Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
Jax
The world is narrowed to nothing but my boot and Arnold’s throat. Everything else is a throbbing red and black at the edges of my vision. He touched her. His greasy hands sullied her skin. It was a violation. A theft. The image of his fingers digging into her flesh, grabbing and pulling…
I push down harder, the heel of my boot grinding against his windpipe. The satisfaction is white-hot. Kira Noland is mine—I catch her rigid form in my peripheral. No one touches what’s mine and lives.
“Come on,” Arnold gurgles at the sudden intensity, clawing at my soles. “Don’t let a bitch get the better of you. Let Uncle Arnie up.”
My fist clenches. There was a time, when I was too young and too stupid to understand, that I thought of Arnold as an uncle.
He was around more than James. He taught me how to ride a bike and how to shave with a razor blade.
He’s the one who showed me how to aim a gun so that when James took me hunting, I wouldn’t have to miss and take the beating that followed.
But that was a long time ago, and I’ve known for years now that Arnold was never an uncle.
He was a handler. A leash James kept tight around my throat, disguised as a guiding hand.
Every so-called lesson was just another chain welded into place, making sure I grew up brutal enough to serve but obedient enough not to stray.
Now he’s choking under me, and I wonder how many times he’s replayed the same scene with someone smaller, weaker—someone who didn’t have the strength to fight back.
The glint in his eyes says it’s plenty. It says he wants to do it to Kira too.
Kira, who shifts behind me, is probably able to see it too.
He might be laughing, thinking we have some sort of kinship, but the moment his fingers touched Kira, he signed his death warrant.
What twisted bonds and ties I had to him are ashes in the wind now.
And if James wasn’t already paying attention, if I wasn’t already hanging by the thinnest of threads, Arnold would already be a corpse bleeding into the grass.
But I have to be patient. I’ll get rid of him the way I do for clients.
Cleanly. No traces. Just the way he taught me.
But first… a little teaser.
My boot slides off his throat, but not in mercy.
I just need to give my fist some room. The crunch of cartilage under my knuckles is better than any high money can buy.
Blood bursts from his nose, flooding his twisted smile as he gasps and spits.
I glance at Kira over my shoulder, making sure she sees what he deserves.
“We’re done,” I say to the piece of shit on the ground, my voice low, shaking with rage.
I press my fingers into his jaw, tilting his head back as it drops another octave in an attempt to find some restraint.
“Did you hear me? I don’t want to catch you in my sight again.
You do what you need to for James, but you stay the fuck away from me.
And don’t ever,” I grip him tighter to pull him up and then slam his head into the ground, “put your filthy fucking hands on her again. Do you understand?”
His eyes flutter and swim in their sockets.
“Do you understand?!” I bite out.
He chuckles, but the sound is weak in his daze. “Sure, Jaxy,” he slurs.
Disgust crawls up my arm, and I let him go, not sure I can keep my hands on him and keep him alive at the same time. Kira exhales behind me.
“Get up,” I say, straightening. “Get out of here. Now.”
He turns onto his side, spits, and then stumbles to his knees, though his pride stays on the ground as he wobbles to his feet. Blood streaks down his shirt as I watch him take haggard breaths, and I relish the damage I’ve wanted to do for years.
“You’re gonna regret this, boy,” Arnold says once he steadies himself, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.
“Funny, I was going to say the same thing.”
His eyes narrow with fury and calculation, the threat of retaliation clear. He nods as if to seal the message, but he’s wise to keep his eyes on only me as he hobbles toward the carport.
I wait until he’s gone and the sound of his engine disappears down the drive. Only then do I let the red and black haze recede from my vision, and the world comes back into focus. Slowly, I let my fists unclench and the blood flow back into them, still hot with rage.
Finally turning to Kira, I blow out a breath.
“Tell me you’re alright, or I’m going to get in my car and kill him now.”
Her eyes flick to the long driveway, then back to me. Her shoulders are tight as she hesitates. “Would it be bad if I lied and said I’m not so that you would?”
I blink, caught between disbelief and the savage thrill that sparks in my chest. “You don’t need to lie. If you want him gone now, I’ll do it.”
It wouldn’t be clean, but I’ll suffer the consequences if it proves to her that I’d do anything for her.
James can hang me by my own chains, and I wouldn’t care.
Not if it meant she understood the lengths I would go to keep her safe and that the things she abhors about me are the exact things that can get it done.
I’ve killed for clients, strangers, people I didn’t give a fuck about, and I loathed every second of it.
But for her? For Kira Noland? I’d carve the skin off of anyone she points a finger at and relish in it. All she has to do is say the word.
Her brow furrows, then her eyes widen as if she can see the truth carved into my face. “You’re serious,” she guffaws.
I step closer, dipping my head to meet her eyes. “Give the order.”
She hesitates, her gaze darting to my knuckles where Arnold’s blood is already caking. Finally, she loses the incredulity. “No,” she says. “Don’t. It’s… not worth it.”
I close the space between us, catch her arm, and lift it. His handprint mars her skin in ugly shadows. “Not worth it?” I brush my fingers over the bruises, wishing I could erase them. “He touched you. He violated you. What do you mean, ‘not worth it’?”
“I’m fine.” She takes her arm back and covers the marks with her free hand, as if keeping them out of my sight will stop me from wanting to rip his throat out. But my breath is already accelerating again, and I eye the carport, picturing my keys on the nightstand in the house.
“Really, I’m okay.” Her voice reins me in, drawing me back. She folds her arms, chin lifting. “And actually, I had it handled.”
That flash of self-satisfaction does something to me.
The way her chin tips up and the little arch in her brow, the spark of pride in her eyes.
It cuts through the storm in my chest. My lip curves despite myself, pride forcing its way past the fury.
She handled herself, and fuck if that doesn’t make me want her.
“I saw,” I admit, and then add, “but that wasn’t nearly enough punishment.”
She rolls her eyes as if I’m not one thought away from going after him.
“Should I show you what it feels like?” she asks.
“I’m pretty sure you already used that move on me. I don’t need a reminder.”
“Yeah, well, he went down like you’re supposed to when you take a knee to the balls.”
I huff a laugh. “I don’t fall so easily.”
Her smile grows wry, eyes dancing. “Says the guy who slept in a chair for a week.”
I cock my head. Her words are like a punch to the chest. My eyes lock onto her mouth, the way she presses her lips together to hide her grin, making heat crawl under my skin.
“Are you insinuating that I’ve fallen for you, Kira Noland?” I take a sudden, possessive step closer, and her lips part as she sucks in a breath, big eyes gazing up at me. “Because I don’t think that would be a good look.”
“W—why not?” she asks, throat bobbing as she swallows. I let my knuckles brush the hair there, feeling her pulse flutter.
“Falling for someone who despises me?” I twirl a strand around my finger. “That would be pathetic, wouldn’t it?”
I could give two fucks how pathetic I seem. I’m enraptured. Riveted. Taken. Whipped. And I do. not. care.
“I don’t—” she starts, breath catching, eyes searching mine, when a sharp crunch of tires on gravel breaks the moment.
I snap my head up, and my muscles tense at what I see.
Fuck.