144. Sterling
Chapter 144
Sterling
I give the man’s ankle a violent jerk, and I feel something pop in the joint as I drag him off the steps.
Courtney’s door clicks shut.
I know he’s going to scream any second now.
I twist his already injured ankle. Hard.
He turns with the movement—the body’s natural reaction to try to stop the pain.
But that just puts him flat on his back. Which is exactly where I want the Fucking Creep.
I drop on top of him.
Straddling his torso.
His eyes are wide. His face covered in blood from his broken nose.
And I’m too furious to be controlled.
Controlled is the last thing I feel.
His mouth opens.
But I can’t let him speak.
If I hear a single word. If he tries to lie to me. If he tries to justify himself. I’ll kill him.
And I need him silent.
I will not let him terrorize my girl .
Releasing my rage, I slam my fist into his chest.
I hear the air get stuck in his lungs.
His diaphragm is seizing.
It’s not a death blow.
But it’ll keep him quiet.
The thud of Courtney locking her deadbolt settles over me.
She’s safe.
And I’m going to keep her that way.
I throw another punch.
My knuckles collide with his cheekbone.
My other fist connects with the other side of his face.
I think about what would have happened if I wasn’t following him.
I punch his already broken nose.
He tries to push me away.
I think about the fear Courtney would have felt if he’d shoved through her door behind her.
I grip one of his hands in both of mine.
And I squeeze.
I squeeze as hard as I fucking can.
He writhes.
He claws at me with his other hand.
But I’m picturing Courtney’s eyes full of fear.
I’m remembering her telling me how no one has ever been rough with her.
And I’m thinking about how I want that to be her truth forever.
I feel the crunch.
Feel the fragile hand bones failing.
And I squeeze fucking harder.
His diaphragm finally releases, and he drags in precious oxygen.
I drop his hand and punch him in the face again.
He grunts.
Knees pound against my back as he rocks side to side below me.
I reach back and thrust my fist down.
My form isn’t good, but it’s good enough.
I do it again.
And again .
His tiny dick taking each hit.
A sharp cry finally leaves him.
I lean forward and slug him in the chest again.
If this motherfucker dies from lack of oxygen, that’s on him.
He swings at me with his unbroken hand.
And I fucking grin when I catch it. “If you insist.”
My hands are already sore.
My knuckles are split.
But nothing will stop me from fucking up his second hand.
I interlock my fingers, his hand trapped between mine, and I squeeze.
I think about Courtney asleep against my chest.
I think about her fingers entwined with mine.
I think about her telling me that her mom would hold her hand like that to comfort her when she was young.
And I think about this fucking piece of shit man beneath me.
I think about the damage his hands could do.
And still gripping his crushed fingers, I wrench my hands down.
His wrist snaps.
“Uh, Boss?” Fisher’s voice breaks through the haze surrounding me.
I glance up, annoyed I didn’t hear him coming. “Yeah?”
Fisher makes a choking sound as he looks between me and the man I’m sitting on. “What’s, uh, going on?”
I hear the next set of footsteps a moment before Simpson steps up beside Fisher.
The fucking creep beneath me starts to breathe again. “H-help me.” His voice is garbled. “H-he’s killing?—”
I release his broken wrist and slam my fist into his chest again.
I think I feel a rib crack.
Good.
When I look back up, both of my employees move their gazes to Courtney’s cabin.
“Was he—” Simpson’s voice cuts off.
He thinks of Courtney as one of his daughters, and even in the dark, I can see his features shift. Rage and fear. The same mix that’s poisoning my blood .
I keep my voice low. “He was going to.” I turn back to the man and punch him in the face again. I look back up to my guys. “She doesn’t know.”
Simpson holds his hand out to me.
I’m not done with the Creep, but I still take Simpson’s hand and let him haul me up.
He grips my shoulder with his other hand, steadying me.
Adrenaline is still coursing through my body, and I take the moment to calm my breathing.
A thud sounds behind me.
Turning, I watch Fisher kick the man on the ground.
In the ribs. The leg.
When the man rolls onto his side, Fisher kicks him in the ass.
And I decide the kid is alright.