Page 11 of Revengeful Punks (Dolls and Douchebags)

“Shame.” Jin grinds out, absolutely not pleased that he didn’t get his way. “Carlos was just telling me that he wants to make a deal, but I haven’t decided if it’s worth it. Why don’t you share, boy?” Jin still hasn’t looked at me and I know it’s intentional to act like he sees me as someone who isn’t important.

Fuck him.

Carlos’ smile gets tight around the edges at the boy comment, but he leans back in his chair in a slouched position to appear like he’s unbothered.

“I found two strays that you could sell in your auction… for a price, of course.” Carlos lazily flicks out a cigarette and lights the tip, blowing the smoke towards me.

“I have plenty of merchandise, why would I be interested, as you say, instrays?Isn’t one of them Nicholas’ pet, Logan?” Jin glances at me with a sly smile, clearly already knowing the answer and trying to rile me up.

“No idea. Though I’m sure Franco would be upset to learn his stepdaughter was being traded like cattle with a lower drug dealer from the hood. Really? What is the world coming to?” I gesture to Carlos with a nonchalant shrug, noticing him sitting up straighter out of the corner of my eye as I disrespect him on his turf.

“You fucking Italians think you’re so much better than anyone else. I’m going to pop a cap in your ass.” Carlos stands up, his chair falling to the ground along with his cigarette, but he doesn’t notice as he leans over the table to get in my face.

“Carlos,” a deep voice snaps from behind me, making my shoulders stiffen at being exposed. “These are your guests, no? How about a fair trade? To show our respect to the triad and the police chief by protecting his precious stepdaughter, we can leave them in your hands.”

I slowly turn around, trying hard not to pull my gun out and shoot this fucking biker in the head and balls. A Demon Jokers patch rests right over his breast pocket, the black leather of his vest worn and used with wrinkles. I stare into his dead, blue eyes and have a cold feeling sweep through my body. His dirty blond hair is unkempt, greasy, and long, hanging down over his wide shoulders. He’s just about as tall as me and his muscles are just as built. Everything else about him screams off, like a body without a soul. You only have to look into someone’s eyes and see their thoughts. Even Nicky, the one person I know who can turn off his emotions like a switch, has a tell that he still feels things. It’s the way his eyes look deep into your own, accessing what kind of human you are.

This fucker in front of me… I get nothing. His stare is so blank, his face so relaxed that I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“What?! I’m not giving—” Carlos starts to yell, slamming his palm on the table, but Jin cuts him off.

“How very generous of you. A businessman, I see. That we have in common. You have my interest, what do you want in return?” Jin asks, intrigued as he gives his full attention to the biker, eyeing him with respect, and Carlos just huffs in annoyance as he sits his ass back down.

Fuck.

“Drugs. Selling, running them on the streets, getting them into the hands of lowlifes and teenagers to feed their future addiction. We want in. Demon Jokers already trade in cocaine. Why not work together, and Carlos’ gang can come in handy, having more of his people on the streets.” This fucker lights a cigarette and holds Jin’s stare with a crooked grin that looks fake as shit.

“I could always use more people to run my product.” Jin ponders before standing up and reaching to shake the biker's hand. “I didn’t get your name?”

“Cruz,” he says as he clasps Jin’s hand in a firm shake before letting go to turn towards me but I stop him from moving.

He doesn’t even blink as I whip out my gun without thinking about the consequences and put it to his temple. Images of him hurting my baby girl, touching her, and raping her with other bikers flips through my mind at rapid speed. He’s the one who broke her, before me and the guys came along to pick up the pieces. Just the thought of his dirty fingernails on her beautiful skin has my hand trembling, making it obvious that my emotions are all over the place as the gun shakes slightly in my grip.

“Do I know you?” Cruz says without even trying to defend himself, turning to look at the barrel now between his eyebrows. I don’t notice anything else around me, it’s only me and this fucker. I’ll kill him.

“No, but you're about to,” I grind out through my teeth, digging my gun harder into his skin.

“Now, now, boy. What would Franco say to this behavior? Put the gun away, Logan,” Jin orders, sounding amused before he turns back towards Cruz to address him. “We are having an auction Thursday at the docks PointCross starting at nine o’clock at night. Why don’t you join us so we can all discuss business and give you a chance to meet Franco?”

My finger tightens on the trigger, seconds away from shooting Cruz in the fucking face.

“Carlos and I would be honored. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Cruz replies, holding my gaze and puffing smoke into my face.

“Logan, put the gun down.” Tillie’s soft voice reaches my ears, bringing me out of the static and ringing that was pounding in my eardrum.

I don’t lower the gun, not breaking my stare with this fucker as he looks over to the right. There it is. Emotion. Cruz’s neck starts to turn red, the vein on his forehead pulsing, but the look in his gaze actually terrifies me. I see someone who looks at something as an object, wanting to keep it locked up and away from everyone except himself.

Obsession.

Greed.

Ownership.

Over my dead fucking body.

“Mine.” My voice comes out menacing and deep, making no mistake about what the fuck I mean.

Tillie is mine, not fucking his.

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