Page 94 of Second Sets Omnibus
“I’m fine. Let me deal with these idiots,” I grumble, nodding at the idiots squaring up for another fight. “All right, boys. Because that’s what you are. You’re not fucking men. Men don’t touch things they’re not supposed to. Now, get the fuck out. You’re not welcome here ever again.” I raise a brow when they square up again, eyeing the bat in my hand with a cocky expression until it falls.
“I got ‘em, Riv. We’ll take their picture and everything,” Bert wheezes out of breath, finally making it to the bar after it’s all said and done. Sometimes, I wonder why I still keep him around. Fuckery keeps happening on his watch when he’s nowhere to be found. Maybe the bar needs more changes than I initially thought.
“Thank fuck.” Once Bert has the two troublemakers kicked to the curb, the boys jump back up on stage but keep their eyes on me, and they continue their set list with more enthusiasm than before.
Leaning on the bar, I eye the boys on stage, rocking the shit out of the crowd. A strange feeling settles over me, thinking back to the two dumb fucks from earlier who were escorted out and thrown on the street. Something about them has anxiety rolling up my arms and prickling my skin. It’s like they had a missionmarching here to touch and egg me on. There was something dead in their beady eyes, like they never took no for an answer.
As time passes, I make my rounds through the bar, ensuring everything runs smoothly. The rest of the crowd remains respectful, albeit fucking messy, but still. They rock out to the hour-long set, chanting the guys’ names and going ballistic when they offer the crowd an encore.
“Thank you, Dead End! It’s been fucking great!” Kieran shouts into the microphone breathlessly, trying to catch his breath. Running a hand over his forehead, he swipes the sweat away and smiles at the cheering crowd. “We’ll see you next time!” The boys each stand at the edge of the stage, taking their last bow. Reaching down, they shake their fans’ hands before waving and disappearing backstage to cool down before they pack everything away.
“Another good show, bossy lady,” Ode says over the loud chatter of the crowd, slowly making their way toward the door. Only a few will stay and continue to drink.
“Once everyone’s out, I’m going to clean up and take the trash out,” I say, squeezing her shoulder.
“Isn’t that what we’re for?” she shouts back, handing another patron a drink, and then closes their tab.
“Pfft. Bitch,” I scoff with a wave. “I may be the manager, but I’ll still get dirty.” I wink, heading to a supply closet next to my back office and grabbing a trash bag.
As soon as I hit the main floor, I begin cleaning up. Candy wrappers, beer cans and bottles, old receipts, and even old food sticks to the floor. Ugh. Animals! There’s a trash can at every friggin corner, and they decide to leave their shit on the ground.
“Ode!” I shout, tying up the heavy trash bag and throwing it over my shoulder with a grunt. Shit. I swear there are a few cement blocks in here. “I’m taking this out!” Ode gives me thethumbs up as I make my way out the backdoor and into the cool air.
I take a deep breath, relieved the staleness of the bar no longer infiltrates my nose. Replaced by the fresh, night air blowing through the abandoned alleyway. An eerie feeling churns in my gut as I approach the dumpster, stopping me in my tracks.
Flipping open the lid, I peer over my shoulders and shake my head. This alleyway at one in the morning had always been a little creepy. Not to mention the attacks that have happened on this side of town. I’ve always been cautious, hence the knife in my pocket, but tonight it feels like eyes are burning right through me.
Once the heavy bag is deposited into the dumpster, I turn on my heel, ready to get back inside. The guys promised me a ride home after a long day of working, and I can’t wait to settle into bed. Lately, Rad and Callum have been stopping by for sleepovers or vice versa. Kieran and Ash hang out but never stay over. They’ve alluded to family issues but have never gotten specific about why they can’t stay over. Often, I find myself squished between their bodies in a warm cocoon of comfort. Something that should cause concern, but doesn’t anymore, because I’m free to do what I want with who I wish to and…
Pain erupts in my skull the moment something heavy knocks into me and sends me to my hands and knees, scraping along the pavement. All the air in my lungs blows out into the asphalt, and I’m left gasping for breath. My fingers dig into the ground, desperate to move and stand, but moving seems impossible. The world around me spins endlessly, and I’m pushed belly first onto the road, scraping every inch of my legs and arms when I skid forward.
“I don’t think so,” the menacing voice from my nightmare’s growls, placing his heavy foot between my shoulder blades. “I’vegot a job to do,” he says with a laugh, gripping me by my hair. “I won’t find this hard at all. I’m not one to hit it twice, but you were so damn pretty and tight the first time. Why not?” His low chuckle does little to settle my damn nerves.
No. Not again. Not him. What in the ever-living fuck is he talking about? God. My heart races out of my chest, spearing through my damn ribs. I kick my leg out and, by God's grace, land a strike to his knee. He grunts, gripping my hair tighter than before until my eyes burn and tears run down my cheeks. Popping happens in my neck when he yanks it backward, forcing a cry from my lips.
My lips pop open, pleading for help when he turns me over on my back, yanking the strands of my hair between his fingers. Pain encases my entire body like a fire scorching my skin, from the scrapes burning on my exposed legs to my fingers clawing at his arms.
“Scream all you want,” he murmurs. “I kind of like it.”
The world blurs before me, and I shake my head. Fuck. I must stay coherent, or I’ll never make it through again. I have to stay the fuck awake and acknowledge the fact my biggest monster holds me captive in the isolated alleyway behind the bar.
“Fuck you, Bradley,” I slur, spitting in his face. Or what I hope is his face. All I see are wiggly lines and weaving colors splashing the world.
By the force of the first blow to my face, my glob of spit must have hit its mark. The next impact reigns down on my face in a fury of fists, crunching my nose and cheekbones. Static takes over my ears when he finally stops his violent assault, leaving me a groaning, pleading mess.
Pain is the only thing radiating through my body, pulsating pain through every inch of my muscles. No matter how hard I try to move my arms and legs, they don’t cooperate, leaving meat his mercy. At fucking Bradley’s mercy—the last place I want to be. The last time I was, he took my innocence and fucking ran with it.
Time ticks by slowly as I lie there, feeling his hands in places they shouldn’t be. He murmurs words in my ear, but I can’t fucking hear him over the beating of my broken heart. The entire world fades into the shadows as I fumble for the weapon nestled deep in my pocket, the one I don’t leave home without—because of this man. The one time I didn’t have it with me, this happened, and I won’t let it happen again. I’ll die before I let him get what he wants.
“Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!” someone—a familiar resounding voice—shouts, and his footsteps clomp forward loudly as if he is running.
My eyes stay closed, and my body is too spent to move as he remains on top of me, taking his damn time to get what he wants. Thank God my shorts are still on, and he hasn’t started doing what I know he wants to do.
“The hell do you want?” Bradley spits, easing off of me, but doesn’t fully get up. By the sound of the crunching beside me, he sits his ass on the pavement.
“What the hell?” the voice fills with panic, and a hand touches my warm forehead. “She’s bleeding!” he hisses, rubbing a finger down my jaw. “You weren’t…”
“Weren’t what? You fucking…” I flinch, drowning out the words when the fingers run over my nose, and I cry out from the pain filling every inch of my fucking body.
