froggy? Jump on my lily pad, dickwad.”
He blinks. Dumb fucker . “I bet you're not so tough without your string, pussy.”
My hands are considered lethal weapons. I could go to jail if I give somebody a beat down. Same thing with guns.
Or knives.
I don't say that shit. Believing it is more important. Knowledge is confidence. And that's enough.
There is no acting when you're a killer. There's only doing.
Wring gives me a perceptive glance. Not quite a wink, the gesture says to let the fucker run his yap.
Why not? He's already had a taste of my knot—there's more where that came from if he's feeling like going.
I always feel like going.
Old Broken Nose gets a sense of the potential and doesn't exactly back down, but he stays just out of reach, sneering aggressively. His attitude bores me.
Diablo walks slowly to where we're squared off. He points at me. “Consider yourself marked, fucker.”
I uncross my feet, straightening.
“Noose.” Wring doesn't have to warn me. I feel myself sliding into that silent space in my brain where I go when I need to kill.
I plant my feet wide, keeping my arms loose and ready. “Rose is mine. She's my property. What's hers is mine.” I state it, capturing Charlie in the net of ownership without blinking an eyelash. There's no room for negotiation or opinions. I'm staking my claim. To Rose. To her nephew. They're under my protection.
Murmurs break out like a symphony of static.
“The fuck?” Diablo jerks his chin back, shaking his head. “That cunt was always mine. She just didn't know it. She's even sweeter than her sister.” He shoves his finger into his mouth, giving it a suck to the knuckle. He slides it back and forth.
“He's trying to juice ya, Noose. Fuck him.” Snare glares at Diablo.
Drake's plan to irritate me is working. The problem? He's not bluffing. His finger has been in Rose's pussy—without her permission, while she was tied down and helpless to stop him.
I owe him death just for that.
I stride toward him, and he meets me halfway. Loud arguing voices around us melt away until it's just the man in front of me. His mud-colored eyes gaze into mine with flat malice.
“I didn't have to rape Rose to fuck her.” Nuts and bolts, fucker. Choke on that.
Diablo's eyes widen. I watch him struggle to control his temper. I won't brag about Rose like a conquest. She isn't something to be won.
Rose is the woman I love. And this fucker will not threaten her again. With harm. With rape. With the slow disembowelment of her family.
He's been put on notice. If he goes after Rose now, he's coming after another man's property—a man who's already had her and knows forever wouldn't be long enough.
Diablo gets over the top of his rage like a marathon runner conquering his last hill. His eyes move behind my shoulder.
I know he's sighting in on Rose. I watch his will build in front of me piece by piece.
Not touching Diablo while he stares his intent at Rose is one of the hardest things I've ever done.
Not killing him on the spot takes the lead.
*
Without another word, Diablo turns on his heel and leaves. Chaos follows at his back.
Thrumming unspent energy has its fucking way with me. My need to eviscerate that fucker is so strong, my vision actually narrows at the edges. Dead gray light swims at its periphery.
“Noose.” Snare's voice is at my elbow.
I turn like I'm in slo-mo. “Yeah.”
“Let's get the fuck outta here. Regroup.”
I nod.
But first, I move over to where Rose and her mom are. Their eyes are big.
Her mom's stare condemns me.
“Who is this man, Rose?” Her nose wrinkles.
No “hi, how ya doinʼ”? It's automatic dislike. On the surface, I probably look a helluva lot like Diablo to her.
Not how I wanted the first intros made. “I'm Noose,” I say, holding out my hand.
Her eyes wide, Rose's mom looks at my hand like I just offered her a snake.
“Mom, this is Sean King.”
Rose's mom stares.
I drop my hand to my side,
He blinks. Dumb fucker . “I bet you're not so tough without your string, pussy.”
My hands are considered lethal weapons. I could go to jail if I give somebody a beat down. Same thing with guns.
Or knives.
I don't say that shit. Believing it is more important. Knowledge is confidence. And that's enough.
There is no acting when you're a killer. There's only doing.
Wring gives me a perceptive glance. Not quite a wink, the gesture says to let the fucker run his yap.
Why not? He's already had a taste of my knot—there's more where that came from if he's feeling like going.
I always feel like going.
Old Broken Nose gets a sense of the potential and doesn't exactly back down, but he stays just out of reach, sneering aggressively. His attitude bores me.
Diablo walks slowly to where we're squared off. He points at me. “Consider yourself marked, fucker.”
I uncross my feet, straightening.
“Noose.” Wring doesn't have to warn me. I feel myself sliding into that silent space in my brain where I go when I need to kill.
I plant my feet wide, keeping my arms loose and ready. “Rose is mine. She's my property. What's hers is mine.” I state it, capturing Charlie in the net of ownership without blinking an eyelash. There's no room for negotiation or opinions. I'm staking my claim. To Rose. To her nephew. They're under my protection.
Murmurs break out like a symphony of static.
“The fuck?” Diablo jerks his chin back, shaking his head. “That cunt was always mine. She just didn't know it. She's even sweeter than her sister.” He shoves his finger into his mouth, giving it a suck to the knuckle. He slides it back and forth.
“He's trying to juice ya, Noose. Fuck him.” Snare glares at Diablo.
Drake's plan to irritate me is working. The problem? He's not bluffing. His finger has been in Rose's pussy—without her permission, while she was tied down and helpless to stop him.
I owe him death just for that.
I stride toward him, and he meets me halfway. Loud arguing voices around us melt away until it's just the man in front of me. His mud-colored eyes gaze into mine with flat malice.
“I didn't have to rape Rose to fuck her.” Nuts and bolts, fucker. Choke on that.
Diablo's eyes widen. I watch him struggle to control his temper. I won't brag about Rose like a conquest. She isn't something to be won.
Rose is the woman I love. And this fucker will not threaten her again. With harm. With rape. With the slow disembowelment of her family.
He's been put on notice. If he goes after Rose now, he's coming after another man's property—a man who's already had her and knows forever wouldn't be long enough.
Diablo gets over the top of his rage like a marathon runner conquering his last hill. His eyes move behind my shoulder.
I know he's sighting in on Rose. I watch his will build in front of me piece by piece.
Not touching Diablo while he stares his intent at Rose is one of the hardest things I've ever done.
Not killing him on the spot takes the lead.
*
Without another word, Diablo turns on his heel and leaves. Chaos follows at his back.
Thrumming unspent energy has its fucking way with me. My need to eviscerate that fucker is so strong, my vision actually narrows at the edges. Dead gray light swims at its periphery.
“Noose.” Snare's voice is at my elbow.
I turn like I'm in slo-mo. “Yeah.”
“Let's get the fuck outta here. Regroup.”
I nod.
But first, I move over to where Rose and her mom are. Their eyes are big.
Her mom's stare condemns me.
“Who is this man, Rose?” Her nose wrinkles.
No “hi, how ya doinʼ”? It's automatic dislike. On the surface, I probably look a helluva lot like Diablo to her.
Not how I wanted the first intros made. “I'm Noose,” I say, holding out my hand.
Her eyes wide, Rose's mom looks at my hand like I just offered her a snake.
“Mom, this is Sean King.”
Rose's mom stares.
I drop my hand to my side,
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