Page 13 of Frenemies

His response was to lift his head and spit in my face.

Yeah, didn’t think so.

“Alright, then,” I wiped the drool off my cheek. “Let’s get down to business.”

“You’re not going to get shit out of me,” he called out as I walked over to the bar and began rifling through my bag. “Or Road Runner.”

Road Runner?

I cocked a brow at barbed wire boy. “Really?”

Worst road name ever. I almost felt sorry for the asshole.

While Road Runner ducked his head, his friend had no problem speaking out.

“He’s fast as fuck.”

A deep crimson drop danced its way across Road Runner’s arm. Leaving behind a sticky wet trail before dripping into the growing puddle on the floor. He was fast as fuck, alright. The prick was going to bleed out faster than a pig slaughtered for Easter dinner. Guess it was a good thing I had someone else to play with.

Pool table nimrod held onto his smug ass smirk, and then I spun around. The look on his face hit the ground along with the bike chain in my hand.

That’s right motherfucker.

“W-what are you doing with that?” He sputtered out while sliding his eyes over the small spikes carved into each link.

Bike chains had teeth as it was. These ones, I may have sharpened a bit. The only weapon worth having was one with a bite.

“What?” I raised my arm, causing the links to clatter, “This?”

I didn’t get a response, just a wide-eyed stare.

“Feeling anymore chatty now?” I clenched my fist, tightening my leather glove around the chain. “You can end all this. All you gotta do is tell me where Harris is.”

I had to hand it to Naomi. When she bought something, she bought quality. I couldn’t feel shit through these gloves except for the heavy weight of the metal in my hand.

“I don’t know where he is.”

Wrong answer.

I raised my arm, flinging the chain back and bringing it down on his thighs. The teeth tore into his jeans and carved through his skin like butter, causing specks of flesh, blood, and cloth to spray through the air. I cocked my head at the mess seeping into the pool table. Damn. That worked better than I thought. Barbed wire boy threw up behind me while pool table nimrod screamed louder than a bitch in labor.

The acrid smell of vomit combined with this pansy-ass pussy’s blubbering. It was fucking annoying. Thankfully, I was prepared for this. I walked across the room, put my phone in the dock, and played Cream’s‘Sunshine Of My Love.’I rolled my neck and turned up the volume until the melodic tone drowned out everything else.

Letting out a sigh, I returned to the task at hand. Pool table fuckface was still screaming. I could see his mouth moving but couldn’t hear anything other than the music. This might be a little counterproductive. It wasn’t like he was trying to say anything, though. When he did, I could always turn the volume down.

I headed back over to and skimmed the seeping wounds on his thighs. That looked like it hurt. Pretty sure I could see bone in one of those slices. So, I suppose he had a reason to cry. But he did bring this on himself.

Let’s see if we can really get those tears falling.

I snapped the chain through the air again, this time bringing it down on his stomach. Now that was messy. Instead of a spray of gore, I got a cloud of blood that mingled with the projectile vomit erupting from his mouth. A disgusting display that I took a step back from, and rightfully so. I barely dodged the clump of meat that splatted on the floor at my feet.

“Stop it.” Barbed wire boy yelled over the music, “We don’t know where Harris is.”

Some tiny spark of sympathy tugged in the back of my brain, along with Riley’s voice asking me what the fuck I was doing. That was quickly washed away by the image of her crying over her boyfriend’s bloody body.

Never thought I’d like Micha, not until the day he almost sacrificed himself for her. Because of him, I didn’t have to choose who to protect. Both Naomi and my niece were still breathing, and the least I could do was make sure it stayed that way, regardless of who it hurt.

I’d find Harris, then I’d wipe my brother out of existence. Along the way, I’d take out every motherfucker wearing his patch. Just to show the world what a mistake it was to listen to Jax Mathers. And these two. . .

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