Page 39 of Liam

Vanessa’s father lets go and falls back against the floor. I gasp loudly, trying to catch my breath. Kayla looks at me, her eyes filled with absolute horror, and touches my throat.

“I am okay.”

Liam

Rage. Rage hits me hard at the sight of the fucker with his hands wrapped around her throat and the panic and pain on her face.

Torch wraps his arm around her waist, and I punch the fucker hard in the face. He hits the ground hard, hitting his head, and Shaylin puts her foot on his throat, stopping him from getting back up.

Paisley is holding her throat. After Kayla steps back, I put my hands on her face. “Baby, you hurt?”

She shakes her head. “I am okay.” She falls forward, her head hitting the middle of my chest. I look over my shoulder at the guys. They pick the guy up off the floor and drag him out of the bar.

“Kick his ass for me.” She smiles at me.

“You don’t have to fucking ask.” I wink and I feel someone staring at me. It is her father, looking fucking torn. I can tell he wants to be the one to comfort her right now.

She follows my gaze and sees her father. I drop my arms and she goes straight to him. She was his life for years and years, until Kayla came into his life, and he’s having a hard time letting go.

If I had a daughter, I wouldn’t be so fucking nice. My daughter will never have a boyfriend. She will be my baby forever.

* * *

Tyler shows up a couple of hours later with Vanessa. He settles her down on the couch, and the ladies start fussing over her immediately. Paisley is looking at her, worried, Vanessa looks like she is still in shock. Tyler walks over to me, his fists clenched at his sides.

“She has a mild concussion—but, besides that, just bruising. She is quiet, man, why the fuck would someone hurt her like that? She is the sweetest person I have ever met.” He looks torn into a million fucking pieces.

Tyler is a tough son of a bitch. He has been from the moment I met him all of those years ago. He never had a lot of good in his life until Vanessa gave him a small slice of it.

Then the fucker came along and damaged that.

I understand that, because of Paisley. She is my life, and the thought of someone hurting her kills my fucking soul.

Vanessa’s father wrapped his hands around her throat, and I saw the split second of fear on her face. That shit haunts my dreams. My childhood never keeps me up at night, but the sight of her fear, the look on her face when she was burned, and the weeks it took her to get better—that shit killed me. I wanted to take her pain away and make it my own. My woman should never feel pain like that.

She is my Paisley.

Tyler walks back to the interrogation room, where the rest of the guys wait. “The fucker choked Paisley, I need a piece too.”

Tyler nods immediately. He will get the kill.

We walk into the room. The guy’s arms are above his head, in chains. I have been in this room many times before, and our target is always in the same position.

I was trained in interrogation. I was sent off once I hit eighteen and learned everything I needed to know to get information that could save the club. It is what I did in the SEALs. This is what I fucking do. Today I’m not getting information. I am beating someone’s ass.

The guy looks at us. His face is pale and sweat is pouring down his face. This fucker is a piece of shit, the worst kind of man in the entire world, the kind who hurts a woman, even his own fucking kid.

His face goes snow white at the sight of me walking toward him. I take down his right hand. The same hand that choked Paisley. It is grimy, soiled with all kinds of nasty shit that I don’t want to think about. He tries to wrench his hand away, but I hold on tight.

“You think you can choke my woman and get away with it?” I ask him.

His whole body is shaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” His voice is shaking right along with his body.

I smile. “Yeah, well that shit doesn’t matter anyway.” I grab his fingers and press them back slowly. Farther and farther. His screams pierce the room, and I grin. Then I hear the popping sound of all of his fingers breaking, and his screams grow louder.

I wrap my hands around his wrist and wrench it to the side, breaking it right along with his fingers.

“Watch your shoe, Liam,” Kyle says and I look down. Wetness is pooling at his feet. The fucker pissed himself.

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