Page 47 of The Highwaymen

The post-kill glow stillsang through my veins as Stu drove us away from the strip club, the rumble of the engine vibrating through the seat and into my bones. The night air whipped through the cracked window, cool against my flushed skin. I could still feel the delicious ache of Stu inside me, the sweet burn of the rough brick wall scraping my flesh as he took me, claimed me.

My mind replayed the brutal beauty of Stu's violence on a loop - the savage snarl twisting his rugged features, the hypnotic rise and fall of the blood-slicked hammer, the intoxicating scent of coppery gore. Thememories stirred the embers of lust in my gut, stoking them higher despite my body still thrumming with the echoes of release.

I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable. My skin felt too tight, electric with unspent energy. The need to hurt, to take, to make some unsuspecting bastard bleed, still clawed beneath the surface. Watching Stu work had only whetted my appetite, not sated it.

But there would be time enough for that later. For now, I let myself bask in the afterglow, my head lolling against the seat as I watched the neon-limned cityscape slide by outside the window. The distant wail of a siren made me smirk. Someone must have found the body already.

My smirk faded as I caught Stu glancing at me from the corner of his eye, his brow furrowed. “What's on your mind, pumpkin?”

I sighed, picking at a spot of dried blood on my jeans. “Just restless, I guess. Watching you work got me all revved up with nowhere to go.”

Stu's lips quirked. “Oh, I can think of a few places for you to go.”

I snorted. “Besides on your dick again.” Though the idea certainly had appeal. “I mean the itch. The urge. Letting off steam with you took the edge off, but...”

“It's never enough,” Stu finished, nodding.

He understood. Of course he did. It was the same for him - the gnawing hunger, the thirst for violence. Sating it was only ever a temporary fix before the craving came roaring back.

“Figured we'd lie low for a day or two, let the heat die down a bit before scratching that itch again,” Stu said.

I huffed, slouching lower in my seat petulantly. I knew he was right, but patience had never been my strong suit. Especially not when my skin was buzzing with restless energy, my mind spiraling with dark fantasies of making some unworthy piece of shit choke on his own blood. Of opening someone up and playing in their insides until their screams tapered off into wet gurgles.

The neon signs and seedy storefronts blurred together as we sped through the underbelly of the city. My knee bounced restlessly, fingers tapping an erratic rhythm against my thigh. The confines of the truck cab suddenly felt suffocating, the air thick and cloying. I needed to move, to hunt, to feel the flesh yield beneath my hands.

I was debating the merits of just throwing myself from the moving vehicle and finding my own twisted fun when Stu suddenly cursed under his breath, easing off the accelerator. I glanced up, squinting against the glare of headlights to see a sleek black Escalade blocking the road ahead. Several more vehicles were parked haphazardly along the curb.

“The fuck is this?” Stu growled, braking hard. The truck lurched to a stop mere inches from the Escalade's polished chrome bumper.

My pulse quickened, adrenaline starting to hum through my veins. Maybe I'd get my playtime after all.

Car doors opened, disgorging a cadre of hard-eyed men in white tank tops, jeans, sunglasses, and bandanas. They moved with the oiled precision of those accustomed to violence, fanning out to surround the truck.

My pulse raced as I watched the men close in, their movements predatory and purposeful. The glint of gun metal and the coiled tension in their postures set my nerves alight, excitement warring with wariness in my gut. Beside me, Stu gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his jaw clenched tight.

One of the men, his arms sleeved with intricate tattoos, rapped sharply on Stu's window with the butt of his gun. “Out of the truck, cabrón.”

My pulse hammered in my throat as Stu and I exchanged a loaded glance. Fuck. Romeo had found us.

Stu's eyes flashed with barely leashed violence, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I could practically feel the murderous intent radiating off him, as palpable as the cloying desert heat. My own temper flared to match it, memories of our last run-in with Romeo's goons still vivid and raw.

The blinding pain as a fist cracked against my cheekbone. The copper bloom of blood in my mouth. Romeo's enraged roar as my teeth latched onto his ear and tore, hot sticky crimson gushing over my chin. We'd barely escaped with our lives, fighting tooth and nail, leaving a pile of broken gangster bodies in our wake.

The tattooed man wrenched open Stu's door, jamming the gun barrel against his temple. “I said out, motherfucker. Boss wants a word.”

Stu glowered but complied, sliding from the cab with a threatening growl. Another goon yanked my door open, meaty fingers bruising my bicep as he dragged me out.

“Easy, handsome,” I purred, stumbling against him. “I like it rough, but at least buy me dinner first.”

He sneered and shoved me toward a waiting van, its sliding door yawning open like a hungry maw. A black hood descended over my head, rough fabric scratching my face and muffling my senses. Disoriented, I felt myself manhandled into the van, my shoulder slamming painfully against the floorboard.

Stu grunted nearby, presumably receiving the same treatment. The slam of the door plunged us into suffocating darkness, the air close and humid under the hood. The van dipped and rocked as more bodies piled in.

“Cozy in here,” I quipped, my voice slightly muffled. “Someone wanna tell me where we're going?”

Agun muzzle dug into my ribs. “Shut the fuck up, puta, before I put a hole in you and fuck it.”

The van jostled over uneven terrain, each bump and pothole jarring my bruised body. The black hood obscured everything, but I could feel the heat of the other bodies packed in around me, smell their sweat and gun oil. My wrists ached where the zip ties bit into my flesh, my bound hands trapped uselessly behind my back.

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