Page 70 of Dirty Love

“What the fuck are they doing in California?”

“Why do you care?”

“They’re the reason I’m in here, you dumb shit,” he spits out. “They set me up.”

“Yeah, so you keep saying,” I mutter, stepping back to make room for Michael and the other two guys. “But let’s say that’s true for a second… can you really blame them? You made them miserable, man. You fucked those boys up so bad they thought it was okay to fuck each other.”

His lip curls and he shudders, thrashing his elbows about when we pull him up off the floor and toss him into the freezing cold water coming down from the shower head. I wrap my hands around his throat and shove him back against the wall, my own lip curling in disgust while I move my eyes over his form.

“I can’t figure out what my sister ever saw in you.”

“Your sister was a stupid little cunt.”

“Is that right?” I laugh, taking the heavy pipe Michael slips me to smash it into the side of his head.

His knees hit the tiles and I hit him again, enjoying the way the blood flies from his head the way candy flies from a piñata. The four of us crowd his space and the guards I’m friends with do nothing, standing off to the side with their eyes on us while my other friends strip the clothes from Eric’s body. Despite the big gash in his head, he keeps struggling and then finally tries to fight us off, looking up at me with a splash of fear in his dark blue eyes.

“What are you doing?”

I shrug nonchalantly and rest my weapon on my shoulder, bending my knees to bring my face down to his level. “Did you know I made a deal with your sons a couple years ago?” I whisper, smirking like a bad motherfucker when his brows dip in confusion.

“What deal?”

“It’s quite simple, really,” I tell him, hanging my arms over the pipe on either side of my head. “I gave them my truck… and they gave me you. Isn’t that nice?”

“Preston.”

“Eric.”

“Don’t—”

“I’m sorry, what?” I shout over the voices, squinting at him while I lift a hand to my ear. “I can’t hear you over all these men searching for a good pussy to fill.”

He growls at me and Michael flips him over onto his stomach, ripping the orange pants from his legs before he kneels down behind him. I tilt my head to the side and watch him pull out his massive forearm of a cock, wincing on purpose while I study Eric’s hairy asshole.

“How on earth are you going to fit all that in there?”

He ignores my very valid question and the other two pin my sister's killer with their knees on his shoulders, laughing like maniacs while they beat his face and back.

“Fuck!” Eric shouts, puking all over the drain, his face turning an awful shade of green. “No! No! Preston, get him off me! Get him the fuck off—”

I kick him in the face to shut him up and watch them take it in turns, without lube because, well, I don’t have any on me right now, but also because fuck this asshole. Literally. I want him to feel the way they tear him in two. I hope it burns like a bitch, and I hope he burns in hell for all the pain he inflicted on my sister.

He broke her fucking spirit, killed her brain and crushed her into a shell of the girl she used to be.

He crushed her skull on her own goddamn counter.

And now I’m going to crush his.

“Preston!” he screams, his high pitched voice cracking at the end. “Preston, please. Please, make it s-stop.”

“You wanna die already?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” he cries, his teeth chattering at the icy cold water raining down on him, his tears soaking his face as his mouth pools with blood. “Yes, I’m s-sure.”

---