Page 62 of Tear Me Down
“D, wait!” It’s too late for me to hear Grease’s pleas. I swing my fist down into Viking’s face, barely feeling the sting before I pull my pistol backout. I aim quickly and shoot him in the shoulder—the same level that she’s shot, but closer to his chest—before I aim at his head. Viking screams out and clutches his arm, rolling over and trying to crawl away, but Grease blocks me—standing in front of his man with his arms stretched out before I can get the final shot out. “Let me deal with him! Don’t kill him, let me handle it.”
Viking quickly scrambles to stand up, eyeing me like I’ve declared war.
“SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AT THE CLUB HOUSE!” I roar, feeling the strain in my throat as my voice carries its way through the surrounding trees.
“I understand that, and I'm sorry! He will be dealt with but let me do it! Club business.” Grease pleads with wide eyes and shaky limbs as he moves to hold his palms out to me, as if that has any effect on me. She was supposed to be safe and away from all of this destruction. Grease failed. Carter failed. I failed…
Ashia then steps in front of me and puts her hands on my face, trying to calm my trembling as she caresses my jaw. Her touch is the only divine thing here, and I can’t help but pay attention to the soft grazes.
“I'm okay, baby, really. It’s just a scratch,” she whispers, trying to contain the shakiness in her voice and the tremors from her fingers, but I hear and feel it all. Her fear does something to me, only egging the demon inside me to continue the violent crusade as I look into her frightened, perfect golden eyes.
“It could've been worse!”
“But it wasn’t.” She stares into my eyes deeply as she tightens her grip on my face. “He already got worse than me.”
“He should be dead,” I seethe, almost fearful of how wickedly the words slip out.
“He’ll be dealt with. Remember what we talked about outside of the club? It’s not worth it.”
“You're worth more to me than anything else.” I step beside her and raise my gun to Viking, only for Grease to step in again.
“D, please, man. I'm sorry. He’s not well; let me deal with him. I'll get him better. We’ll owe you,” he pleads. While I do respect Grease, I wouldn’t necessarily call us friends, and his begging means nothing to me.
“You already owe me.”
“Then make it double. You know what our guys mean to men like us. Let me handle him.” His look turns from pleading to confusion, and he no longer looks directly at me. “D?” he questions, and I follow his gaze to Ashia’s chest. A single red dot now illuminates the skin over her heart, making my breaths come to a screeching halt. I look up in the direction it could come from to see a single male and female on the opposite end of the empty field. The man? I don’t recognize him. He’s tall and dressed in black tactical gear, and he’s the one holding the sniper rifle, which definitely puts him on my kill list. The woman… I recognize her instantly.
She’s the sour woman from the Dust party. The one that clung on the arms of the Italian man and looked upon everyone else like they were beneath her. I’d notice that salt and pepper mohawk anywhere, and it’s like I can feel her eyes bore into mine, even though we’re several yards away.
“I’m quite impressed,” the female loudly exclaims. “I count at least twenty bodies, and my product was retrieved?” She holds her chin high as she stares at me intensely, practically daring me to make a move. “Drop your weapons, or my right hand here will open fire on the woman.” My chest tightens, and Zeke, Grease, and I don’t hesitate—dropping our weapons immediately. Viking on the other hand…
Dumb son of a bitch.
“Suelta tu arma, Vike, ya has hecho suficiente daño aquí hoy,” Grease says to Viking without taking his eyes off the woman, and thankfully he complies.
“You look familiar,” the woman speaks aloud, and I know she’s speaking to me. Challenging me. Her gaze burns into my skin and takes in my features as a grin sprouts on her face. “Your father must be very proud.” My stomach drops and then flips. This was intentional; it must have been. Whether to lure me out or get my attention, either way, it worked. I quickly step in front of Ashia, allowing the dot to land on my chest instead.
“No!” My incredible woman yells as I step, trying to cut in front to protect me, but my harsh grip on her arm doesn’t allow her to move. I need to make it very clear to this vile bitch that no one threatens my woman, and that she can’t fucking have her. My wall of confidence actually cracks a little when the woman’s grin then lifts into a full smile, like she’s just won.
“Don’t worry, we’ll leave in peace.Today.” Her tone is almost singsong. “But I’ll be seeing you soon.” The dot disappears, and we duck for our weapons, only to come up and find them already gone. I step forward and look around frantically, noticing the skill and training it would take to not only evade our attack on the property, but to disappear so quickly, seemingly without a trace.
“Who the fuck was that?” Zeke asks.
“A big problem,” I say as I turn back to Grease and Viking, taking a step toward them to finish this, but I’m brought to a halt by Ashia’s desperate grip on my arm. I turn to see her, and the sight instantly softens me. There’s blood dripping down her arm, and her eyes are filled with so much fear, I swear they’re trembling as much as her bottom lip is.
“Let’s just go home. Please?” she asks softly. I move my grip from her arm up to her cheek and grasp it lightly—caressing the soft, now dirt-speckled skin.
She’s been through enough today, put your issues away.
I turn back to Grease, sure to show the rage in my features.
“You owe me,” I fume.
“No fucking way!” Viking steps up and roars angrily but doesn’t get very far before Grease points his gun and shoots Viking in the opposite shoulder.
“¡Silencio!” Grease yells at a now screaming Viking. “¡Ya he tenido suficiente de tu desobediencia e imprudencia! ¡Tendrás suerte si no te mato yo mismo!” He turns back to us. “I owe you. Big. We cool?” he asks with a tinge of attitude, but I know it’s not for me—it’s in regard to his rogue man whimpering behind him.
“We’re cool,” I agree as one of my men pulls up in one of the SUVs they came in. Zeke runs over, grabs a med kit, and then runs it back over to us, quickly handing it to me so I can wrap her arm before we head out of here.
