She was obviously paying more consideration than I gave her credit, for as she knew we were following her. Not only that, but she knows who we are, who we work for, but she’s clearly just as in the dark as we are about Kirk’s plans here.
Staring at her, glaring at us with her hands on her hips, thinking she was formidable, I had to fight my smirk. I don’t know why she thought it would be a good idea to corner two Beasts in an isolated location. Silly girl.
Most people would be scared to be caught alone with Ty and I. Hell, I’ve seen grown men piss themselves when left in a room with us, but this hot little package of contradictions just continued to stare me down as I closed in on her, and, fuck, if her defiance and strength didn’t turn me on, then the dilatation of her pupils and the lust in her eyes, as my hand circled her pretty little throat, nearly had me busting a nut in my jeans like a twelve-year-old.
It’s more than just how hard she gets my dick though. I find myself thinking about her at odd moments during the day, wondering what she’s up to or how she is coping in that big empty house with her father. It makes no fucking sense since I don’t even know this girl. I’ve literally only met her twice, and I don’t get attached to girls. Ever.
The only women I’ve known, including my own mother, are club whores, good for only one thing and definitely nothing worth losing your head over.
No. I have no idea what the hell is happening to me, but it needs to fucking stop. I cannot let this girl compromise this job for us. I probably just need to sink my dick in some chick. I’ll talk to Ty tonight about heading to a bar a few towns over and letting loose.
◆◆◆
Several hours later, we’re sitting in a shitty bar, with music too loud and girls, wearing practically nothing, hanging off us. Perfect. This is exactly what we needed to let off a little steam and forget about a certain defiant brunette. I’ve had a good few drinks and can feel a bit of a buzz going on.
I pull some girl with huge tits into my lap. Her hair is a pale blond, almost white. The opposite of Sophie’s dark locks. She smells strongly of cheap perfume like she frickin’ bathed in it before she came out. It’s overwhelming, making me want to cough. Sophie didn’t smell anything like that. There was no perfume on her at all, just the sweet smell of coconut and lavender from her shampoo.
Fuck. Why am I even thinking about her? I’ve got a half-naked, perfectly willing chick in my lap. Fuck Sophie.
The girl in my lap is grinding shamelessly against my dick, which fucking frustratingly isn’t the slightest bit interested, when my phone starts ringing. Checking the caller ID, I see my father’s name. Great, whatever he wants can’t be good.
“Yeah”, I say unenthusiastically, answering the phone before it can go to voicemail and piss my father off even more.
“Boy,” my father, Trey Cullen, second in command and all-around general shithead, responds derisively, “Clean-up is needed out at the barn.”
“Alright. We’ll get it sorted.”
“Now.” He commands, hanging up before I can say anything else, not that I had anything more to say to that fucking asshole.
If it wasn’t for the fact we are both Beasts, I wouldn’t have anything to do with the waste of space cretin that is my father.
He’s a lifelong criminal, spending his youth in and out of juvie and prison for petty crimes before becoming involved with more hardcore criminals, which resulted in arrests for assault and coercion. It was during one of these stints in prison that he was recruited by Kirk.
My father found his home in The Feral Beasts. From what I have heard, he wasn’t someone you wanted to cross paths with before he joined the club, but now, his hatred and violence knows no bounds. He lives for the bloodshed and torture that being a Beast requires. He doesn’t tolerate weakness or soft emotions, not even in his own kid. Trust me.
When I was three I found a small bird with a damaged wing in our backyard. I took it to my father, hoping he could help me make it better. Instead, he crushed the bird in his huge hand and told me not to waste my time trying to help those weaker than myself. He said I should be focused on becoming who the Beasts need me to be. He locked me in the basement for three days without food or water as punishment for being such a wimp.
By the time I was seven, my father had taught me how to hold a knife and shoot a gun. He made me kill all sorts of stray animals, and was starting to bring me along on his jobs for The Feral Beasts, showing me how to inflict maximum pain before the sweet release of death. He would go as far as to force that pain on me, if I dared to hesitate in imposing it on someone else.
Thankfully, Ty turned up when I was eight. I don’t know what sort of person I would have turned into if he hadn’t been around. Even at that age, I knew I had lost a significant part of my soul, a part that made me human, like everyone else.
Although we have both continued to live a life of bloodshed, torture, and violence, we have somehow managed to pull each other through it all and prevent either of us from losing any more pieces of ourselves. This is no easy feat when you live the life of a Beast.
This job might be cleaner than our usual jobs, but while Kirk is playing make-believe billionaire, the rest of us have to pick up the slack, maintaining our normal deals, trades, and jobs. Our club has its fingers in a lot of pies - legal and otherwise - and we can’t afford to piss off any of our associates by letting things slip through the cracks.
When Kirk first told us that we were coming up here, we had to put a lot of time and effort into finding accommodation for everyone, and somewhere suitable to conduct our less than legal activities. We found a run-down motel thirty minutes from Crescentwood, where those Kirk chose to bring with him, plus anyone that needed to travel back and forth between here and our home compound could crash and chill, when they weren’t on the job.
We also found a disused barn that had long since been abandoned, in the middle of nowhere, an hour away. It required a lot of work, installing soundproofing into the floors and roof, along with a top of the line security system to ensure no unexpected visitors stumbled across the place by accident.
Thank Christ for the month we had to prepare before Kirk became Robert and the whole charade began.
With a sigh and a head nod to Ty, indicating we had to go, I push the girl off my lap and head towards the exit.
“What’s up?” Ty asks as we step outside and head towards the beat-up heap of junk we procured on our initial journey up to Crescentwood. We can’t have anything happening here trace back to the rest of the club back in Oregon. Unfortunately, we were expressly told we couldn’t steal anything flashy and fun, although looking at all the over-priced sports cars in this town, I think we would have blended in much easier if we had nicked an Aston Martin or a Bugatti, rather than the shitty Ford we ended up with.
“Clean up.” I state simply, climbing in behind the wheel, as Ty circles round to get in the passenger seat. Starting the engine, I head towards the barn, where most of our dirty work is done. Time to put our game faces on and get down to business.
Fifty minutes later, when we finally pull up at the barn and climb out of the car, I take a deep breath of the fresh Californian air before stepping into the warehouse, knowing the stench of death and decay await.
Closing the large steel door behind us, Ty flicks on the light as I stride across the room, not at all bothered by the dead man hanging off the ground, shackled between two posts. His arms and legs are spread wide, steel cuffs clamped around his wrists and ankles and attached to long steel chains which are tied around the posts on either side of him. The deliberate nature of his positioning ensures all of his body weight is pushed onto his shoulders, causing an excruciating amount of pressure. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has dislocated both shoulders.