Cash (The Henchmen MC Book 2) (23 page)

At that, I couldn't choke back the laughter. I should have; I should have found a way to keep it to myself, to not ask for any beatings, but I just... couldn't. “Oh, I can come, Damian. Just not with that pathetic machine-gun fucking you were always so fond o...”

I didn't get the rest out, mainly because his hands were at my throat and pressing, hard. Not hard enough for the air supply to get completely cut off. No, he was good, It was just hard enough to hurt like a mother fucker and be scary as hell.

“Maybe you just need a refresher,” he threatened, his hand moving from my throat to press hard between my legs. Every bit of me was screaming out
no
at the contact and before his fingers could crook and rake over me again, I cocked back my legs and slammed them forward with everything in me. Caught off guard, he flew off the end of the bed, giving me enough time to get my feet.

“Not a fucking chance,” I shrieked, falling full-force downward, my knee stabbing into his stomach and making all his air whoosh out of him. My hands moved to his throat and closed around it. Just like him, I was good. But unlike him, I wanted him to pass out so I pressed and I pressed hard, pushing into the carotid artery. Eight to ten seconds, that was all it took for unconscious to take over. Once he was out, I had maybe two minutes to find a way to kill him.

The easiest way would be to continue to cut off his air supply. For that, I needed three minutes of no air getting into his body. Three minutes and he would be gone. But that being said, there was always the chance of him gaining consciousness and fighting back.

There were no sharp objects around. There was nothing to stab him with. But there was the pot and pan in the kitchen. It would take forever and drain me, but I could bash his head in. He would be unconscious from one good blow to the side of the head, just beneath the ear. He wouldn't regain consciousness.

Six. Seven. Ei...

The side of his hand slammed forward into my throat, making me choke hard and drop my hands.

Fuck.

There went my advantage.

I was thrown off of him, pinned under his weight. There was a split second before I felt his fist in my face. Familiar, god the sensation was so fucking familiar it made me sick. I tasted blood in my mouth and, with what was probably not a smart amount of anger, spat it in his face.

His hands went up to wipe his face, giving me the chance to drag my legs up from behind him, cursing at the weight of the chain, and cross them over his throat, pushing him backward with the strength in my thighs. The chain pushed into his throat as he twisted to the side, wrangling away. He hit the floor and my leg kicked out, my foot colliding with the side of his face. His grunt of pain was like the voice of God to my ears. Especially because I knew I had gotten a few good shots in, but that he was going to overpower me. I was going to get my ass kicked again.

“Stupid bitch,” he said, sitting back on his heels and wiping the blood off his lip. “I know what kind of lesson I need to teach you,” he said and his hands moved downward.

When I saw what they were seeking, I felt a sweat break out over my whole body. His belt. He was going for his fucking belt. I had taken a lot of beatings during my time with him. I'd felt his bare hand on my ass. I'd felt his fist in every soft place in my body. I'd felt his feet stabbing into my stomach and ribs. But nothing, literally nothing ever hurt as bad as that belt on my skin.

“Just like that first time,” he smirked, pushing the hook free from the hole and slowly pulling the leather from the loops. It was then that I noticed it
was
going to be just like that first time... because it was the same fucking belt.

For the first five strikes, I had the protection of my shirt. Damian, frustrated by the fact I wasn't shrieking in absolute agony, dropped the belt long enough to grab my shirt and tear it off, leaving the skin of my back bare save for the band of my bra.

Then, well, there was screaming.

I didn't want to. It hurt somewhere deep in my soul to do it, but the pain was unlike anything else life had to offer, somehow feeling both blunt and sharp and burning all at once. I fought, don't get me wrong. I twisted, turned, scrambled away. But I could only get so far so fast with the shackle at my ankle. And each time he caught up to me, the lashes got more vicious until the tears were streaming down my face as the skin at my back finally broke open and the lashes didn't stop.

My throat hurt, raw from crying out and I collapsed forward on the floor, unable to draw up any energy to fight anymore. I was done. Done done done. I just wanted it to end. I wanted to go back in time and drag that knife up my forearms. I wanted everything to...

My thoughts trailed off when I heard the belt drop down beside my body, followed by the sound of his fly being pulled down. Yep, just like the first time. The only difference being this time... I couldn't delude myself into thinking what was about to follow wasn't rape.

I closed my eyes tight against that idea, trying to will my arms to push me up, but they stayed limp at my sides as I saw the belt get picked up again a moment before it slipped around my neck as a noose and tightened. He held it one-handed, the other going to the back of my pants and slipping into the waistband, trying to drag them down.

I didn't hear the door slamming open.

I didn't even hear the boots on the steps.

But I did hear something.

I heard the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life. I heard Cash's voice.

It was then that I realized I had fallen asleep.

Because only in my dreams did Cash come rushing in to save me.

So I closed my eyes and smiled, sinking into the dream.

Twenty-two

Cash

There are moments in your life that, when they happen, you know they are going to be burned into your memory, that will always come back to you in bright, flawless, technicolor perfection.

Throwing the storage shelf out of the way and finding a door behind, having to wait for Malcolm to use some kind of device to break open the code thing, then charging down those steps and seeing what I saw... mother fucking
burned
into my mind.

Forget that the basement had been changed into some freaky apartment that I had a sneaking suspicion must have had some kind of significance to Lo's old life. I barely even fucking took that shit in. Because right there in the center of the floor with a god damn slave chain around her ankle, was a face-down Lo, her entire back torn open with gashes, her blood seeping down to her sides and puddling on the floor beside her. A belt was wrapped around her throat and was being pulled mercilessly as Damian fucking Crane, pants down and hard dick out, tried to pull down Lo's pants.

That was a sight I never wanted to fucking see.

And now I would never be free from it.

“Lo,” I heard myself call, but it was a strange, raw, crackling sound.

I didn't even think of the god damn gun nestled in the small of my back. I didn't take heed to the half dozen Hailstorm men and women coming down the stairs behind me. Because, quite fuckin' frankly, this fight was between me and the mother fucker who dared put his hands on what was
mine.

“This is gonna' be fun,” I growled as Damian tried to wrestle his cock back into his pants and got to his feet.

I got one second to notice that Lo had closed her eyes with an odd, sweet smile on her face before I charged at Damian. Malcolm and the rest of them would get her up and out of there. They would start to do something about the wounds on her back. They would do a much better job at that than I could. And I, well, I was going to do the better job at making Damian Crane pay for ever even thinking about putting his hands on her.

I took him down with a running crouch to his center, his yell suggesting Lo had already gotten a good hit or kick to his ribs. I felt a swell of pride at that- my girl was a fighter, as I pounded my fist into the bastard's face, enjoying the spurt of blood out of his nose.

Behind me, I could hear Malcolm giving out orders and the hair-raising sound of Lo's shriek as they, presumably, moved her.

Damian bucked and I was flying to my side, landing with a grunt.

Something clattered to the ground next to me and Malcolm's voice called. “We need to get her back to Hailstorm. She's losing a lot of blood.”

But I wasn't paying much attention because I finally realized what had flown down next to be: the asshole's belt. I felt a sick smile pull at my lips as I grabbed for it and got my feet, turning back to see Damian closing in on me.

Oh, yeah. Talk about justice.

I was gonna see how much
he
liked getting a strap taken to him.

“Shoulda' kept your hands off what belongs to me,” I said, swinging back, then snapping the belt forward, the blow landing in the center of his chest, giving me a grunt.

“She's
mine.
” And, well, that was just the wrong damn thing to say.

I cocked my arm back again, then swung forward, this time aiming a helluva lot higher. His whole body jerked back as the belt smacked across the side of his face. His hand went instinctively up to cover the raising welt and I took that opportunity to nail the back of his hand too- his guttural howl sending off a shock of pleasure through my system.

I wasn't that guy. I didn't have that dark of a soul. I didn't get off on pain. But, hell, I was half hard listening to this fuck getting what was coming to him. For Lo. For the years of damage he had caused her. For the shields she felt she had to wear around herself because of him. For the fear such a strong, formidable woman like Lo was forced to live through every day of her life.

His face half swollen, Damian lunged, taking us both down, making me land beneath his weight with a hiss on the hard floor. Right hand lamed by the belt strike, he raised his left and got a half-force punch to the side of my face before I knifed up, throwing him down and taking my feet.

I cocked back the belt and swung one last time. My aim was off by the barest of inches and the lash took him across the eye, making a cry that was only half-human escape him as a swirling feeling started in my stomach.

Enough. That was fucking enough.

I flew across the floor as he cradled his face and grabbed the chain that had been around Lo's ankle and dragging the heavy as all fuck thing across the floor, clamping it around Damian's ankle before he could even stop howling enough to try to stop me.

“Let's see how much you like being held against your will, you sick fuck,” I said, taking off toward the stairs, my heart pounding hard in my chest. Anger drained, all I felt was the kind of worry that settled in your belly and felt like it hollowed you out inside.

“He dead?” the only leftover Hailstorm guy asked as I got to the top landing, left there, I imagined, in case Damian got away from me because this guy was a mammoth of a man... he looked like he'd give Wolf a run for his money.

“No. But I bet he wishes he was. Can you lock this thing back up?” I asked, gesturing toward the door as Damian's swears of vengeance drifted up the stairs.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling something out of his pocket. “Changing the code though,” he said, pressing away as he kicked the door closed. “So you're keeping him down there?” he asked, turning back to me, pinning me with his freakishly blue eyes.

“Figured Lo might want a shot at him once she's up and moving again,” I shrugged, knowing she would. Once the pain and embarrassment faded, she would be spittin' mad. And she would want him to pay for ever making her feel weak again. There was no way I was going to deny her that. “She okay?” I asked, not bothering to hide the rawness in my voice.

“She's gonna be hurting for a while. Her back was completely cut open. Has some marks on her face and her ribs looked like they got worked over again. But she'll be alright. They know what they're doing.”

With all the shit they got themselves into, all the damage that must have been done to their crew, I imagined that was true.

“I need to see her.”

The guy nodded, jerking his head toward the front of the store. “Let's go.”

With that, he took off in his Jeep and I took off on my bike, both of us pushing twenty over the speed limit until we finally pulled up to the gates which swung open.

“Where is she?” I demanded from the first person I saw, grabbing the front of his shirt when all he did was raise a brow at me and look over my shoulder at the guy I pulled in with. “Listen, mother fucker... I'm not in the mood for your gam...”

“Yo,” the guy behind me said, clamping a hand on my shoulder. “I'll take you. Relax.”

“Maybe you should get him calmed down first, Leo. He can't be charging into the sick room balls out mad...”

“Try to stop me, I dare you. I just fucking blinded the last man who stood between me and Lo. You really want to do this?” I asked, shoving his chest, stepping back with drawn-in brows when all he did was laugh.