As a huge motherfucker, there is no doubt he’s the muscle for Stevie. I don’t believe in God, ghosts, or anything I can’t see, but I see this asshole. When you’re locked up, you immediately got a sense of who you liked, and who you didn’t, and there is something about this fucker that I do not like.
I can’t go out there because I have the element of surprise on my side, but I need to see his face. I’ve only felt this way one other time, so I need to be sure I’m just tripping balls, and he isn’t one of them.
“Kong,” Tawny says with a smirk as she enters the bar.
The muscle has a name, but he still doesn’t have a face. He turns in her direction, but I can’t see jack shit, thanks to the angle. When he speaks, however, I don’t need a face because that voice…is burned onto my soul.
“Hey, sweetness. Lookin’ good.”
Tawny says something in response, but I don’t hear anything. It’s like my brain is shut off to any other stimuli because all it can process is that standing a few feet away is the man who’s haunted me for the past fourteen years.
The man who held me back and forced me to watch as my brother was beat to a pulp is here, and he has a name…Kong. He was the muscle who restrained me when I was kid, and he’s muscle now. But the difference is, I’m no longer a kid, and I have muscles of my own.
The urge to kill him where he stands is almost unbearable, but I breathe deeply through my nose to calm myself. To ensure I don’t end up back inside, I have to watch and learn. I have to be smart.
Bunching my fists by my side, I watch as Tawny flirts with this motherfucker, and he reciprocates. When she walks past him and squeezes his bicep, I am struck with an idea that will not fail. I never believed in fate or destiny, but maybe Tawny can change that.
I will do what I must to get what I want. If Tawny knows who Kong is, then I have to use her in any way that I can. Jaws and Kong both have a thing for strip clubs, it seems. I wonder if they both have a thing for Tawny?
Lotus wraps the meeting up, not wanting Tawny to know why Stevie and Kong are here. “You staying for the show?” Tawny asks Kong, which confirms she knows him because he’s a customer.
“Not tonight, sweetness. Another time, though.” He bends forward to whisper something into her ear, and when he does…I finally see it.
Him.
“Sorry, no can do. It’s time you became a man.”
His words have played on a loop in my mind for fourteen years. How can a single sentence have the power to ruin one’s life? But it has, and now it’s time to return the favor.
It takes every ounce of my strength to keep from going out there and stabbing Kong in the jugular. But all in due time. He’s already dead. While me…I’ve never felt more alive.
Letting Kong leave was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. I wanted nothing more than to end him where he stood. But my vengeance will come, and when it does, it will be painful and slow. For that to happen, however, I need Tawny.
She seems awfully friendly with him, which means she can fill in the blanks. I need to know any and all information she has on him. From the sounds of it, Lotus has agreed to work with Stevie, which means I will be seeing Kong very soon.
But I need the upper hand before that happens. So when I hear Tawny’s heels clicking down the corridor, I put my plan into action. Grabbing the bottle of beer I stole from some creeper asshole in the club, I deliberately spill it all over the front of my T-shirt. When Tawny approaches, I quickly roll the bottle under the lockers and slip the tee off over my head, so when she enters the dressing room, I’m shirtless.
I have my back turned to her as I busy myself looking for a towel on the shelf. The moment her heels stop clacking, I inhale in victory.
“Oh, hi,” she says in a low voice.
Turning over my shoulder, I nod curtly, not wanting her to sense something is amiss. “Hey. Sorry, I’ll be gone in a second. Some asshole spilled beer all over me. I was looking for a towel.”
Grabbing a towel, I begin wiping down my chest. My T-shirt is tossed over the back of a chair. Tawny saunters into the dressing room, eyes watching my every move. Before I was locked up, I was told by many that I was good-looking. I took their word for it.
From the way Tiger ate me up last night, which fucking threw me, and now Tawny, it looks like I haven’t lost my appeal. But none of that matters to me. It’s just a means to an end. I will use whatever I can to get what I want. And nothing will stand in my way.
Once I’m “clean,” I meet Tawny’s heated stare. “How’s it going out there?”
Making small talk isn’t my thing, but I can’t go in guns blazing, even though I would very much like to—literally.
Tawny must have just come from a private dance because she’s in a dress, which means she’s going on a break soon.
“It’s going all right. The crowd is slow tonight, meaning the tips are too,” she replies, fingering over my T-shirt. “Your shirt is soaked.”
“I know,” I respond, running a hand through my hair.
“You could always wear no shirt,” she suggests with a slanted grin as she admires my biceps. “I wouldn’t mind.”
Hook, line, and sinker.
“The dude you were talking to earlier today might not agree.”
Tawny should never play poker because she has zero ability to mask her emotions. “Who? Kong?” she asks with a playful scoff. She’s pretending to play dumb, but she is thrilled I noticed.
Shrugging casually, I fold my arms across my chest. “Is that his name?”
“Yes, Kong, although his real name is Ethan Da Silva. But don’t tell him I told you that. He has an image to uphold.”
And the bastard has a name.
“How do you know him?”
Tawny wets her lips. “He’s been coming in here for a while now. He tips real well. Most married men do,” she adds with a wink. “They think if they tip big, it’ll somehow excuse the fact their cock is hard for someone other than their wife.”
“How do you know all this stuff about him?”
She strides toward me while I stand rigid. “I know a lot of stuff,” she replies flirtatiously, running a fingernail over my bicep.
This is getting off track. I need to redirect her. “I bet you don’t know where he works. Where he trains. Who he runs with,” I add for good measure.
This is a test, and Tawny has passed with flying colors. “I bet you I do. Why are you so interested in him anyway?”
Deflecting her comment, I grip her wrist, but instead of pushing her away, I drag her toward me. Her pupils dilate as her cheeks flush. “I wanted to know if he’s competition or not. That’s all.”
A gasp escapes her. “Oh, really? I didn’t think you were interested in playing the game.”
Oh, I am so interested in playing. Just not the way she thinks.
“What gave you that impression?” I ask coolly.
“I thought you were interested in Lily,” she explains. The moment Tawny says Tiger’s name, it’s like I’m doused with a bucket of ice-cold water.
What I’m doing or, more accurately, what I’m prepared to do, suddenly feels like a dick move. It doesn’t take a genius to see Tawny’s interest in me. If she propositions me and, in exchange, she gives me everything she has on Kong, I will gladly fuck her into next week.