Chapter 85
From a darkened corner, I cast my sights around the room. Slowly observing every face while on the hunt for my intended target.
Sam isn’t here yet, but Rose’s family sits at a table not too far off from the bar, sticking out like an erection in a circle jerk of flaccid cocks.
As Brad said before, Patrick’s asleep in his chair, head back, mouth hanging open, a half-consumed martini on the table.
His billowy, bright-coloured shirt draws attention in a room full of neutrals.
Michelle, the step-monster, glitters like a disco ball in the warm light, literally outshining her husband in a silver sequins minidress.
Her eyes are glued to a younger man across the room, an air of infidelity swirling around her.
That, I can use to my advantage.
Tyler and Liam rise from their seats, making their way to the restroom. Their bright red, matching Drunk 1 and Drunk 2 tank tops are easy to spot as they cross the room.
I should really clean myself up if I’m going to meet my flower’s family again. I wait a beat, then follow the duo.
Stepping into the bathroom a few steps behind them has me pausing.
There are three stalls.
However, only one door showcases the red ‘Occupied’ label.
Then I hear it.
The sloppy slurping noise. It echoes around the barren bathroom, snaking into my ears as a moan sounds from the largest stall.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I fight every driving urge in me screaming to turn around and leave. Instead, I kick the door open.
The flimsy lock gives away without much of a fight, the broken pieces clattering to the ground as the metal door bangs open, slamming into the wall.
Liam’s seated on the toilet, shorts around his ankles, and Tyler’s on his knees before him, cock shoved so far down his throat his face is turning blue.
From all that Rose divulged, I would have expected Tyler to be the one getting serviced.
Not that it actually fucking matters.
Liam shoves a gasping Tyler off his cock. “What the fuck?” he shouts, standing to right his pants.
Well, that won’t do. He’s going to attract attention.
“I just wanted to join in on the fun, guys. You interested in a third?”
Liam looks to Tyler, clearly interested in my offer, but his friend’s returning scowl is answer enough.
“Fuck, no,” Tyler forcefully rejects.
I step into the small space, closing the stall door against the bumper. “Shame, I’ve heard you guys are a real pair of assholes.”
My flower’s enemies observe each other warily, unsure of whether to clock me as friend or foe just yet.
Which is wild since I just busted through the door like a battering ram.
“We aren’t interested, man. Maybe next time.”
“Nah, there won’t be a next time.”
Both sets of eyes on me widen in shocked fear. I lunge, driving my fist into Liam’s jaw, sending him flying back into the tile wall with near-comical force. His skull cracks the white ceramic, and he drops to an unconscious heap on the moist, mildewy floor.
Tyler, I advance on slowly. He backs away, sounds stuttering from between his lips, but he’s lost the ability to form anything that sounds like a plea for his life. Rage floods my system at the memory of him in his living room, disrespecting my woman.
“I’m going to fucking enjoy this,” I whisper, grabbing him by the shirt collar.
Like a coward, Tyler pisses himself as I drag him back to his previous position. This time it isn’t a cock in his mouth, it's toilet water. Cutting off his air and filling his lungs as I shove his head into the shit-stained bowl.
He flops and flails, sucking down that piss-tainted liquid, hitting the lever to flush the toilet in the process.
“That’s not going to help you,” I snarl. Pulling him back by the shoulder before smashing his head into the toilet tank.
Once.
Twice.
Third time’s a charm as a sickening crack splits the sound of my revenge, the toilet tank and Tyler’s skull shattering simultaneously.
Blood runs from his nose, bubbling between his broken teeth when I pull him back in order to lift the toilet seat. I drop his dead weight on the rim, flipping the seat back down.
What I’d like to do is drag this out, make him suffer further for all he and his accomplice put Rose through. But I’m running out of time, and Liam’s starting to stir.
Tyler’s neck pops a sickening sound when I drive my steel-toe boot down upon it, the vertebrae separating and rendering him a useless sack of flesh. A final breath hisses out of him, rippling the water in the toilet bowl as Liam scrambles below the wall of the stall to the next one over.
Unfortunately for him, I’m fast as fuck all charged up like this, seeking retribution for a woman whose mere thought can stiffen my cock to aching.
He slams into my chest when I smother the small stall’s threshold, and I grab him.
“Please, don’t,” he mumbles, still somewhat dazed as I turn him in my hold quickly. With one hand under his jaw, and the other on his shoulder, I whisper, “It’ll be quick.”
Then I snap his fucking neck.
He drops into my waiting hands. Though he’s heavy, it’s as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders at Tyler and Liam’s expiration.
Dragging his limp body back to the previous stall, I drop him next to Tyler, then turn to the mirror to clean myself up for my encounter with step-mommy dearest.
I’m only slightly dishevelled, but no matter what I do, I still look too rough around the edges for this fancy cruise. My face is red, and the skin of my cheek and under eye is starting to swell. There’s a small split in my lip, though the wound has already clotted and stopped bleeding.
Wetting my hands in the sink, I push them through my dark hair, slicking it back. It shows off the defined contours of my face. Rose’s flattering words tumble through my ears as the memory of her finger travelling the underside of my jaw pummels through me. A full-body tremble wrecks me.
She fucking wrecks me.
Lingering like a thick tar I can’t escape, the fear confines me, caging the breath in my chest. I push it away, but it sweeps in heavier with each step that gets me closer to finding her.
If I didn’t think it absolutely imperative that I wipe out every threat against her wellbeing, I’d already have Rose thrown over my shoulder.
Willing or not.
I don’t give a fuck at this point.
I’ll make her believe what I experienced was real.
I’ll make her love me.
I didn’t abstain from love for the entirety of my life only to utter it to someone who doesn’t fucking exist.
Brad was here. Her family’s on board. She must be too.
I’ll find her soon enough.
But first, I have a job to finish.
Rolling my shoulders, I shake out the tension, the anticipation. It makes me erratic, sloppy. I need my head on straight before I lure the biggest thorn in Rose’s side away from the crowded room.
When I step out, the lights have dimmed slightly, and the workers are moving tables. Across the room, in a darkened corner, stands Michelle, intricately entwined with someone who isn’t her husband.
Moving like a spectre through the room, I weave between workers on my way to Patrick.
I lay my palm on his shoulder, leaning over as he rouses slightly. “I hate to bother you, sir, but may I confirm your room number? You’re the winner of the boarding day contest, and we need to deliver your prize.”
In his half-awake state, he doesn’t question me. “437,” he responds, clearing his throat.
“Thank you, Mr. Melborne.”
“Mhmm,” he murmurs, drifting back into sleep. The sediment lingering in the bottom of his glass proves my theory on my brother true. He did drug Patrick to make extracting his daughters that much easier.
Rose’s father doesn’t stir when I thrust my push dagger into the base of his skull, twisting to sever his cervical spine.
Hopefully, it will be a while before anyone notices him.
Looking back to the darkened corner, Michelle has vanished.
Fuck.
My eyes fly across the room, searching for any glint of her silver sequins dress, or the back of the red-shirted figure whose tongue she was sucking on.
The main door of the dining room is slowly closing, but as the DJ checks his strobe light one more time, a sparkling of something catches my eye, just as it slips through the crack and the heavy wooden door seals shut.