“I won’t hesitate to put a bullet through your head right now, so watch your tongue,” Deo snarls.
“I was working on her for months and you were what, going behind my back and giving her false hope?”
Everything makes sense now, why Flora was shaking like a small dog in a tornado, why she was avoiding making eye contact with Deo’s henchmen. He was the one who hurt her. I rip myself away from Judge and King, rush up to Deo’s guy and slam my fist along the side of his temple over and over again until he’s on the floor. I smash my fists against his face repeatedly, furious at what was just openly admitted. Blood splashes against my face and I’m sure I look like a barbarian, but no one stops me. No one makes a sound. Or maybe they are and I’m tuning them out.
My arms get pulled back and I fight whoever has their grip on me, but the moment a fist flies against my jaw, I see Butcher’s tattoos. “Calm the fuck down, brother!” he snaps, but there isn’t anything he can say that’ll calm me down right now.
“I’m sorry, Deo, but given the circumstances you can’t expect me to apologize for what Needles did. Flora is part of our club, and we protect our own.” Gamble’s voice is more relaxed than I expect. Then again, she’s playing the diplomatic role of being Prez right now.
“No apologies are needed. In all honesty, he’s nothing but a pain in my ass and you’re doing me a favor. Mario is yours now.” Deo looks to Gamble and then to me, giving me permission to do whatever I please.
Gamble glances down to the ground and looks at Mario, bleeding on the floor. “Serpent, make sure our friend here stays alive. We want to make sure he feels what’s coming to him when someone messes with one of our own.”
Chapter Fourteen
My strength didn’t come from lifting weights, it came from lifting myself back up every time I was broken down.
~ TheMindJournal
Flora
I’m twenty minutes into watching Borat 2 when the door to the basement comes flying open. I put my arm on the back of the couch and turn back, narrowing my eyes to see who’s coming in. I turned the lights out so I can’t see too well. Turning back to the TV I pause it and rise from the couch, walk over to the wall and turn the lights on. By the time I turn around I see Needles, with blood coating his face. His chest rises and falls, nostrils flare, and he looks deeply into my eyes.
“Whose blood is that?” I question as I take a gulp.
Needles grabs me by the side of my face and brings his forehead to mine, his breath hot and heavy on my lips, I hear something I never thought I ever would. “I’ll make sure he never touches you again. You hear me?”
I blink in confusion, quickly realizing my past is obviously out in the open. Yet still, I need him to tell me what he knows. “How . . . h-how do you know?”
“That stupid fuck came up to me and said some shit about you that I didn’t like, made a remark and I put shit together. Doesn’t take a genius to do that,” Needles shuts his eyes as he speaks. “I lost my shit on him and pulled out my brass knuckles, fucked up his nose and face real good. The guys pulled me back, then that Deo guy explained he knew you in the past, told the club about your uncle, and all that.” Needles opens his eyes again, scanning my own to make sure I’m okay.
The thing is, I’m not. I’m not remotely okay. What happened in Venezuela isn’t exactly what I want anyone to know. I’m not proud of it. I’m not happy it happened, for obvious reasons, and I don’t want to be known as the woman who was tortured, the survivor, or whatever else they want to refer to me as.
I suck in a deep breath and sigh, trying to figure out how to react to this. I’m angry. I’m pissed. I’m disappointed. So many thoughts run through my mind, but more than anything, I’m caught on the fact that the man who claimed he wanted to hate-fuck me is still here. How he has the blood of the man who continuously brought me pain on his skin, and how he’s caressing my skin in the gentlest of ways.
I can’t understand this shit, why Needles is here with me right now, with his forehead pressed against mine like we’re longtime lovers. Sure, we’ve known each other for over a year now, but . . . until now we’ve only ever pushed each other’s buttons.
“Why are you here right now, Needles?” This is the only way I’m ever going to know his reasoning, and I need to know. I need to have some sort of understanding of the situation.
Needles brushes his hand over my hair and pulls his forehead away from mine. He goes over to the couch and sits down, but as he does, he seems reluctant as hell. “I haven’t told anyone in the club about this, at all. I’d appreciate it if you don’t . . . if you don’t repeat it.”
I nod. “Your secret is safe with me.” I’m not even fucking with him. I really mean this. I walk over to the couch and sit a couple feet away from him, looking at his dark brown eyes and notice the way they seem darker under fake light like hazelnut, but in the sun they have a bronze glow.
“When I was enlisted, I fell in love with a woman who was in my unit. When we were in Iraq, some shit went sideways and she ended up getting captured by a terrorist group. She . . . she was tortured for two months and by the time we got to her, they had just slit her throat and fled the area. So, when I put shit together, I lost every sense I had . . . and I’m going to make sure he fuckin’ suffers for what he did to you, Flora. It was all senseless. Hurting you was fuckin’ senseless, and it’s because of what he did that you freaked out earlier, right?”
My chest tightens as I listen to everything he’s said, my heart breaking at the thought of what he endured, at what he lost, so I decide to break down every wall I’ve put up since my time in Venezuela.
“Yes, I’m sorry you had to see that, and I’m sorry for what I said about when you served . . . I had no idea what you went through . . . and I . . . I’m really fucked up by the stuff I went through. It’s turned me into a bitch, a raging, horrible, nasty, bitch.”
Needles shakes his head. “Nah, don’t you go doin’ that shit. Livin’ through stuff like that will change you, Flora. It’ll fuckin’ change you, but in the end it’s worth it. I think it somehow makes us better people. Don’t you?”
I let out a laugh at that. “I think it’s yet to make me a better person.”
Needles chuckles in response with a nod, “You’re not all that bad.”
“You’re only saying that because you know a bit about my past now.” I cock a brow, knowing I’m right.
“Fine, play that card if you want to, but I was bein’ genuine as shit.” I blink in surprise, never anticipating I’d get a compliment from Needles unless it was forced. You know, like when two kids are being nasty to each other and a therapist or parent forces one to say something nice about the other and vice versa.
“Thank you, I appreciate that.”
Needles keeps his eyes on mine and stares at me so long I get a little bit nervous. “Somethin’ about you makes me go crazy, Flora, and I can’t quite put my finger on it . . . but you rile me up.”