Page 52 of Wicked Lies

“What’s the matter?” Farrell taunted. “Where’s all your wise guy comments?”

They released him, and he fell to the floor. He held himself up on his hands and knees refusing to collapse in front of them. The thud of shoes against the floor made him focus his swollen eyes on Farrell’s city-issued wingtips.

Farrell hoisted him up by the collar. “Frank sends his regards.”

Pain jolted through him, but he bit back his anguish.

“Fuck you,” Nick mumbled through swollen, blood-smeared lips.

Farrell leaned in. “Frank says you keep pushing, and he’ll tell all your secrets.” His harsh breath spat against Nick’s ear.

The pure hate in Farrell’s face didn’t scare Nick. It made him mad. He’d worked so hard to get out, yet Farrell and Frank loved to drag him down.

“Get him outta here.” Farrell shoved him toward Jax, who helped him out the door.

When they reached the Escalade, Nick opened the door and then eased himself into the seat. His insides shifted with every move. He drew some deep breaths, but it didn’t help the pounding in his head.

Jax got in on the driver’s side. “I knew Frank was pissed.” He lit up a cigarette, dragged deep, then started the SUV. “I was afraid this was gonna happen,” Jax said around a billow of smoke. “What’re you gonna do now?”

Nick slowly rotated his head, and a kaleidoscope of colors flashed before his eyes. “Would you please shut up?” He held Jax’s gaze for an extra second to make his point. “And put out that fuckin’ cigarette. The smoke is killing me.”

Jax furrowed his brow, pitched the cigarette out the window, and remained silent for the rest of the ride to the club. Nick fished his phone from his pocket and called Samson to fill him in and that he’d be stopping by to discuss their next move.

Nick pressed his forehead against the cool mirrored wall of the elevator leading to the apartment over the club. The slight movement made him nauseous, and he was happy when it reached the third floor. He shuffled off the elevator, and let himself into the apartment, happy that Cheryl was still downstairs working. He didn’t need her seeing him beat to shit.

“Fuck.” Samson grimaced from the chair in the living room. “What the hell did they do to you?”

Nick went behind the bar, slowly bent from the waist, and opened the small fridge to grab an ice pack. What a fucked-up lifestyle when ice packs were ready and waiting for them. He wrapped a paper towel around the freezing packet and pressed it to his eye.

“Don’t look like your nose is broke.” Samson observed. “But you’re gonna have one hell of a shiner.”

“Farrell’s a punk. He needed two other cops with him to do his shit.” Nick leaned toward the mirror over the bar and brushed his fingertips along his cheekbone. An irrepressible rage churned inside him when he glimpsed his skin already turning a sickly shade of purple and green.

He slowly made his way across the room, then settled on the couch. “You sure you should be up and around?” He motioned to Samson’s shirtless mid-section wrapped in gauze from his ribcage to the waist of his low-slung jeans.

“Doc said the lung is fine. It’s the busted rib tearing me up.” Samson sighed. “Lying in bed was making me crazy.”

“Fuckin’ Farrell was carrying out Frank’s orders. They trashed the place good. The brand new mirror we just hung is in pieces along with every bottle of booze behind the bar.”

“Can’t say I’m totally surprised.” Samson smartly held back the “I told ya so.”

“Jax is rattled. Driving me fuckin’ crazy with questions all the way here.” Nick dragged his hand through his hair. “What we’re gonna do about Frank? What’s gonna happen next? He’s so damn jumpy.”

Nick shifted the ice to the other side of his jaw. “At first, I thought Farrell was gonna lock me up.” A bolt of heat shot up the base of his neck. “I can’t go in the box again.”

Samson motioned to Nick’s face. “Looks like he did way worse.”

“Frank’s out of control.” Nick paused. “He iced Jimmy.”

“What?” Samson leaned in and flinched.

“Cheryl told me last night. She and Jimmy were fighting outside the Pit. He was hitting her, and she stabbed him in self-defense. She freaked out and hid when she heard footsteps. Then she saw Frank finish him off with the same knife she used. So, of course, he’s blackmailing her and threatening to set her up.”

“That is fucked up.” Samson shifted in the chair and winced.

“Reason why we can’t back down now.”

Samson rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”

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