Chapter 3
Poison
Dead bones under rich clothes
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S tings and shallow burns erupt in my hands from how deeply I clench my fist, causing half-moon crescents to form in my skin.
Victor wipes one more time on his suit jacket before throwing the soiled napkins on the bar top. His stance mirrors intrigue. Thankfully, with her earpiece in, I can hear everything the weasel is saying.
“You're a sight for sore eyes,” he hums out, stepping closer to her.
She turns to look at him. “Your eyes seem fine to me.”
My girl.
Then he steps even closer, his hand landing on the small of her back. His mouth leaning closer to ear, whispering something that I can’t comprehend.
Fuck .
A giggle bubbles from her as she sips from the glass. “Coming on strong aren’t we?”
It’s his turn to laugh now. His hand drifts to the opening of her back where the skin shows, lightly slipping into the hair that I tangle with. My eyes bulge as rage sweeps into my chest. I’m this close to flying over this damn blockage of a balcony and ripping his arm from his shoulder. Then smashing it repeatedly on his head until his head splits open—like Henley’s.
“This is good, Ronan. She can lure him into his office,” Mal speaks. Almost as if she’s trying to calm me down.
I snap to Mal’s direction, glaring at her. She stands some feet down from on the same floor. “That was not the plan,” I grit out. The skin on my lip snags against my teeth. The last thing I need is him taking her back anywhere. I trust her to take care of herself. That’s never a problem. But I don’t trust that motherfucker. He’s a bug that needs to be sprayed, then squashed, then sprayed again.
Before I kill him, I will have to cut every last finger off his hand. Every crusty limb that got the opportunity to touch her skin.
“Plan a, b, g, z, remember?” She reminds me of Anita’s words.
“That's not the correct order.” I clench my jaw once more, blowing out a harsh breath. “But you’re right.”
I suffer through the interaction for five minutes until he whispers something into her ear again and then finally walks off. I could follow wherever he plans to go, but we need to stick to the plan. Now that I see Anita is free from Victor’s claws, I walk off, away from the crowd, and into the opening of a hall.
Glancing over my shoulder to be sure no one followed me, I speak into the earpiece. “Boone.”
“Down the hall,” he says in a disgruntled voice. I stride further down the corridor, then round the corner. Boone is leaning over, dragging the unconscious body of the man who grabbed him into a vacant room.
“Are you good?”
He glowers at me, then continues dragging the body. “Of course.”
Boots echo from the other direction. “We saw them come this way,” a deep baritone voice says. “We’ll check over here.”
Our eyes snapped to each other. Fuck. I rush to Boone. Kneeling over, I grab under the body's limp feet, lifting him up. I grunt out. “Heavy motherfucker.”
The steps draw closer, and the men round the hall. We rush in, throwing the body down like a rag doll. We can’t stay in the room. They’ll check in here since the door will be closing by the time they arrive. Both of us step out simultaneously, the door shutting behind us. Great.
Three large men stroll toward us, bouncing their skeptical eyes at Boone and me.
“This area is closed for guests. You both shouldn’t be here,” one of the men says. Tattoos are inked all over his neck to his bald head.
I let out a sheepish chuckle, my arm landing around Boone's neck and slapping his chest. “My boy here had a little too much to drink. I was looking for the restroom.”
Boone slouches over slightly, playing the part.
The other bodyguard doesn't seem to be falling for it from the way his brows furrow deep with a squint. “There's a sign on each corner and wall stating the direction of the bathroom.” He steps closer. “So, either you're completely stupid and can’t read or you're lying.”
My brow raises at his courage. Tatted-neck man and one with a sharp chin, land their hands on their guns. A dangerous thrill creeps into my chest, my facade diminishing.
Three.
His eyes land on the door. “Step aside.”
“I'd rather not,” I say.
Two.
Boone grunts, shifting.
“I said, step. The fuck. Aside.”
I slowly release Boone. The fire that sparked earlier burns bright, creating flames.
“Are you sure?”
He looks over at me with confusion, which morphs into anger.
“Move or you’re dead.” His gun is now pointed at me. That shit doesn’t fear me. I only smirk and step to the side. Boone leans on the wall, still pretending he's a drunk idiot.
The other two go up behind him as the first guy twists the handle, flinging it open. I grin at Boone, who stands up straight with ease. Inside the room is presenting four other men. Dead.
I look over at Boone with a ‘damn’ look.
“Kill them—” Before he barks his orders, we rush into them, kicking the other two men further in the room and slamming the door shut. They topple over, stumbling from our onslaught. We both snatch the guns from the men who never got a chance to draw their weapons, shooting them in the head before taking aim at the one in charge.
He stands back up with his gun, a sly grin on his face. The vein on his bald head protruding like it’s ready to bust. “Pussies.”
My head cocks, the flame bursting, causing a combustion. “Alright, we’ll do this fair.” I smile, like a psycho taking his pill and never swallowing it.
The man gives an impressed smirk. Excitement streams through me. Finally, someone who actually has balls. Unfortunately, he won’t have them for long.
I toss the gun to the side. He looks at it bewildered, then his gun falls, too. Boone lets out a breath, walking to the seat off to the side, and sits down.
I remove my jacket, setting it on the doorknob, then I roll up my sleeves.
My balled fist raised to my chin. My stance ready for anything. He doesn't wait; he flies at me with fast punches, eager to connect one to my face. I block them, my body shifting to the side before uppercutting him in the stomach hard enough to break his ribs, then smashing another into his jaw. He grunts out, blood spraying everywhere. I quickly back away from it. Today is one of the days I don’t need blood on me. Not yet.
“Come on, fight me,” I growl, moving around with my fist raised again.
He leans back up, wiping the crimson from his gushing mouth. He lunged back at me, connecting a fist to the side of my rib, then to my stomach. It nearly takes my breath out. I only laugh. “There we go. I like that.”
“I hope you like dying,” he snarls, coming back to me, but I’m quicker. I double punch him in the nose and again in his bruised ribs before swinging around, choking him. He heaves, twisting as much as he can, but he only gets me more excited.
“Thank you.” I breathe harshly. “I enjoy a good fight.” I picture him as Victor, and it only makes me grip even harder as his body flails and writhes. “Wish it would have lasted longer.” His nails claw at my arms. Although his size is large, he’s still no match for this particular move. I squeeze until I hear his windpipe snap. Then, and only then, I’m satisfied. I drop his body, my heart rate harsh against my chest. I lean my head back, closing my eyes. That was enjoyable. I ball up my hands, stretching my neck, the bones cracking, giving a release of pressure.
I open up, leaning down to wipe my hand on the dead man’s pants before standing back up and facing Boone, who deadpans. “What.” I roll my sleeves back down.
“Crazy fucker,” Boone grumbles, standing with a head shake before grabbing my jacket off the knob and tossing it to me.
“Takes one to know one.” I lift the side of my mouth, fluffing out the jacket to put back on, then threading my fingers through my hair.
He only nods his head in a ‘touché’ motion.
Once we are out of the room, we head back to the party. I’ve wasted my time enough on that fool, but I will admit the high from it was mild. Not giving me the fraction of what it will be like for Victor.
Stepping on the last step, I’m swallowed in as the guest range growing larger. Bedford's going to be in for a treat, or his computer may malfunction from all the records he has to keep up with.
Although eager visitors swarm the room, one person captivates my mind; my eyes scan the room to find her.
Not at the bar.
I stride into the banquet hall, only to be greeted by a vision I despise. My chest chokes me like the man I killed. I’m fucking angry all over again. His presence alone provokes past reminders, dangerous memories that never go away. The jealousy I wish I didn't feel pricks every cell and bone in my being. I clench my fist as fury drowns me like a large wave. Control yourself.
Boone steps beside me, still visible, even though that fucker ordered him out of the party. Victor probably doesn't even remember.
“Looks like someone caught his attention,” he murmurs.
My entire face turns hot like molten lava as I watch the man I hate, the imbecile that engraved these markings on my chest, the one who killed Carter, with his arm wrapped around Anita’s waist like he scored the most prized possession.
He did.