Page 19 of Vicious in the Dark

He wasn’t the one I planned to hurt. Any second now my target would arrive. And just like that, the Archer crew appeared. Two blacked out cars rolled into the parking lot, mere moments apart. The guy in the van hesitated with the door open.

“Better move it,” I said. “Shit’s going to get violent.”

He cast a frantic glance between the black cars and me before muttering a few fucks and bailing out. Without hanging around, he took off down the alley. He’d get his van back once we unloaded it at one of our properties and ditched it.

At the driver’s sudden departure the Archer group took notice of us and spilled from their cars, drawing weapons. It wasn’t the first time these folks had pointed a gun at my head. Wouldn’t be the last.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Hale?” A guy I knew as Gary hollered as he rushed toward the van.

Each of my people also drew guns, except for Ruthless and me. Pulling the knife from my hip, I flipped it over and over in my hand. “Found myself in the neighborhood. Noticed you had a delivery and thought I’d help myself. Since your driver bailed, I’m just going to take the entire van. Cool?”

“Go fuck yourself, Hale,” Gary hissed, gun wavering as he drew closer. “Get away from the van before I put a bullet in your face.”

Continuing to flip the knife in one hand, I pretended to mull it over. “I didn’t think you had a death wish, but hey, if you insist.”

Without warning, I whipped the knife at Gary, nailing his gun arm. The weapon fell from his grasp as he cradled his injured arm and shouted at his people to blow my damn head off. Before he finished the sentence, my fist pounded his face, throwing him down on the ground.

I snatched my knife from his arm and twirled its handle between my fingers. A throwing star flung by Ruthless stuck in the side of another man’s neck. Nobody was stupid enough to take a shot. With guns drawn on both sides, neither of us had the advantage. Someone whipped a small blade that zipped past my head, almost grazing my ear. That was the kind of action I could get behind tonight.

A woman with a shaved head and a baseball bat came forward. “Archer will have your head, Hale. Leave now and save us all the trouble of a war.”

I scoffed and waved my knife at the van. “A war over one delivery? We both know nothing in this van is worth that much. Is it worth bringing the kind of heat shots fired will bring on your little strip club here?”

If one of Archer’s people put a bullet in one of us and drew the police, he’d be more pissed at them than us. They knew it too. Since my own inside man on the force had exposed Archer’s main inside man as a corrupt asshole with a badge, I had the upper hand with the cops. For now anyway. He had nobody in there to pull strings for him until he made new arrangements. Even if a silencer helped keep it quiet, a body on the pavement wouldn’t stay hidden long.

Archer’s people exchanged several looks. Baseball Bat Gal nodded and they all moved at once. Guns were shoved away in favor of fists, knives, and whatever else we all carried. That bat swung toward my head, making things interesting. I caught hold of it before it could rattle my brains and wrenched it from her hands.

She jerked back out of reach before I could take a swing at her. But she wasn’t the one I wanted. The biggest guy of the bunch lumbered toward me, brass knuckles adorning one hand. He was the one I wanted to tangle with tonight. A challenge to help rid me of the emotional turmoil that had driven me to seek out this little shindig.

Brass Knuckles threw his fist at my face in the same moment that I swung the stolen bat. Needing to feel the pain, I let him get in one hit. The impact snapped my neck back and opened a gash on my cheek while giving my teeth a rattle. Not bad. The bat connected with his skull, the sound not all that different than the crack of a bat against a baseball. He went down with a pained grunt, hitting the asphalt. Home run, motherfucker.

I stood over him with the bat raised. While I didn’t plan to beat his brains all over the pavement, he sure as hell thought I did. I mean, anything could happen. When slamming a fist into my leg didn’t achieve much other than a bat across his shoulder, he withdrew a switchblade and slashed at my thigh.

Knowing better than to let anyone get too close to an arterial area with a blade, I brought the bat down hard on his forearm. The crack of bone was music to my fucking ears. A song of sorrow made for pain like mine. His agonized shriek was the beautiful finish.

Leaving him there to wail and hold his shattered arm, I whirled to find Ruthless fending off two people at once. I dropped the bat and rushed one of the men, hitting him hard with a bodycheck that knocked us both to the ground. There was a struggle as he did everything in his power to throw me off him. I pinned him beneath me, dropping fists filled with rage into his face. Only when my hands were bloody did I stop.

By the time sirens rang out, bringing an end to the fight, I breathed hard and tasted blood. Someone from inside the club must have called the cops. A patron most likely. The staff knew better.

Our two groups quickly separated. The Archer team made no additional effort to keep us from driving off in their van. Ruthless hopped into the driver’s seat and peeled away down the alley while I fell back with the rest of my people, disappearing into the night.

I arrived home feeling spent but alive. The cuts and bruises felt like bliss. I preferred the physical exhaustion and pain to what I’d felt roiling about inside me when Maven fled that bathroom.

After pouring a stiff drink, I stood in my bathroom staring into the mirror at my bloody reflection. A gash on my cheek from the brass knuckles still bled. Another on my lip had stopped, crusting over with dried blood. I lifted my shirt to check out a bruise forming on my ribs. When had that happened?

My father would have hated the way I ran the empire he’d left behind. I fucking loved that. Unfortunately, Maven hated it too. And it had driven her away from me.

I tossed back my entire drink, waiting for the rush of alcohol in my veins. Anything to not think about her. To not feel. It had been working for seven years, so why did it fail me now?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MAVEN

“You know Wolfe will be there, right? That’s why Mom insisted we tag along to this party for plastic people. Thank God you’re here to suffer with me now.” Rumer twirled in the middle of her small apartment living room, showing off the strapless red dress hugging her curves. “What do you think? Is it fancy enough? Or still too biker slut?”

From my place on the couch stuffing my face with popcorn and snuggling Akasha, I studied her outfit with a critical eye. The pink and blue watercolor unicorn tattooed on her ankle was cute as hell. It matched the rainbow kitten on her inner wrist.

“It’s kind of both. I think it will pass for the anniversary party of a person we barely know. And if it doesn’t, who fucking cares?”

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