I make my way to the club’s garage. Once inside, I open the trapdoor to the basement. I climb down into it and turn on the light. Standing in front of me chained from the ceiling by his hands and dangling a good two feet from the floor is Pistol. His face is a bloody mess, swollen beyond recognition. His knees have been taped and semi-repaired by Dr. Torres. She’s a fucking hot piece of work. Why couldn’t I have fallen for someone like her? Hot sex, uncomplicated… if only I could feel any of that beyond the pain I feel right now.
The florescent fixture buzzes and then clicks before lighting all the way. Pistol is naked. He’s missing most of his toes now, and his ass has been cut by a mixture of my knife, broken bottles, and other objects. I figured, if he’s going to fuck with me, I might as well show him how to take it like a man. Blood has run and dried down his legs. His ribs are purple, but nowhere near as scary-looking as it was last week. I know a couple are broken, but he’s still breathing, so they must have not punctured a lung.
I stand there watching him, taping my hands up. I think he opens an eye. It’s such a fucking mess, who could be sure?
“Mátame,” Pistol says, the word coming out barely more than a soft whisper. I might not have heard it, except he begs for the same thing every time. It’s monotonous. He should figure out by now that he dies when I’m done, not before. Now that my hands are taped, I circle his body.
“I met mi hija tonight, cabron. The hija you helped steal from me,” I growl, slamming my fist into his rib. “The hija who is two and does not even know who I am,” I tell him, pummeling him again and again. “The hija I never would have known existed if you had gotten your way,” I add.
I pound into him over and over, each time telling him I know what he tried to do. I don’t stop. I go a little too far when blood spews from his mouth and his body heaves with the force it takes for him to gasp. The thought of not having him to take my anger out on again is what makes me stop. I use my hands to stop his body from spinning listlessly. I tear the tape from my hands and go to recline against the wall, watching as the blood trails down his neck to his chest, and right there, just below his collarbone, I see it: a bit of unmarked, unblemished skin. That can’t happen. I use the phone on the wall, hit speaker, and dial the number.
“Yeah?”
“I need you again.”
“When I said I would help you out, I didn’t know I would be keeping a man alive just so you could kill him,” Teena’s voice comes over the phone.
“Are you coming or not?”
“I’ll be there.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I tell her, ending the call.
I light a cigarette, letting the smoke circle around me.
“Dejame morir,” Pistol wheezes, more blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
Let me die. How many times did I pray for that very thing? Ask God for that very same thing? How many times did it go unanswered? Not as many as Pistol’s will. That, I can promise.
“Not tonight, carbon, not tonight.” I take my cigarette and, finding that one untouched spot around his collarbone, I push the lighted end of the cigarette to it and curl my nose at the smell of burning flesh. Pistol barely moves, this pain hardly detectable under the deluge of other pain he endures. That thought brings me a very small sliver of peace—for now.
No. He will not die tonight. He will not die until I can breathe again.
THE End . . . For now
Look for Conquered, The final book
in the trilogy, April 2016
Turn the page for all the pretty extras, including a previously released novella of Sabre, Latch, and Annie—Craved—containing an all new epilogue. Did you ever wonder what Skull’s reaction was after meeting with Colin? And where did the recording Beth talked about come from? Read on! Also included is a sample of some great new book coming out by brand-spanking new author Becca Taylor!
Craved
By: Jordan Marie
Annabelle
Some men defy description.
I deal with books. I know every adjective in the English language and I can’t describe Sabre.
He’s a biker with a filthy mouth and a dirty mind and he sets me on fire.
I’ve lived in the shadows my whole life, afraid to see what is beyond my own little corner of the world.
Sabre makes me step outside my safe zone.
He makes me crave…more.
Sabre
Annie is everything I shouldn’t want.
From that uptight dress to the hair she wears in a damn bun, down to those black rimmed glasses. We don’t fit. A librarian and a biker, and if that’s not cliché enough, she has cats!
I should run.
I’m not going to. One taste and I only want more.