Page 3 of Redeeming Rabbit

“Fine.” Tap stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “But don’t make me regret this.”

Who the fuck did he think he was? My mother? I clenched my fists, wanting to lay into the bastard. He was no better than me. Okay, technically, he was, but he didn’t need to act so smug about it. It only made me want to needle him more. “Stick around, and I’ll give you a ride back.”

He and Kaos, the brother we’d arrived with, had left their bikes at the renovated fire station that served as our club headquarters and drove a loaner car from the shop. Our trip to Elenore’s apartment had two purposes. Kaos had come along to pick up Tina and her son. They’d taken the loaner car to his house, where he planned to hide them from Tina’s abusive husband. Tap had come to evaluate the security of Elenore’s apartment. He’d installed equipment to keep her safe and alert us if her sister’s husband showed his face. I’d come along for something to do on my day off. And because after hearing about how Matt had smacked around his wife, I was itching to serve the coward some retributive justice. Too bad he hadn’t made good on his threat and come for Tina. I couldn’t wait to see how tough he was now that she had a bunch of pissed-off bikers at her back.

“You want me to ride bitch on your bike?” Tap asked, his eyebrows creeping up toward the bill of his baseball cap. “I’d rather take a dull switchblade to the gut.” He tugged a set of keys from his pocket. “Thankfully, I don’t have to. I have orders to drive Tina’s car to the station so we can check it for trackers.”

I tipped my head to him. “Here’s hoping the son-of-a-bitch is stupid enough to come lookin’ for it.” There wasn’t a man in our club who wouldn’t love an opportunity to rip a wife beater’s arms off and clobber him with them.

Tap nodded. “Finally, something we agree on. Go get your keys, brother. I’ll see you back at the station.”

I saluted him. “Ten-four, son.”

Shaking his head, he turned and walked away. I spun on my heel and headed back toward the building. My hands immediately started sweating, and my ribs dug into my chest.

What were you thinking, dumbass? This isn’t you. Get back to the fire station before you make a complete fool of yourself.

But it was too late for wisdom now; I had keys to retrieve.

2

Elenore

Iwish a motherfucker would.

Whoa. Where had that come from? Apparently, my new weapon and mortal enemy had turned me into Samuel L. Jackson. Regardless, I glared at the front door, Taser in hand, willing my sister’s ex to make an appearance. The weapon felt good—comforting—making me wonder why I’d never armed myself before. After growing up in a small Idaho town where residents owned more guns than teeth, the moment Matt became a threat, I should have purchased a shotgun for home security. Yet the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Then again, I could give myself a little grace, considering I’d never hung out with the shooting range crowd. Or assimilated with any group of people, really. The bikers who’d just vacated my condo were no exception. They’d shown up approximately an hour ago to point out the deficiencies in my home security. I’d conceded to some of their points, and, at my approval, they upgraded my locks and installed a hidden camera aimed at my door that would dispatch the biker brigade to save me if Matt Parker ever grew large enough balls to come knocking.

MatthewFuckingParker.

My big sister’s soon-to-be ex-husband was a malignant, fungating wound on the taint of society. He’d looked great on paper with his MBA in business, respectable job, and cookie-cutter house in the suburbs, but he was the black hole that had devoured Tina’s hopes and dreams. In the seven months since my sister had shown up on my doorstep with her young son, tears in her eyes and bruises mottling her skin, she’d let bits and pieces of their horror story slip. In turn, I’d discovered the abundance of rage bottled inside me that no kickboxing classes, yoga, or meditations could quell. I was a shaken bottle of champagne, ready to explode. When my cork finally popped, I would shoot straight up Matt Parker’s ass, clutching my newly acquired Taser as I lit that bastard up like a Christmas tree.

That’s not what would actually happen, of course. I understood how Tasers affected the nervous and muscular systems, and they wouldn’t literally increase the brightness of a person. Still, it would sure be satisfying to witness the effects. After all, Matt Parker would be the perfect test subject. Ever since his last threatening phone call, my mind had been working through body disposal options, realizing that sometimes knowledge wasn’t power.

Sometimes, knowledge was temptation.

As a bioscientist, I’d identified the best way to liquefy a corpse. Thanks to the power of the internet, anyone could look up instructions. But unlike the average Joe, neither my browser history nor purchasing necessary lab supplies would implicate me. I already had access to sodium hydroxide and knew precisely how much water to add and what temperature it needed to reach to turn a wife-beating brother-in-law into mineral oil. Well, not mineral oil per se, since that’s derived from naturally occurring crude oil, but his remains would be the consistency of mineral oil.

Biodiesel.

I chuckled to myself. The idea of turning my former brother-in-law into fuel definitely had appeal. In approximately three hours, the world could be blissfully Matt-free.

What were the risks?

DNA contamination? Bah. I was used to working in a sterile environment, was well-versed in the procedures, and had unmonitored access to the proper equipment. Even if the authorities somehow found Matt’s remains, there’d be no evidence to pin his disappearance on me. I’d see to that.

And the downside?

Murder was wrong. There could be emotional consequences I hadn’t counted on, but as an intelligent, capable adult female, I could figure that out later.

Oh. My. God. I could become a criminal mastermind if I ever felt so inclined.

My fifth-grade science teacher had been onto something when she’d said I could be anything I aspired to be. The realization was slightly disturbing yet strangely liberating. There was power in knowing no man would ever beat me senseless because I could reduce him to primordial goo. Matt Parker had fucked around, and he was one poor decision away from experiencing the consequences of an enraged anatomy expert. I knew precisely where to cut to maximize pain while prolonging his life.

Some would doubtlessly find my reaction to Matt’s abuse extreme, but seriously, fuck them. They hadn’t been there after our mother died when Tina and I were abandoned in the custody of an uncle and aunt who had never wanted children. A fact they’d made abundantly clear at every opportunity. Tina and I accepted then that we’d have to protect each other because nobody else would. She became my best friend and staunchest supporter, driving me to after-school classes, helping me apply for scholarships, and encouraging me to shoot for the stars. When I was accepted into the University of Washington, Tina moved to Seattle with me so I wouldn’t have to brave the city alone.

She’d been there for me when I needed her most. Then, instead of coming to me in her hour of need, she’d hidden Matt’s abuse behind long sleeves and infrequent contact. I’d believed the lies that she was busy, allowing her to drift further and further away. She should have marched to my doorstep the moment that cretin had struck out at her, but instead, she’d put up with it for far too long.

Why?

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