Chapter 4
Camo
A s I walk past the cottage we need to creep into, I let my fingers glide over the white picket fence that surrounds it.
Pres sent me on a job with Rush and Shift. We have been tasked with finding a fucking banshee and cutting a lock of hair from her to hand over to a wizard. A creepy fucking wizard if you ask me.
He needs a lock of her hair for some spell that he wants to cast, but he had to disclose that shit to Pres before he agreed to the job.
Winger would never put the people of Massachusetts at risk if he could help it.
We may be a fucked-up club of misfit supernaturals, but we do have some morals— not many, but some.
“The door is unlocked,” comes Shift’s voice.
The fucker is a handy man to have around when breaking into places as he was trained from a young boy to be a master thief. His power was also used to gain what was needed.
Shift has the power of hallucination, meaning he can make you see, feel, and hear things that are not real.
I grip the doorknob, turning it and slipping inside the little cottage where this banshee lives. A fire still roars, filling the house with warmth. The decor reminds me of Skyla.
Fucking stubborn woman.
I have not gone to see or reached out to her in nearly a week now, but shit, she has been on my mind.
“She is sleeping. Do your thing, brother,” Rush whispers while he looks for some other shit.
As soon as I step into her bedroom, I touch the bed frame, a large wooden four-poster bed, camouflaging myself in case she wakes up.
Staring down at this young woman, who looks innocent as she sleeps, I reach down and cut a lock of her hair, having no fucking clue if it is enough. Tucking the scissors away, I pick up the lock and slowly step out of the room.
She stirs, making me freeze on the spot, gripping the dresser behind me, watching as she rolls over, snorts a little, then settles.
“Fucking hell,” I breathe out, before backing out of the room, keeping my eye on the deadly woman sleeping in the bed.
Meeting my brothers in the living room, Rush is sitting on the sofa, feet kicked up on the coffee table, munching on a caramel patisserie, while Shift is drinking a bottle of beer.
“I can’t take you anywhere.” I shake my head, chuckling at them.
“The chick had good beer,” Shift jokes.
“Come on. Let’s go before she wakes. Plus, I have a solo job. Meet you fuckers back at the clubhouse.”
We leave her cottage, strolling back to our bikes.
“What job you going to?” Rush asks as he mounts his bike.
“A woman hired us to take out her lawyer ex-husband. The cunt raped their son and got away with it. A job I will take great pleasure in doing.”
Shift holds his fist out to me, which I bump before we both take to our bikes. They head back to the club, while I ride off in the direction of the penthouse suite this fucker lives in with his new woman, who we have found out is just as much of a cunt as the one she is fucking.
It takes me nearly an hour to get to my destination. Parking my bike in an alley behind a dumpster, I pull my leather jacket collar up, fending off some of the cold breeze that is blowing.
My fingertips brush against the cold glass as I enter the main door to the building. It is all modern and cold looking. Walking past the security guard who is on duty, I smile knowing that the fucker cannot see me.
Looking over his shoulder, I see that he is watching porn on his phone, some couple fucking while wearing latex suits. Kinky fuck.
Chuckling, a sound slips out, making the guard jump and look around, his eyes filled with shock and fear.
Moving down to the bank of elevators, I touch the button so it opens for me, then slip inside. With my foot on the wall keeping me invisible to the human eye, my hands are free to take my phone out and I look at a photo I took of Skyla one night.
The one and only photo I allow myself to have of her.
I couldn’t bring myself to collect more. I know she means something to me, and it would gut me if she got hurt, which is why I cannot offer her more. My need to protect her overpowers my need to have her.
The elevator dings, alerting me to the floor that I need. The doors slide open, revealing a tacky looking penthouse apartment. White and chrome walls and furniture. Shitty expensive art hanging on the wall.
Stopping next to a glass table with an ugly glass vase sitting in the middle, I have the urge to lift the thing and drop it, making it smash into a million pieces, but I do not want to alert everyone that I am here.
Moving through the place, I snarl seeing the cunt has images of his son in photo frames, with his arm around him. Anyone paying attention can tell that his kid looks scared of him. The boy’s eyes portray his fear.
Pres got the layout of the apartment and made me memorize that shit so I could get in and out without being detected.
Like that would ever happen.
Locating the room I know is the primary bedroom, I carefully turn the door handle, pushing the door open.
I grimace seeing the large four-poster bed in the center of the room, clear curtains hanging from its corners.
Both of the sick fucks are sleeping soundly in the bed, with a white noise sound filling the room, as well as a diffuser puffing some smelly shit into the air around them.
Shaking my head, I step closer. A snarl sounds from me as I see the cunt sleeping soundly while his son still sleeps in fear of his father coming into his room. Dressed in silk pajamas, he lays next to the bitch who is just as evil as he is.
This bitch likes to cause chaos in people’s lives, and in some instances those people have taken their own lives to escape the shit she has caused them.
Moving around to her side of the bed, I make myself visible again before tapping her on the nose like the bad bitch dog she is.
She jerks away, screaming when she sees me. I smile down at her, soaking in the fear that is coming off her in waves. My body is buzzing with the need to spill her blood.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
The cunt next to her wakes up, and the smell of fear doubles.
“Why do you fuckers always ask the same questions? It does not matter who I am, bitch, or what I want, because you will not live long enough to do anything about it, but I will tell you why I am here.”
“We have money,” the sniveling prick says, as he pulls the woman in front of his body.
She looks horrified that he is using her as a shield and tries to move away, but he is stronger and holds firm.
“You are a pathetic coward, Howie. Using your woman as a human shield, but I can tell you now that it will not help you. You are going to die tonight,” I happily inform them.
“Why?” she cries, tears and snot running down her face.
“Well, see” —I grin at her — “you like to hurt people, don’t ya?
Hurt them so much that they un-alive themselves to get away from the life-altering chaos that you caused them.
And you.” I turn my face to the fucker behind her.
“You like to rape little boys. Your own flesh and blood, and for that, you get to die a slow, painful death.”
He whimpers, and I laugh.
Savoring the fear from them both, my blood pounds through my veins, adrenaline making me amped up and ready to see blood spill.
Taking the blade from my holster, stepping closer, their fear ramps up, pleasing me. With each passing second, my body vibrates with adrenaline, and with the knowledge that I am ending these two sickos.
Reaching out in a flash, I grip the bitch’s hair, pulling her forward before slicing the sharp blade across her throat. Blood sprays all over the cowering man; the gurgling sounds mixed with her weak attempts at screaming make me chuckle.
“Now you, fuckface.” I grin at the man.
He shakes his head, rapidly scrambling off the bed as his girlfriend dies in her own blood.
He scatters across the floor, and I rush to him, dragging the blade across his chest, making him scream out in pain.
“That is nothing compared to what I am going to do to you.”
By the time I am finished, I am covered in blood, and his body looks like it has been attacked by an animal, with all the cuts and tears I added to him to draw out his pain. I inflicted as much pain as his body would take before he passed out and his heart stopped.
Fucking shame really, because his son endured so much pain and he still has to live with the trauma.
Once I get to my bike, I start her up and ride back in the direction of the club, my blood pumping fast in my veins, my cock harder than steel in my pants. These are the times when I would go to Skyla, but since we are not talking right now, a club girl will have to fucking do tonight.
Parking my bike at the club, I march inside, nodding to Pres.
“It’s done.” I look over to Shaz and nod to her. “Come to my room in ten.” I keep walking, not stopping for anything, needing to get this fuck’s blood off me.
Getting to my room, I strip and leave my clothes on the floor outside my room, knowing that a prospect will burn that shit and clean my cut.
Hitting the shower, I wash off the now dry and crusty blood from my skin, my cock thick and hard, pulsing for release, as the adrenaline courses through my body. Images of Skyla on her knees for me makes my dick twitch and leak.
I punch the wall, denting the white tiles in anger at the shit that is playing out between us right now.
Stepping from my shower, I don’t bother drying off, meeting Shaz in my room, already on her knees for me.
“Suck it.” Growling, I step to her, her willing mouth open and ready.
I close my eyes as her mouth encases my raging hard-on. I stick to the images of Skyla sucking me off in her room, my body filled with a mixture of emotions: anger, regret, arousal, and pain, as my climax sneaks closer.
Needing this to end, I open my eyes, looking down at the club whore who looks all too happy to be pleasing me, but I snarl at her, and her eyes widen in both fear and arousal.
Gripping her head, I fuck her mouth hard and fast, not caring about her gagging on me. Her eyes water, tears stream down her face as spit slips from the corner of her lips.
My balls tighten and I come, filling her mouth and throat while holding her still, not giving her a chance to spit out my load. The feeling ebbs away as regret sits heavy in my gut.
What the fuck is that about?
“Get lost.” I wave my hand at her, not bothering to help her up off the floor.
“You are a fucking asshole, Camo,” Shaz bitches, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth.
“Been called worse. You know where the door is.” I turn my back on her, only to stiffen at her words.
“No wonder you can’t ever claim an Ol’ Lady. You could never treat a woman right.” With that, she leaves.
Shaking off her words, I climb into bed and shut off the world for a few hours so I can sleep. Little do I know that a certain woman with black and blue hair would invade my dreams.