3. Casper #2
My boots feel like they're encased in concrete as I push away from the brick at my back. Heading toward the lot with my bike, I try my hardest to keep my mind on track.
No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get that ruby red lipstick out of my head. Picking at my brain, I think she wore a different shade the first time we met. What color will it be tomorrow?
Reaching my ride, I catch the smile clinging to my lips as I throw my leg over the saddle. Chuckling under my breath and shaking my head, I can't help myself when it comes to throwing a glance over my shoulder.
Maybe I can take advantage of having her number and offer to bring lunch. Finding out what kind of foods she likes is only the start of learning everything I possibly can about her.
With the roar of my bike disturbing the peace, I leave the shop behind as a reflection in my mirrors.
Heading all the way to the docks, I find a familiar bike and van parked in front of one of the rustic buildings. In the distance, I spot Devil hanging out by the water. His attention is out on the crashing waves. No telling what that kid is thinking.
Getting off my bike, there's another low throb to my side. I was so distracted earlier that I barely felt it, but now, any shift of my body feels like my skin is pulling on itself.
Even when I survive such an injury, my pride takes a hit at the reminder that it happened in the first place.
Tugging off my helmet to breathe in the fishy-scented air, I quickly replace it with my glasses. Enjoying the quiet that comes with the docks, I know what waits for me is inside one of these buildings. Heading over to the one closest, I push the rustic door to the side with a grunt.
Inside, I find Tank's body swallowing up one of the metal chairs. He's hunched over, his elbows pressed into his knees as he stares at the other occupant in the spacious room.
"Tank." Smiling at our mute enforcer, I roll my neck to look over at the man strapped down to a chair only a handful of feet away. The curve on my lips drops away, replaced by a scowl. "Davis."
Davis immediately stiffens up at the sound of my voice.
He's got a bag over his head, but there's no denying his identity from the ink on his arms. His shoulders are locked tight, hiked up toward his ears in a permanent flinch, his chest heaving with heavy, shallow breaths that rattle the fabric of the hood. The coarse hemp rope is biting into his skin, leaving raw, weeping chafing where he’s tried to twist his hands free.
Walking over to him, I grab the top of the bag and tear it off his head.
Without the hood, the stale stench of his fear hits me full force.
His face is a mess—one eye is already swollen shut, a deep, angry purple bruise swallowing up his cheekbone where Tank must have introduced himself.
Cold sweat has turned his hair into damp strings plastered to his forehead.
I step into his space, my boots echoing loudly against the concrete, and catch his jaw in my grip. My cool fingers clash with his wounded, heated skin. I plant my thumb directly into the raw, split skin beneath his eye, pressing down until I feel the bone underneath.
Davis’s entire body goes rigid. A choked, pathetic groan rattles against the gag in his mouth, his chest heaving as he tries to pull away from a grip that isn't budging.
"I've been dying to have a chat with you, Dave." Digging harder until blood seeps from the wound reopening, my teeth clench. "We've got some catching up to do."
In an attempt to say something, I release him long enough to reach for my side. His muffled pleas immediately grow silent as I unsheathe one of my blades. The metal catches the light, and I can't help but enjoy the way he flinches back like he has a choice in the matter.
"Hold still," I warn him as I get close once more. "Trust me, getting cut hurts like a bitch."
Hooking his gag with one finger, my blade slices against the fabric in one slick slide. Freeing his mouth, I cradle the blade in one hand as I step away. Heading in the direction of Tank, I grab a folded chair with the other.
“Casper—fuck. Casper, please—” He chokes on the sudden rush of air, hacking a mix of spit and blood onto his chest before he can steady his jaw. “I tried to tell them. I swear to God, I tried to explain to your boys—”
The brutal, screeching wail of metal legs dragging across the concrete floor cuts him off entirely.
Davis flinches, his jaw snapping shut as I pull a folded chair right into his personal space.
I unfold it with a sharp clack, dropping down into it, casually twirling the handle of my blade between my fingers.
"I'm pretty upset with you right now, man. Let me tell you, you made me look super uncool in front of someone special, and I don't appreciate that." Pausing my movement, my smile reappears as Kylee flashes through my mind.
"C-Casper—"
"Shhh." I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, the tip of the knife pointing lazily toward his throat. "I'm the one talking, Dave. You're the one listening. Now, how much did they pay you to fuck me over? The last time I checked, Cash pays everyone pretty well."
His chest heaves with every breath. I can see the frantic lies spinning in his wide, bloodshot eye as his gaze darts past me toward Tank. He’s looking for mercy from a brick wall.
With a soft, disappointed sigh, I casually tilt my head and block his eyeline with the flat of my blade. I pout my lip slightly, staring at him over the rims of my glasses like a bored kid whose favorite toy just broke.
"Hey. Eyes on me, buddy," I chide him softly, my tone dripping with that sweet, teasing lightness.
"Don't ruin my vibe. I'm trying really hard to stay in a good mood today, but if you keep making this difficult, I'm going to have to start taking you apart piece by piece. And honestly? I hate making a mess."
Davis's throat bobs under my threat, and he slowly nods. "They said they'd protect me if I pulled you out. Said they wouldn't hurt you, so there shouldn't be an issue."
"There it is. I love the honesty, but seriously, look where that's got you, man." Clicking my tongue, I sit back. "You broke my trust, and I don't appreciate that. Now, I'm going to need you to tell me everything about those Hounds if you want to fix this broken bridge between us."