1. Poker
CHAPTER 1
POKER
I don’t have anything to stop me from going down that rabbit hole of fantasy.
Present day…
“Hey, baby.”
I frown at Kitty, the Bangin’ Betty who currently has her hand down the front of my pants. When she was walking toward me, I tried to avert my eyes, but she doesn’t know how to take a hint. I grab her by the wrist and yank her hand free of my jeans.
“Not interested,” I snarl.
She stares up at me from beneath her fake eyelashes and pouts. “Since when, baby?”
Good question.
“Does it matter?” I counter, my brow arched dangerously high.
Sensing my annoyance, Kitty slowly backs away with her hands up. “Yeah, yeah, okay. But don’t come cryin’ to me later when your balls are blue.”
With that, she spins on her heel and stalks toward the corner where several of my brothers are shooting the shit. That’s the thing with Kitty… She doesn’t give a rat’s ass whose dick she rides, as long as the owner of said dick has a patch.
Soulless King MC patches might as well be a pussy magnet, they work so well.
“You feeling okay?”
I glance over my shoulder to see Screamer staring at me like I’ve got two heads.
“Yeah, why?”
His eyes dart across the room to Kitty before settling back on me. “I don’t remember the last time you turned down that cunt,” he says.
I shrug. “Like I told her, not interested.” Bring my beer bottle to my lips, I ignore the warmth of the liquid and down the remainder in one long gulp.
“Since when?” my brother asks.
Slamming the empty bottle onto the bar, I wave at Jimmy, the prospect bartending at the clubhouse tonight, signaling him to get me another.
“Jesus, what do you care?”
“Don’t care,” Screamer states. “But it’s weird, and I don’t like weird.”
“I’m fine, brother,” I say with a sigh. “Just not in the mood to fuck is all.”
“Would this have anything to do with a certain bitch in a green dress?” he asks, knowing me too fucking well for his own good.
My cock hardens painfully as an image of the woman in the green dress invades my mind. Her sultry brown eyes and long chestnut hair, coupled with the makeup she only wears during her game nights, are sexy as fuck, but those aren’t the things about her that’s ruined me for any other chick.
It’s the way she handles the customers at Ballinger’s Bar when they get a little too rowdy, and the way she flirts for bigger tips. It’s the smile she’s always wearing when I walk into the bar and her natural beauty that have dug their claws into my dick and won’t let go.
Shaking my head, I flip Screamer off. “If it had anything to do with her, don’t you think I’d be at Ballinger’s instead of here?”
He grins. “Considering you’ve got a guest coming for the Nightmare Room, no, I don’t.”
At the reminder of the scumbag currently being transported to the clubhouse, I cracked my knuckles. As the club’s enforcer, the Nightmare Room is like a second home to me. It’s where I feel most comfortable.
Well, there and a certain abandoned warehouse.
I push away from the bar and stalk toward the door that will lead me to the stairs. Screamer practically cackles behind me, but I tune him out.
When I reach the lowest level of the clubhouse, the motion-activated lights flicker on as I walk down the hall toward the steel door to the Nightmare Room. I press my hand to the biometric lock, and the door slides open. As soon as I step into the space, my thoughts quiet, and my tense muscles loosen.
Taking my time, I gather weapons from the wall and set them out on the table below. I ensure that the meat hooks and chains attached to the ceiling are secure, and then, I wait.
It isn’t long until I hear the sound of a body being dragged down the hall toward the room I occupy. My blood sings at the noise, and any thoughts of another place, a certain woman, disappear.
“Dammit, he’s out cold,” I snap when Ghost and Jackyl stride through the doorway with the elementary school principal.
“But alive,” Jackyl retorts with a smirk.
A growl climbs up my throat, and I swallow it down. The fucker’s right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I watch as my brothers drape the man’s bound wrists over the hook, and when they let go of his body, he jerks awake at the pain of his shoulders popping. He whips his head around, taking in his surroundings, and I know the exact moment he realizes he’s fucked because his eyes widen and spark with fear.
“Where am I?” he demands, his voice steadier than I expect.
I tilt my head. “Does it matter?” Ghost and Jackyl back out of the room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, I advance on the man. “Cat got your tongue?”
“N-no, it d-doesn’t m-matter,” he stutters.
Grinning, I lift the serrated knife I’m holding and press the point into his crotch. He tries to distance himself but fails because of his restraints.
“Mr. Gromley, do you like your job?” I ask, circling his swaying body. “Do you think you’re good at your job?”
“I-I don’t k-know what you w-want me to s-say.”
“Answer the questions,” I sneer.
He swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing, and I swear I hear it thunk.
“Love the job,” he spits out.
“But you love the access it grants you to the kiddos more, isn’t that right?”
His nostrils flare at the reminder of his extracurricular activities, and I have to swallow the bile that climbs up the back of my throat, knowing that the mere thought of said activities is turning him on.
Anyone who gets their jollies from little kids is sick and twisted and deserving of a one-way ticket to Hell.
“I d-don’t know what y-you’re talking a-about,” he lies.
“Wrong thing to say,” I snarl just before shifting my knife and plunging it into his gut, reveling in the way the life seeps from his gaze.
I could’ve drawn this out, savored his pain and made him suffer, but sometimes, quick is necessary. Taking my cell out of my cut, I shoot off a text to Jimmy, ordering him to come clean up.
As soon as I exit the room, my thoughts return to her , and I don’t have anything to stop me from going down that rabbit hole of fantasy.