your art bullshit.
You can fuck and tattoo, and I’m done waiting for you to figure that out. ”
Fear and revulsion slid through her. Her stomach bottomed out. She backed against the wall, one hip colliding with her drafting table. If he touched her, she’d puke.
“You have an old lady, Brandon. You don’t want me. I’m nothing compared to her.”
He snorted. “That’s the thing, baby—Tiffany’s gone. Walked right on out of here this morning like her shit don’t stink. She ain’t coming back.”
Oh God. Eva darted her tongue over her lips. Had Tiffany really walked out? Or was she buried in the woods like Heather had been?
Don’t go there.
She couldn’t think about that. Absolutely couldn’t. She needed her wits, and she needed to survive.
Brandon lunged for her. The overpowering smell of whisky wafted from him as she dodged, putting her chair between them.
“You don’t want to do this, Brandon.”
“Damn sure do.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Not so drunk I can’t get it up. Now come here, baby, and give me a kiss.”
He made to grab her and she dodged left.
But then he changed course, his strong hand wrapping around her upper arm.
She hurled herself backwards, knocking him off balance just enough to break free.
When she crashed into her drafting table, she yanked open the drawer and scrambled for her gun.
Her fingers ghosted over the grip just as Brandon wrapped a fist in her hair and yanked.
Eva screamed. The gun slipped from her fingers as Brandon spun her and backhanded her. The momentum knocked her toward the table again. She launched at the drawer like an Olympian racing to the finish.
Spinning, gun in hand, she aimed at his heart. She shook like a leaf, but no way would she miss him if she had to pull the trigger. No way.
Brandon staggered to a halt, his face clouding with fury. “Put that fucking thing down, Eva.”
Elation washed through her. She finally had Brandon at the end of her weapon, and it felt good. Damn good. She could end this. End him.
“Not happening, asshole. You come near me and I’ll shoot.”
“Shoot me and your life is over. You got that, bitch?”
She squeezed the grip. “Yes, I understand. But maybe it’s worth it to me. You ever think of that?”
“Jesus, you are one crazy bitch. Think that pussy is made of gold or something?”
“No, but I think it’s mine. I get to decide who I share my body with, not you.”
Brandon smirked. “Here’s how it’s gonna go. Put that goddamn gun down, and I’ll think about letting you live.”
Like hell she would.
The door jerked open and Jake loomed in the entry. His gaze shot to her first and then over Brandon. Brandon turned sideways, darting looks between her and Jake.
“You believe this crazy bitch? Thinks she’s gonna shoot me.”
Jake held up both hands, as if she were aiming at him too. And maybe she was, because he was in the line of sight. But she couldn’t put the pistol down. No way.
Brandon would beat the shit out of her if she did. She’d end up in the woods like her sister had seven years ago.
“Why don’t we walk out of here, boss? Leave her to herself for a while. Let her calm down.”
Brandon shoved a hand through his hair and swayed a little. “Yeah, maybe so.”
He turned toward Jake, and Eva let out a shaky sigh of relief as he took a step. She lowered the gun—and then Brandon spun and lunged for her.
She fired instinctively. He dropped to the floor, clutching his arm and roaring. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, bitch! You’re through!”
Jake straddled Brandon and knocked him out with a punch to the face. Then he spun and disarmed her before dragging her toward the door.
“We have to go, Eva. Right fucking now.”