Page 73 of Trick

“I’ve never professed to be a fucking saint,” I fire back, trying to keep his attention on me. “You killed my pregnant wife. Did you really think I was going to sit by and let that slide without any form of retribution?”

He waves a hand in the air. “Collateral damage. It happens in war. She was never the target.”

There is a roaring in my ears as he says those words, and I want to pound his teeth down his fucking throat. “Collateral damage? My daughter is without her mother and that’s collateral fucking damage?”

“What about all the men you’ve killed? They had families too. There were people waiting for them to come home, and instead, they had to bury what you left of them. So, don’t talk to me about losing people. You’re not the only one who has lost everything. Your fucking club stole my child from me.”

Is this guy for real? “Your men tried to cut your daughter’s stomach open and kill her baby. Why would you even think she would want to be around you?”

The ripple of pain that works across his face tells me he’s not as okay with Skye betraying him as he makes out. “I never ordered that to happen. I wanted my daughter to come home.”

Heidi inches closer to the door, her arms wrapped tightly around Sophia as she takes tentative steps away from the danger.

“Come home to what? You have no intention of building bridges with her. All you want is to dole out punishment.”

He points the gun at me again, and I brace for another hit. It doesn’t come, though. “You took everything from me, so now, I’m going to take everything from you. And then I’m gonna kill you and the rest of your club.”

He swings his arm towards Heidi and my daughter. My heart stops in my chest and everything seems to slow to a crawl. Without thinking, I stumble to my feet and plaster my body in front of them, willing to take whatever bullets are meant for them.

Heidi feels so small and vulnerable as I wrap myself around her defensively, my daughter pressed between us.

“Don’t… please.” I don’t want to beg, but I will. For them, I will do whatever it takes.

“Did my men beg when you were flaying the skin off their backs?” Fuck. Memories of the blood I spilled fills my mind. “Did my men beg when you were stabbing holes in them over and over just to watch them bleed out? Did my men?—”

Bobby moves so fast, surging to his feet in a smooth motion that barely registers for Richardson.

That glint of metal in his hand finds its way into the side of that fucker’s neck. Blood spurts as Bobby twists the knife, creating a bigger wound. Richardson’s mouth opens in a silent scream, his eyes wide as blood trails down his chin.

The gun fires—a reflex maybe—and I pull Heidi and my daughter onto the floor beneath me, shielding them with my body.

Bobby doesn’t hesitate. The kid might only be eighteen, but there is no fear in him as he pulls the knife from Richardson’s neck and, in rapid succession, stabs it into his gut over and over. It’s so violent, so aggressive, and completely fatal.

The gurgling sounds of him choking on his own body fluids is a fucking symphony to me, and although I wish I had been the one to stick that knife into him, I still feel the satisfaction of watching the river of red run down his throat as his eyes bug out his head.

I can tell the moment he realises he’s done. There is disbelief and panic in his face before he sags forward onto his knees and crashes onto my kitchen floor.

Blood instantly pools around his body, staining the tiles beneath him and filling the air with its iron scent.

Bobby straightens, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stares down at Richardson’s body. The kid isn’t even patched in, and yet he has put an end to the club’s worst enemy.

When his eyes find mine, all the crazy drains out of them and he lowers his knife to his side, blood dripping off the blade. Crimson is spattered over his face and hands, so when he gives me a broad grin, he looks completely demented. “Fucker talked too much.”

“Thank you, Bobby.” I breathe out the words before giving my attention to Heidi and Sophia.

Carefully, I lift off them both as Bobby retrieves Richardson’s gun, slipping it down the back of his jeans.

Heidi unfurls from around Sophia, checking her for injuries.

“Is she okay?” I ask, my voice trembling as I pull her arms away from her body to search for blood. But other than being upset, my daughter appears to be fine.

“I think so,” Heidi says, her voice trembling. “Is he…” Her eyes slide over to Richardson’s body.

“I don’t care about him. Are you hurt?”

When she doesn’t answer immediately, I cup her face with my hands, leaving bloodied smears on her cheeks. I’m so fucking grateful that blood is mine and not hers.

“I don’t… I don’t think so.” Her hand moves to her stomach, and I don’t miss the frightened look in her eyes.

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