Page 91 of Bull Rush

“Nah. You should have thought about all that before you got anywhere near Haze.” I close the distance between us. “You thought you’d get to steal from my family and have some fun with my wife and you’d just walk away?” I slap his cheek playfully, grinning at the way the panic sets into his eyes as they go wide, and his pupils dilate. He tries to talk again, and it’s muted by the dirty rag half stuffed down his throat. I take both sides of his face in my hands, pinching a little before I do my worst.

“This is where you’re going to learn not to fuck with my family.” I slam his head down as I draw my knee up hard, the cracking of the cartilage and bone in his nose, a muted grunt, and the slump of his body in the chair is the only answer to the violence.

I make quick work of what I do next, grabbing the knife out of my pocket to cut the tape on the chair and rebind his wrists. I let his limp body slide to the floor, and I stretch him out. I roll him with the carpet, turning him into a little Swiss roll of stupid fuck filling. He could come to any time, and I need him immobilized and silent when I take him out to the pole barn.

I grab the rope off the decorative saddle stand, using the knife to cut it, and I tie either end of the rug. I’m just in time to hear Haze pulling the truck up to the back deck and idling it. I throw the rug and its contents over my shoulder and haul them out, meeting her at the back door while she swings the storm door open.

“No one’s out right now. I checked.” She nods to the truck where she already has the tailgate down, and I toss him inside and climb in alongside him.

“Take us through the garage door at the pole barn,” I direct her, and her eyes briefly flash over the carpet and me before she’s back in the driver’s seat, taking us through the gravel lot between the house and the pole barn in rapid order. I just need to get him somewhere no one will see him. Somewhere we can keep him quiet until we decide how we’re going to get the information we need out of him. I shoot off a quick text to Grant, hoping he’s not indisposed at the moment.

She pulls the truck inside a few moments later, and the garage door comes down automatically behind us as she shuts off the engine and hops out.

“Tell me he’s not dead, Ramsey.” She looks at the rolled carpet, and her eyes meet mine with worry.

“He’s not dead. I just knocked him out to make the transport easier. We can get him strapped to something in here while we wait. What did Bo say?”

“He said okay.” Her eyes search mine again for answers.

“Good. Help me pull this carpet out?” I pull the tailgate out and she takes one end from me. I bear the weight while she helps guide the carpet as we walk through the pole barn to a place we can dump it on the floor. I’m not being particularly careful with the contents. If he breaks a bone or gets a little bruised up, it’s no different than what he did to her as far as I’m concerned, and in his case—he deserves it.

She helps me move him along, getting him into the center of the room where it’s mostly storage. We might as well start here so he can tell us what he and his friends were looking for. Because while I’m not worried about Curtis, his friends have me nervous. I have a feeling he’s just their scout, trying to find an easy way to get what they want before they come with theirfull forces. We have no idea where they are or where they went or even if they’ll be back. Never mind knowing who they are. Which means anything we do here needs to be quick and tireless until we can move him on—whatever that’s going to look like—once Bo and my brothers get here.

“Where are we putting him?” Haze asks as she whirls around, looking for somewhere convenient.

“Can you go get one of the chairs over there? They’re mixed in with some of that office furniture.” I nod toward where I’d been hiding a few short days ago. I knew there were at least a couple there that might work.

“Sure.” She skirts past me.

I pull the ropes on the carpet in the meantime, unrolling it and letting Curtis’s body loose. He’s still limp, and my heart skips a beat that I might have done more permanent damage than I thought when I knocked him out. I can’t afford another dead body on my rap sheet right now. I doubt they’ll overlook the second one the same way they did the first.

I kick his side, but he still doesn’t move. Another flurry of anxiety floats through my stomach, and I turn to look around. I can’t remember if the sink is still in here or if Haze removed it since she expanded the storage out here. I need cold water. That’s the quickest way to bring him to again if the circumstances aren’t worse than I planned.

I don’t get to find it, though, because, a moment later, my legs are taken out from me with one swift kick. Apparently, I don’t have to worry about Curtis being dead. Now I have to worry about me. Somehow, he’s managed to cut through the duct tape, and he’s got a small knife to my throat.

“I always knew you were stupid. But too stupid to check my pockets—I expected more of a challenge,” he rasps, his throat still sore, and his mouth still dry from the gag. He has me pinned down with his body weight as he hovers over me, oneknee in my gut. The knife brushes against my neck, and I swallow hard as I try to put distance between my skin and the blade.

“Curtis, don’t!” Haze calls from across the room.

He laughs in return, a cackle that’s cut short by the rawness of his throat.

“She’s much more compliant when you threaten something she cares about. I learned that one from you.” He presses the knife harder against my skin, and I close my eyes, cursing him and myself in the process. After what we just did, I worry about how he’ll punish her if I’m not there to stop him.

“Curtis, please. I’ll do whatever you want. If you want me to go with you, I will. Just don’t hurt him,” she pleads.

I open my eyes again. I have to fight him. I have to find a way to get him off me without him slicing my throat open because her fate will be worse. The damage he did already was when he thought he was playing nice.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’re going to do everything I want, sweetheart. Just as soon as I take care of him, you can blow me while you kneel over his body. Let him bleed out while you suck me dry.” Curtis chuckles to himself, and I start to move, but he digs the blade in, not enough to rupture an artery but enough to make me bleed. I grunt out a protest, and he laughs louder. “You’re fucked now, Stockton.”

“Fuck you,” I curse under my breath, my mind racing trying to think of how I can at least take him out with me.

“Curtis! Please!” Haze’s plea is desperate, and my heart hurts for her. I can’t leave her like this. Not with him.

“Shut the fuck up!” Curtis yells back at Haze.

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that.” I growl the words, and he laughs again, we tussle for a moment, but he maintains the upper hand by keeping the knife to my throat, nudging it against my jugular.

“Stop moving, or I’ll kill her too when I’m done with you.” Curtis grits his teeth, and the muscle at his jaw ticks, his face going red from leaning down over me. I hear Haze’s soft footsteps reverberate across the concrete under my head, but he doesn’t seem to register them. Too lost in his own rage to pay attention. “Now you better fucking listen to every word I say.”

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