Chapter 2
BECKY (KENZIE)
“Well, fuck me.” He growled. “She is fucking hot.”
“Pop.” Patrick pushed the hair out of his face. His lip twitched. “How’d it go in Philly?”
“Shit show, but effective.” They continued talking, but their words didn’t reach my senses. Thank God, Patrick averted his father’s attention before I reacted. As far as I knew, I hadn’t been in a room with my father since I was six years old.
And here he was, in the flesh. My destiny set me on a path to ruin the Infinity Kings.
My life’s ambition, to kill my father with as much pain and humiliation as possible.
I had visions of a gang of heavily endowed black gang members doing to him what he allowed to be done to my mother.
An eye for an eye, or pain for pain. Poetic justice at its finest. Besides the fantasy, I hadn’t planned on how it would go down.
I was all about the long game, infiltrate the club, do what I had to do to get close to him, and slowly and meticulously take them out one by fucking one.
“Jesus.” My father turned in my direction. His eyes narrowed as if he’d heard my thought. “Girl.” He snapped his fingers.
I blinked and stepped forward.
“Sorry.” I flipped my pad, trying to find something to ground me and prevent me from leaping over the booth and breaking this man’s neck in front of twenty of his men.
Once I killed him and watched him take his last breath, I figured it would be my last breath in life, too.
As long as he went first, it would almost be worth it.
“What can I get you?” I hated the fear in my voice.
I wasn’t afraid of them. In front of this group, I found that showing fear was a more acceptable response, though I was enraged. I had to keep up the facade.
“Go grab us some burgers off the grill and some beers for my boys and me.” He reached out to grab my ass, but I leaped out of his reach.
Unfortunately, I fell right into the arms of a big, burly looking biker with a head and face full of greasy dark brown hair.
He wrapped his meaty paw around my waist and flicked my left nipple with his pudgy fingers.
He nuzzled my neck and licked me. The other guys chuckled.
His breath smelled of rotten eggs. My stomach turned.
I pushed away, but he tightened his grip and laughed.
I palmed the knife in my apron, but before I could sink it into his fat fucking face and pry myself out of his clutches, his left arm retreated. He nudged me out of the way.
I spun around, and the big, burly dude was on the ground, his arm bent at an awkward angle, while Reid snarled and threatened to break it.
“She’s mine.” He growled in the hairy man’s ear, but loud enough for the whole diner to hear. And for good measure, the snap of two fingers echoed off the walls.
“Well, that explains it.” Sonny chuckled and slapped the counter. “No wonder we found you at this hellhole.”
The assholes had the nerve to laugh.
“Burgers up,” Murray yelled from the back and hit the bell with his spatula. Reid had let go of the biker and helped him up. He straightened his cut and patted the guy on the beard with a grin. The bearded guy seemed to appreciate that his arm was still attached to his body.
“All you had to do was say.” The bearded guy shrugged and sauntered off to the other side of the diner. He realigned his fingers and chugged a bottle of beer.
I slipped behind the counter and grabbed three plates of burgers and fries. I walked them to the table and set them down.
“Help her.” Patrick pointed near the door, and two guys in prospect cuts jumped to attention. One jumped over the counter and grabbed food and drinks and serve them.
I walked back toward the counter. I had to slide around Reid, but he stilled me with his eyes. “Why don’t you have a seat over there and stay out of trouble.” He pointed to the end of the counter. “We’ll be out of your hair soon.”
He patted my butt. I gasped and refrained from slapping him on the back of his head.
We skirted past each other. His breath smelled of mint and sent a chill up my spine.
He brushed a kiss against my cheek, and my knees went weak again.
I smiled up at him, again falling right into the part.
Not the one I would have chosen, but it might keep me alive and not gang raped.
For tonight, anyway.
But I couldn’t sit. I wiped down the chairs and tables, took beers out of the cooler, and placed them on the counter.
I patted the pocket on my apron and gasped.
The two knives were gone. I glared at Reid, who was spinning one in his hand while surveying the room.
I finished rolling the rest of the silverware in napkins and slid another knife in my apron.
And I listened. Sonny had referred to Patrick and Reid as his sons.
I assumed Patrick. He had a hint of red in his hair and the same jawline.
I’d discovered a photo of my father when he was young in my mom’s stuff.
She kept it in a box in the back of her closet.
It was one of the few things I took before the police whisked me away from the only home I’d ever known.
I blinked the grief away before it overtook me.
I had to stay focused if I was going to get myself out of this mess.
“Listen, Halloween is coming up soon.” Sonny took a sip of his beer. I spotted the box of rat poising behind the counter. I could have slipped a little into it before serving him.
Fucking missed opportunity.
“We have the party. A truce between the gangs, so they won’t be expecting any trouble.” Sonny wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It shook. Maybe he had an incurable disease. No, a fatal illness would let him off the hook too easily.
“Pops, taking out Angelo’s family will send the wrong message.” Patrick spun a bottle cap across the table. Sonny slammed his hand down on it. The entire room went silent.
“What message will it send, son?” Sonny leaned in. Patrick leaned back. Reid remained hunched with his arms on the table, spinning the knife rhythmically. He feigned disinterest, but the tension in the back of his neck showed he was in tune with the entire room. Every word and every move.
“That the only way to hurt each other is to hurt each other, but it never ends. It doesn’t solve the actual problem.” Patrick shrugged. “It doesn’t get us closer to where we need to be.”
“You mean where you want to be.” He patted Patrick on his right cheek. He flinched but played it off. “Listen, son, the club will be yours when I’m dead, but you know what?”
Sonny spun the same bottle cap. It traveled across the table and settled in front of Patrick. Before he could react, Sonny slammed his hand on the table, stood up, and got in Patrick’s face. “I’m not fucking dead yet.”
The room erupted in cheers. Sonny stepped onto the vinyl seat and up onto the table before jumping down into the middle of the diner.
“Get your best costumes on, my friends, because on Saturday night, we are going to fuck stuff up, and it’s best you do not look like yourselves.” Sonny cackled, grabbed a beer, and chugged it. He blew a spray of beer across the diners, dousing his adoring fans. The crowd went wild.
He was like a king, like a god. These men worshipped him. Every last sick and disgusting one of them. All except Patrick and Reid. They didn’t take part in the revelry. They sat back, heads together, whispering.
I approached their table to clear it.
“Hey.” Sonny turned his attention to me.
Reid pulled me onto his knee and wrapped a hand around my waist.
“You bring the pretty lady to the party?” Sonny pointed.
I attempted to move, but Reid tightened his grip.
“Yeah, bring her.” Sonny chuckled. “Give the place some class.” He took another sip of someone else’s beer, but thankfully, he swallowed it.
“Let’s go, boys.” He pointed to Patrick. “Come on, son. You ride up front with me. Reid might need a minute or three.” He sneered, wiped his mouth, and stumbled outside. With any luck, he’d pull out onto the highway and get hit by a bus.
Patrick stood up from his seat and leaped over the booth with the agility of a cat. He turned and gripped the red vinyl booth. “See you back home.” He nodded but stopped and stared.
“What?” I wiped a stray hair out of my eyes.
“Nothing.” He pushed his own hair out of his face. “You look familiar.” He didn’t wait for me to respond. He winked and followed his father out into the dark Pennsylvania night. The other guys followed.
The silence in the empty diner was short-lived as biker after biker jump-started their bikes. It sounded like a freight train rolling outside the windows. In a few minutes, the noise faded into welcome silence.
“You can let go now.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He loosened his grip and helped me stand.
I missed his touch already. He was so fucking beautiful, it would be a waste when I had to ruin him, too.
I scooted behind the counter. “What exactly are you sorry for?” I needed to put some distance between myself and those haunting gray eyes.
“Shouldn’t I be sorry?” He slid onto a counter seat.
“No, you should but just wanted to know if you knew why.” I wiped the counter.
“If you even had a remote clue.” The stained counter was as clean as it was going to be.
I kept wiping the counter, anything to distract myself.
My right hand slipped into my apron—empty.
The knife was gone again. My eyes snapped to him. Fucking pickpocket.
Reid tossed the knife onto the counter. I grabbed it and slid my finger down the edge. It wasn’t sharp, but with some effort, I could plunge it into . . .
He placed his hand on mine.
“Hey.” I pulled back. “I think you’ve manhandled me enough for one day.”
“Manhandled.” He smirked.
“Yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “One of many things you should apologize for. Didn’t your father teach you not to touch a woman without permission?”
He shrugged.
“Or maybe consent isn’t a concept you’re familiar with.” I turned my back to him and occupied my hands with straightening the coffee cups on the shelf. “Again, something your father must have forgotten.”
“Well, he was killed when I was a kid, so yeah, probably didn’t work those two conversations in before he died.”
I spun around on my heels and captured his gaze for a second before he averted his eyes. His bright eyes turned dull and dead. It lasted a second.
“Anyway.” He knocked on the counter. “Where’s the pie you promised me?”
“What?” I blinked and leaned forward.
“Day-old pie.” He pointed to the stand behind me. “Whatcha got?”
“Don’t you have to be going?”
He leaned forward. Our faces were a few inches apart, too close for my comfort.
“Becky.” Murray waddled down the middle of the diner toward us, waving the stack of cash in his hands.
“You give this young man anything he wants.” He took a sharp left turn, upending a chair, and stepped out the door.
He paused to inhale the fresh air. “Millie’s heading out.
Clean up the place and take the weekend off. ” He continued counting the money.
“What?” I ran out from behind the counter and followed him. He sauntered toward his truck. “The weekend is the only time we have traffic in this shithole.” I needed those two shifts to get me over the top and ready for my plan.
“Don’t need to.” He shoved the money into a plastic bag and shoved it under the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
“What about my tips?” He owed me for the week.
He climbed into the dilapidated truck. The door screeched as he shut it. I opened it. “Murray. I need my tips for the week.”
“We’ll settle up next week.” He yanked the door out of my grasp and rolled down the window.
“Or you can come by my place tonight.” He reached out with his meaty fingers.
I hopped back. “You know where I live.” He sucked his teeth and laughed.
He turned the key. The engine coughed a few times before catching and turning over.
“Fuck!” I whispered.
“Yep.” He winked. “I’ll be home all weekend.”
I stepped back. No way was I going to meet him at his place. I was crazy but not stupid. And if that man touched me, I would go completely feral on his ass.
“I’ll see you later.” He reached for the gearshift.
“Not so fast, Murray.” Reid had rounded the truck and had slid into the passenger seat.
I didn’t even hear him walk out. He must have feline in his genes.
Murray would have wondered the same thing if he didn’t have more important things to worry about.
Like the foot-long knife currently digging into his fatty jaw.
“What the fuck?” Murray’s eyes grew wide. He turned his head slowly to see who had interrupted his hero’s exit.
“Give the woman her money.” A trickle of blood made it way down Murray’s neck. “Now.”