My father says I was born a fighter. He would say if a man can’t use his hands, then what is he good for? The only difference is that my father pays to use someone else’s hands.
A tree branch snaps behind us, and we all turn around to look. Four flashlights dance in the darkness. “Did you guys hear something?” Deke asks.
“I thought I did. But I don’t see anything,” Shane answers him.
“I’ll go check it out,” I say, walking away from them. “And hurry it up.” I grab my flashlight off the ground and shine it ahead of me, listening to them laughing behind me as they finish off the sick bastard who deserved every little thing he got tonight.
My tennis shoes squelch along the muddy ground, and I come to a stop to just listen. I shut my light off and stick it in my back pocket. I know this land like the back of my hand. And no one is ever out here. No one who is up to any good.
The Lowes estate is down at the bottom of the hill, but they’re never home. And if for some reason they are, they’re already in bed.
My hands hang by my sides, the blood slowly dripping off them and falling onto the leaves. My body craves more.
Slowly taking one step after another, I tune out the guys behind me as their voices grow quieter the farther away from them I get.
A sound to my right has me smiling. Whoever it is, is close. Very close. I stand and wait, not making a move. They’re in the dark just like I am because I don’t see any light. Then I hear it again. It could be an animal, but it doesn’t sound like one. I hear two distinct sounds—a pair of shoes.
I take a step to the right, and I hear an intake of breath. So close.
Then they take off. Their shoes pound the ground, and I run after them. I run into a small frame, wrap my arms around it, and tackle it to the ground. It makes a noise of annoyance and two hands slap at my face unable to make contact. I grab the wrists and shove them down to their sides and then straddle them to pin them down underneath me.
I yank my flashlight out of my back pocket and turn it on, shining it down onto the intruder.
Dark green eyes look up at me, framed by long dark lashes. Soft pink lips are parted, and she has a small diamond stud piercing in her button nose. Dark brown hair covers half her face, and she growls, “Get off me.”
She blinks several times, the light blinding her, but I don’t move it. It keeps her from seeing me.
“Get off me,” she demands this time, panting.
I tilt my head to the side, just watching her squirm under me. I’ve never seen her before, and I know every woman in this town. I know every woman within thirty miles. But not her. Not this face. She starts fighting harder, but I hold her easily. She wears a black hoodie, and it’s up, covering the top of her head and side of her face. I reach down and yank it back, causing her to twist her neck.
“Don’t touch me!” Her voice snaps.
“Cole?” I hear Deke call out.
“Over here,” I answer, not taking my eyes from her.
“You sorry son of a …”
“What did you find?” he asks as he comes up next to me. He shines his light on her, and she turns her face from him, closing her eyes. Six earrings run up her ear in various colors. “Oh, a toy. Where did she come from?”
“Not sure.”
“Are there more?” he asks.
“Fuck you,” she spits out while her body nervously shakes under my weight.
How much did she see? Does she know I almost beat a guy to death? She should be afraid of me. My demons like the rage. Feed off it. And I’ve never been one to starve.
Deke laughs. “I like when they have a dirty mouth.”
She arches her back and delicate neck, letting out a scream of frustration that rings out in the dark night.
“No one can hear you out here,” I tell her, my free hand coming up and wrapping around her throat but not choking her. The blood on my hand covers her sun-kissed skin as if I’m painting a picture on her body. She swallows hard against it. “There’s no one to come save you.”
She whimpers.
“I love it when they scream. Go ahead, sweetheart,” Deke says softly. “Scream for me,” he says, kneeling next to us. He wraps her long dark hair around his bloody fist, and he jerks her head to the side to face him.
She bares her perfect teeth, sucking in a breath, but she doesn’t cry out from his force. Both of our lights stay on her face, and she squints, trying to see.
In the distance, I hear an engine roar as Shane, Kellan, and Bennett leave. “What were you doing out here all alone?” he asks her.
“Watching you murder someone,” she snaps.
He throws his head back, laughing at her honesty. “Like to watch, do you?” he asks.
Her hips buck under me, but I keep her down. I’m well over twice her size, so she isn’t going anywhere. She can wear herself out all she wants.
“What a coincidence. So do I,” he tells her with a dark laugh.
She stiffens, and he looks at me. “Go ahead, Cole. Give me a show. I earned it. We gave her one, after all.”
“Don’t,” she whispers as her lips part, and she sucks in a ragged breath.
I smile down at her even if she can’t see me. My hand loosens around her slender neck, and I run my fingers down her skin and along her collarbone, pulling down her oversized hoodie in the process. The blood trail I leave behind makes my cock harden inside my jeans. I can feel her pulse race, and I like it. The fear in her green eyes. The sound of her ragged breathing and shaking of her body.
“You know how much I love to perform,” I tell him.
“Please.” Her body trembles with the plea while my fingers run over her shoulder, pushing her black bra strap off and watching it disappear into the sleeve of her hoodie.
Deke slaps me on the back. “She’s begging you already, Cole. Fuck! That’s some kind of record, right?” He whistles.
The wind picks up and tosses her hair around her face, causing it to stick to the blood along her neck and chest. “Red is your color,” I tell her.
“Orange is gonna be yours,” she growls, lifting her chin.
I smile at her words.
Deke just laughs it off. “She may have recorded it,” he says, getting serious.
I sigh as if that thought is disappointing. “That would be very stupid of you.”
I drop my flashlight beside her head. Letting go of her, I sit up, and just like I knew she would, she yanks her arms out from underneath me and lifts them to my chest, trying to shove me off her. I don’t budge. Then she runs her nails down my skin. I feel it break at her force, and I refrain from moaning at the pain.
I wrap my hands around her wrists and push them above her head, holding them against the wet ground. Then I scoot my body up to her chest and sit down on her. “Check her pockets,” I order Deke.
She screams out as she tries to fight me. Her hips buck, and she kicks her legs out, but Deke pulls a cell out of her back pocket. “It’s locked.”
“What’s the passcode?” I demand.
She clamps her mouth shut, and her eyes narrow. I like the fight in her. Most women would already be sobbing. I lean down and give her a threatening smile even though she still can’t see me. Lowering my voice, I say, “Either you give me the passcode, or I take it from you. What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” A part of me wants her to make me take it. I love it when someone forces my hand—making the decision for me.