Page 78 of Massacre
Massacre
“I don’t give a flying fuck, kid,” I snarled at Sypher as I glared at him. “I want my guns back and my fucking bike.”
“Reaper ordered...”
Slamming my hand down on the table, I growled, “I don’t give a rat’s ass what Reaper ordered. He wasn’t left unarmed with his dick swinging in the wind, unable to protect his woman.”
“Massacre, I checked the cameras. No one came within a hundred yards of the cabin last night.”
“Well, someone threw a fucking rock through the window!”
“Hey,” Amber whisper-shouted, getting my attention. “Little ears.”
Turning, I softened my face at seeing Amber holding her niece Danika. My woman looked good with a baby on her hip.
“Sorry, babe.” I quickly smiled. “Won’t happen again.”
Saying nothing more, Amber left, and the second she was out of sight, I quickly turned and grabbed the little shit by his cut. Seething, I whispered menacingly, “Listen up, you little fuck. You either get me my motherfucking guns and my bike, or I swear to God, Sypher, I’m gonna plant my foot so far up your ass, you are gonna be tasting shoe leather for the rest of your life.”
The kid gulped, wide-eyed, and quickly nodded.
“See, I knew you’d be reasonable.” I smiled and released him as I patted him down, smoothing out his cut. Looking around the bigger cabin, I rubbed my stomach. “So what’s for breakfast?”
“Assholes don’t get food,” Sypher grumbled as he stormed out of his kitchen.
Grinning, I needled him, “But I’m hungry. I’m your guest!”
“Fuck off!”
Knowing I wasn’t going to get any food at Sypher’s place, Amber and I said our goodbyes and headed back over to our cabin when I spotted an ATV parked behind Sypher’s cabin. Stopping dead in my tracks, I asked, “Hey, babe. If you could have anything you wanted for breakfast, what would it be?”
Sighing, Amber groaned, “The Cornhusker breakfast, with sausage, bacon and pancakes slathered in butter. Lots of maple syrup and a cup of coffee. Why?”
“Sounds delicious.” I smirked, rubbing my hands together. “Let’s go eat that.”
“We can’t,” Amber huffed. “The diner is in town. We are supposed to stay here.”
“Here, there.” I shrugged. “We will keep it in the vicinity.”
Grabbing her hand, we ran for the ATV.
The engine rumbled to life beneath us, the sharp morning air rushing past as we tore through the open range, laughter trailing in our wake. Amber’s protests faded into excitement, and her grip tightened as we bumped over tree roots and ducked beneath low-hanging branches. Adrenaline hummed between us, the forbidden breakfast somehow making everything feel brighter, riskier, more alive.
By the time we reached the edge of the woods, the town of Diamond Creek, a distant outline on the horizon, shimmered with new possibilities. The scent of pine mingled with anticipation, and I could practically taste the buttery pancakes already.
Slowing the ATV, I glanced over my shoulder at Amber, catching the spark of mischief in her eyes that matched my own.
“Are we really doing this?” she asked, a grin breaking through her mock sternness.
“We’re really doing this,” I promised, leaping off the ATV and offering her my hand. After hiding it behind some trees, we slipped through the tangled brush, our boots crunching dried grass, and headed for the promise of good food and coffee—a small rebellion, but ours all the same.
“I can’t eat another bite,” Amber groaned, sitting back in her chair, rubbing her stomach. Not believing in waste, I slid her plate over to me and dug in.
My woman was right. This was a damn good breakfast.
“You know if anyone sees us and word gets back to King, we are going to be in trouble.”
Shrugging, I swallowed her remaining pancake before mumbling, “Nuttin’ new. I’m always in trouble for something.”
