Authors: Jenika Snow
Cain grabbed a pair of brass knuckles from the workbench, slipped them on, and moved back to Carl.
“Please, stop. I was drunk,” the man sputtered out. Blood dripped out of his nose and mouth, and fell onto his chest and the ground.
Cain stared at him for a second, thought about that day nine years ago, and didn’t give two shits if the fucker had been drunk. He swung out without answering, and connected the brass knuckles with the man’s face. Carl howled out in pain, struggled on his bonds, and that had Cain grinning and feeling pleasure course through his veins. Carl started to slowly still. Blood was a continuous flow from him, and a small pool was now on the floor beneath him. Cain took a step away from the puddle forming.
“My daughter kept saying stop, didn’t she? And if I hadn’t come when I did you would have damaged her even more than you already did.” Cain said in a deadly calm voice. “But you didn’t stop for Vi—” Cain stopped talking right away, and knew that he couldn’t bring Violet into this. The club knew about what had happened, had protected his girls while he was away, but he wasn’t going to bring her name into this for this fucker to hear. What the club didn’t know was that this prick had raped Violet before he had tried to go after his Fallina.
Malice moved up beside Cain, and he glanced over at the other member when Malice handed him a bottle of whiskey. Malice moved back toward Kink, who leaned against the other side of the building. Carl was semi-conscious now, making these gurgled, wet sounds.
“The guy’s about to take a dive, brother,” Lucien said.
Cain looked at the president of their club. Lucien took a hit from his cigarette, and then dropped it on the floor to snub it out.
“If you don’t finish him off he’ll die from blood loss or shock, and you’ll miss giving him that final blow.”
Cain nodded, knowing that was the truth, and his death wouldn’t be without Cain landing the final blow. He took another drink from the bottle of liquor while he stared at the man he was about to end, and then set the bottle on the floor.
“You’re right. I better end this now before this fucker passes out again and can’t feel how I make the last seconds of his life even more painful.” Cain went over to the workbench again, stared at the rusty equipment, and then grabbed a nine-inch serrated hunting knife. He walked over to the man, who was struggling to breathe now. He grabbed Carl’s chin, turned his swollen and beaten face up so he was forced to look at Cain, and bared his teeth.
“If you would have died nine years ago when I had your skull slamming against the cement, your death would have been far quicker. But for the last nine years while I was locked away all I could picture was all the ways I was going to take your life.” Cain took the blade and ran it along each side of this asshole’s face. The skin opened up instantly, and as sick as it was, Cain felt this thrill move through him at the sight. “You made my daughter afraid for a long fucking time, and although she is strong and living her life, your fucking existence still haunts her.” He wanted to roar out what he had done to Violet, but looking into the man’s eyes, seeing the life draining him, told him Carl wasn’t hearing much anyway.
Besides, Cain knew the vengeance he took. Violet had told him about the rape in confidence. Cain stabbed the man in the gut. “Your death won’t make her feel any better, because she won’t know what happened. I can’t tell her what I did, but she will know that her fear doesn’t need to control her anymore.”
He wouldn’t tell Fallina, but he’d tell Violet, because he knew she needed this, needed to have that closure. She may act like she was strong and living her life, and although a part of her was, there had to be a part that still thought about this man. Cain moved the blade up, felt the smoothness of that knife slicing into his flesh, and tightened his hold on the blade’s handle. “I could have let you live your life with the shame of what you did to my daughter, and probably other young girls.” He closed his eyes for a second and thought of his sweet Violet. “But killing you will sate this sadistic monster inside of me that has been itching to take you out.” He continued to move the blade up slowly. Carl gurgled, struggled fruitlessly. Cain bared his teeth, and twisted the blade one last time as the life faded from this motherfucker’s eyes.
Silence filled the room as Carl gave one last gasp for air. This release came from Cain within, this relief that he had finally done what he’d said he would do. He took a step back, and glanced down at the knife he held. The knife he held dripped the red, viscous fluid onto the ground. He lifted his gaze, stared at each of them, and then set the knife down. The bottle of whiskey still sat on the ground, and he picked it up and drank the alcohol until nothing was left. When he stared at Carl again, lifeless, he pulled the bottle away from his mouth and let it hang by his side.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with the body?” Not that he fucking cared if Carl rotted on the floor, but he couldn’t implicate the club.
“We have twenty acres on this property. I’m sure we can find some place for him,” Malice said in a deep voice, but Cain didn’t look at the man. All he could do was look at Carl, watch the blood that was slowly dripping from the orifices on his face.
“And no one will come looking for him?” Kink asked, and moved toward Carl and his motherfucking lifeless body.
“No, this piece of shit was living in a crack house about two hours from here, high with a needle still in his fucking arm, and a whore draped over him sucking his dick.”
Kink offered Cain a cigarette, and he took the smoke.
“Besides, I did my research on him while inside, had some connections while locked away, and knew that once I was out I’d have everything I needed to hunt him down and finish what I started nine years ago.”
He wasn’t about to say that the contact he had was Violet. Hell, he had wished she stayed out of it all, but the fact remained that she had refused to back off, refused to listen to him. She was stubborn, that was for sure.
Cain lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply. He looked down at the smoke.
You should quit this shit. It’ll kill you.
Cain took one more hit from the smoke, and then snubbed the butt out on the bottom of his shoe. He had quit years ago, but old habits died hard when this kind of shit was all up in face. “Well, if you boys are ready to get this fucking piece of dirt in the ground, I’m ready to put this shit behind me.”
Cain stared at Lucien, watched as his President walked over to the corpse, unhooked it from the chain it was attached to, and dropped the body to the ground. Kink and Malice walked over and picked Carl off the floor, and then the four of them walked out of the garage and made their way through the woods that lined the back of the clubhouse. It was late, dark as fuck, and the moon barely penetrated the trees above them. Lucien had grabbed a few shovels on his way out, and Kink had grabbed a flashlight. The body was draped over Malice’s shoulder, and Cain led the way, feeling this freedom fill him that he had finally ended this one nightmare for his girls.
They walked for about twenty minutes. Then the shovels were handed out, and they started digging an unmarked grave. He grabbed Carl’s legs, tossed his rapist ass in the hole, and they started filling it with dirt.
“You guys know you’re my family,” Cain said, his focus on the freshly filled grave. He spit on it, feeling disgust. “I have been waiting for this day for a long damn time.” He had also been thinking about all of this, every fucking day, while locked up.
Lucien clapped Cain on the back. “I know, brother, and you’re our family, too.”
“For life,” Kink said out loud.
“And we’d do anything to help you find peace and vengeance, brother,” Malice stated. He moved closer and placed his hand on Cain’s shoulder.
Cain nodded. These men were his family, his brothers in arms, and he’d kill and die for them.
“Anyone fucks with a member’s kid, in any damn way, and we band together and take them out,” Kink said in a deep rumble that held menace and threat.
They stayed there for a few more minutes, no one speaking, and then they all decided to go get piss ass drunk. Cain needed it, because doing what he really wanted to do—going to Violet—was not something he could entertain, not without feeling like a sick bastard.
Chapter Four
Cain sat at the bar at the Brothers of Menace clubhouse nursing a beer. He’d been drinking the same lukewarm Sam Adams for the last hour. The newest member of The Brothers, Pierce, had just been voted in, and he was busy getting trashed and loving up on the club girls hanging around him. Cain had never understood the appeal of sweet-butts in the club. Yeah, it was easy access and loose pussy, but he didn’t like the skankiness of the whole situation. He was probably the only man at the club that didn’t stick his dick into anything that walked. It didn’t have anything to do with the fact he had been locked up for nine years, because even before then he had stayed away from the sluts. He’d been with Beth Wren for a year, and that relationship had created his daughter Fallina. That had been the highlight of being with Beth, because when Fallina was only three he’d gotten a call that Beth had overdosed. To say he had been surprised that she had been hooked on drugs was an understatement. What he had devoted his life to from that moment on, was being a better father to Fallina. Cain hadn’t known about the drug use with Beth, and he had his daughter in that fucked up situation without realizing it, but he would never put her in a situation like that again. Maybe that was why he had never been into the party scene with the club, or the coke the guys did on occasion. Getting drunk was the extent of his partying.
He lifted his beer and thought about the day he had brought his little girl into his home for good. Cain hadn’t been a horrible father, seeing her when time allowed, and he wasn’t busy with the club, but he had also not been Dad of the Year. It was hard handling a daughter full-time when he had only been in her life off and on. The transition had been hard for both of them, but then Fallina had grown attached to him, become his best friend, and he couldn’t think of her
not
in his life. She might be an adult now, but she was still his little girl, and always would be.
“Hey,” a club girl said and came up to sit beside him.
“Not interested, honey,” he said with a bland voice. He wouldn’t be an asshole, but if she was like some of the pussy around her and was adamant on getting him off he’d have to put her ass in her place. He felt her gaze on him, and he looked at her.
“Excuse me? I’m not here offering to spread my legs for you.” She looked tired, had a tray full of beer bottles, and exhaled roughly.
“No? That would be a first with a sweet-butt in the club.”
“I’m not one of those,” she said a little annoyed, and Cain couldn’t help but chuckle.
They didn’t speak for a few seconds, and that was fine with him because he wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
“I heard you were locked up, and just got out?” she asked, and he clenched his jaw. Cain wasn’t all about talking about his personal shit with strangers, least of all women that hung out at the club.
“Not going there with you,” he said, kept his focus straight ahead.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just making small talk.”
He glanced over at her. She sounded sincere, but he didn’t give a shit one way or another. He had just finished killing that piece of shit rapist, had Violet on the mind because he wanted to bring all of this up to her, and talking about his personal business with this random chick was not an area he was going to fucking go.
She exhaled again, and then asked the prospect for a few more beers. The club was popping with activity, celebrating the newest member, and all Cain could think about was being with Violet right now. He had seen Fallina since he had been out, held her and told her things would be okay. She was living her life well, though, and he was so fucking proud of her for that.
But Violet was a whole other ballgame, because he’d avoided her like the damn plague, trying to get his thoughts in order, and his affairs straight. While the prospect was busy filling her drink orders, Cain watched as the girl scrubbed a hand over her light brown hair.
“You sound just as tired as I do,” Cain said, and finished off his beer. He was just in a bad place right now in his life, and he’d snapped at this woman who clearly had taken offense at being called easy pussy. He had to respect the hell out of that.
She looked at him, and her blue eyes were exceptionally bright. “It’s just been one of those days.” She glanced behind her when the guys laughed loudly. “I’m Jana by the way,” she said, but kept her focus on Tuck.
She was young as hell, maybe only twenty-one, but in her eyes she looked older, like she had experienced a rough life. Cain had never understood the appeal of women wanting to become sweet-butts, to just give up their pussy when a club member snapped their fingers. Maybe it was the dominant in him that said fuck that shit, that he’d never submit to a person like that. It wasn’t lost on him that Jana was focused pretty damn hard on Tuck, one of the older, original members. The man with the wicked scar across his jugular had a club girl on his lap, a joint between his lips, and was watching two girls make out. Cain glanced at the woman standing beside him, her face soft, vulnerable, and he wanted to tell her that thinking she’d get involved and become an old lady with Tuck, or any of the brothers, probably wouldn’t happen. Yeah, a few of the men had old ladies now, but the truth was a club girl rarely laid down permanently with a member.
“I don’t sleep with the guys,” she said, and caught him looking at her when she glanced his way. “I’m having a rough patch in my life right now, and my friend Bobbie,” she pointed to one of the club girls speaking to Pierce, “said that I could talk with the president of this club and see about staying here for a while. Lucien said I can stay here, and help pay for my way by cleaning up and cooking on occasion.”
Cain didn’t say anything.
“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here unless I absolutely had no other choice. I just need time to get back on my feet.”
That was news to him, unusual, too, as the club was for the guys to hold up when they needed, not a boarding house for pussy. But that was her business, and he didn’t give a shit about that either. He kept to himself and thought others should as well. But as he stared at this young woman who clearly was eyeing Tuck, he wanted to make something known to her so she didn’t think things would progress in a way that was not normal in this lifestyle.
“If you’re thinking you can tame one of the members, make them see you as more than a woman that brings them drinks, or a hole to put their dick in, you should wake up right now, sweetheart.” He didn’t mean it to sound like he was being an asshole, even though it probably came out that way. She seemed like an honest enough girl, but this was a whole other level where she was concerned.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She turned away and grabbed the beers.
“Listen, I don’t care what you do in your life, but you seem like you may have had a tough run, and I thought you should know that the guys may have old ladies, but they aren’t club pussy.”
She stared at him with a hard eye. “I said I’m not a club pussy, or sweet-butt, or whatever in the hell you call them. I am just a girl trying to get back on her feet.” And then she turned away from him.
Good for her for sticking up for herself, but he was already past the drama, and focused on Violet once more. He shouldn’t go see her, shouldn’t even think about her. But that didn’t stop him from heading out of the club.
Yeah, he was fucked, and knew this couldn’t possibly end well.
He stood, went past the guys getting lap dances and blowjobs, some snorting coke off of the big ass tits of the clubwomen, and headed out of the clubhouse. He didn’t want any of that shit, didn’t even want to be involved in that right now while he had Violet on the mind. Once outside he went over to his bike, grabbed his helmet, and straddled the big piece of machinery. It was dark, the air cool, and a perfect time for a ride. Being locked up and not being able to ride had been hell. Cain lived on his Harley, rode with his brothers, and it was ingrained in him, ran through his veins. Even though he had been out for some time now, riding as often as he could, it didn’t feel like enough. It would never be enough, and he had a lot of fucking time to make up.
He pulled out onto the road, let the freedom of being able to go anywhere he wanted with nothing holding him filling his veins, and knew where he was heading was not where he needed to go. He hadn’t seen Violet in so damn long, years, and although he thought about her every day, made sure she was safe and taken care of, the fact remained that she might not even want to see him anymore. He had pushed her away, and moving on with her life was what he wanted her to do. Going over there might start a whole slew of shit neither of them wanted nor needed. But Cain needed to tell her about taking out Carl, needed her to be able to have peace finally, because even if he knew she was strong and handling things on her own, demons never left. They stayed hidden, and rose up at fucked up times.
He drove to Chatham View, the town where Fallina and Violet both lived. It was a large city, far bigger than River Run. He knew where Violet lived, because even if he made sure she stayed away from the likes of him, he’d kept tabs on her. He couldn’t let her go in that respect. He pulled up to her street, drove down the quiet, small road, and finally stopped and turned his bike off across the street from her house. He took a hit off his smoke, and stared at the small house about an hour outside of River Run. There was movement behind the curtain, and his heart picked up pace. The one woman that had helped him through this entire process, never let up on giving him support, and had been the one to keep him updated on the motherfucker that he’d just buried in the ground, was only a few feet away. Hell, he hadn’t wanted her to be involved at all, but she was a stubborn woman. Finally she had moved on, or at least backed off, and he hadn’t realized how much that had hurt him, knowing that he couldn’t have the kind of relationship he wanted with her.
Violet Wings.
Her name was gentle, whimsical even, but the woman that he’d known for longer than he could even remember, wasn’t just the person that had given him the location of the asshole he’d wasted—even if he was pissed she had kept track of that shit—but the one woman that he shouldn’t want because of who she was.
You shouldn’t be here, just watching her like a fucking stalker, waiting to get a glimpse of her.
He took one more inhale from his cigarette and snubbed it out on the heel of his boot before flicking it aside. Yeah, he should leave, but he couldn’t. Spending nine out of the sixteen years he was sentenced hadn’t taught him anything aside from exacting his vengeance when he got out. His brothers had been there for him the entire time, as was his daughter. But it was Violet that had kept writing him despite the fact he told her to forget about him, to move on with her life, and put all of this shit behind her.
He’d never told anyone that Violet had been hurt by that asshole. He hadn’t told his club, and not even his daughter. Violet had told him in confidence, kept that shit inside of her for years after the fact, and he had taken pleasure in ending that bastard’s life for his little girl and for the woman that he had grown to care about more than he should.
Getting off of his bike, walking toward her front door, and knowing he shouldn’t be doing this couldn’t have stopped him. He’d only seen her once, years after they had started talking on the phone and in letters, and that was when she had come to the prison. That had been the only time because he had told her not to come back, that the shithole he was living in for all those years was not a place he wanted her to be. And she’d listened, thank fuck, because the men that lived in the prison were not good. Cain wasn’t good, never was, and would resort to things to make his point known, or to protect what was his. He was dangerous, violent, and that was just who he was, who he would always be.
He found himself standing in front of her house, his hand curled into a fist to knock on the scarred wood. He brought his knuckles down on the door, and there was the woman that haunted his thoughts for far too many years.