Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils Book 2) (26 page)

He’s too close. I can smell his aftershave, his cologne, his detergent. It’s too much. Too painful and too debilitating. A whimper escapes me, but my eyes are locked in on his cold, dead blue ones.

“You could have been such a good wife, Brentlee. Why couldn’t you just accept everything? I gave you a nice place to live, the finest clothes, and a child to keep you entertained during the day. I gave you
everything
, but you took it all for granted. You’re such a selfish, little bitch. And now you’re nothing but a slut. I should have whored you out all those years. I had men asking after you, you know?” he announces.

I press my lips together, trying to keep from crying out, sobbing, and showing any true emotion. He feeds off of my reactions.

“Speak,” he shouts in my face. I blink, keeping my cool, trying not to freak out.

“What would you like me to say?” I ask quietly.

I don’t realize what’s happened before I feel the pain radiating off of my cheek. With one hand tangled in my hair, the other makes a fist and he punches my cheek.

“Suck my cock like the whore you are,” he demands as he pushes me down to my knees. I reluctantly have no choice but to land on the concrete floor. My bare knees connecting hard with the dirty, ground.

“No,” I say. He doesn’t own me anymore. Bates does. I’m a whore for no man. I’m Bates’ woman, his
tigritsa
. I am no longer Scotty’s punching bag.

“You don’t suck me off, Brentlee, I’ll kill you and then I’ll kill that little fucking brat you pushed out of your dry as fuck pussy,” he grinds out.

I close my eyes and think of Stella. He’d do it, too. The sick fuck would kill his own daughter. He had no qualms beating the shit out of me until I lost our first baby.

“The only dick that comes near me is Bates’. I’m not your whore, Scotty,” I say, staying firm, standing my ground—on my knees.

His arm comes out and he backhands me. I can feel blood trickling from my lip. The whole left side of my face aches, but I don’t care. He’s not going to torture me, not without me giving him a fucking fight.

“I should mutilate you. He wouldn’t want you if you were hideous. Nobody would,” he laughs. It comes off as maniacal and completely creepy. How I ever fell for him, how I ever
married
him, is beyond me. Looking at him now, all I see is a disturbed and disgusting individual.

I hear something behind him, but the music is so loud I’m not sure what it is. I don’t want to alert him in case it’s nothing. I can only pray that somebody has found us.

“Do it,” I challenge.

Fuck him
.

Scotty opens his mouth to surely spew more shit, but there’s a loud sound. I cover my mouth with my hands, finding my face completely covered in blood. Scotty’s blood, and brains, and everything that goes along with it.

When his body falls to the ground, I look past him and see Bates standing stoically. His eyes are transfixed on Scotty’s lifeless body. I let out a sound that’s only described as a mix between a cry, a sob, and a shout. Bates’ eyes leave Scotty and come to me. I’m sure I look scary, covered in blood and brain, bruises forming on my cheek.

“
Tigritsa
,” he says. It sounds animalistic, guttural.

“Bates,” I whisper.

He doesn’t come for me. He doesn’t console me or pick me up and tell me everything is going to be
okay
. Instead, he turns from me. He leaves. He walks away, leaving me on my knees surrounded by my husband’s blood.

Immediately, tears fill my eyes—not because Scotty has died, but because Bates has left me. I’m under no illusion that he needs a moment to collect his thoughts. No, I saw the light dim; the horrors return in his eyes. He’s gone.

“Come on, babe,” Paxton says, crouching down next to me. I watch as a Prospect and Johnny drag my husband out of the dirty bathroom. I look up to Paxton with tears in my eyes.

“He’s gone,” I whisper.

“Yeah, babe, and he ain’t never comin’ back,” he grunts.

“No, not Scotty.
Bates
,” I mutter.

“He’ll come around,” he says. The look on his face is telling me what I already know.

Bates is
gone
.
Done
.
Out
.

I let Paxton guide me toward the bedroom’s when Fury stops in front of us.

“Take my room, it has a bathroom attached, you can clean up there,” he mutters, handing Paxton the key.

I turn around to thank him and see Bates leaning against the wall, a joint in his hand and his eyes focused on me. They aren’t dead, heated, or full of horror, no he looks—
bored
. I turn back around, unable to look at him another second.

How did this happen?

Why
did this happen?

Haven’t I suffered enough?

I finally find my happiness and now it’s all fucked up. All fucked up because of Scotty, because Bates had to kill for me. I hate that it happened, and I wish he would talk to me, hold me, assure me that everything is going to be okay, instead of staring at me with that bored expression on his face.

Paxton locks us inside of Fury’s room and I’m glad for it. I don’t want to be around anybody, but I need this fucking blood off of me—
now
.

“Will you, can you…” I begin.

Thankfully, he understands and nods. I stand against the locked door as he checks out the bathroom.

“All clear,” he says softly.

I nod once and make my way toward the bathroom. Once I step past him, he takes the door handle and starts to close it. I put my hand up, stopping his movement.

“Please, leave it open. I just can’t. Can you stay in here? I don’t care if you see me, I just can’t be alone,” I murmur.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, Brentlee,” he whispers. I have a feeling he means more than just helping me right now. I don’t care, though. Right now, I can’t think.

I quickly strip out of my bloodied clothes and completely disrobe. I look in the mirror, but avoid my face. Instead, my eyes focus on the reflection of my
Bates
tattoo. My fingers trace his name when I hear Pax clear his throat.

“He’ll get his head outta his ass, babe,” he states.

“I don’t think he will,” I murmur. “Not unless I fight for him.”

Paxton doesn’t say another word as I step into the hot stream of water that he started for me. I use Fury’s soap and what appears to be Kentlee’s fruity shampoo. I let the clean smell envelope me. I close my eyes and wash away the blood and the hurt from my marriage with Scotty.

After this shower, I never want to think of him again. I’ll tell Stella about him when she’s old enough. For now, she knows enough, more than enough. I want to move on with my life. I want my daughter to live in a world where she isn’t afraid of anything—ever.

“Babe,” Paxton’s voice floats through the shower.

“Yeah,” I call out.

“I need to get you home,” he murmurs. I turn the shower off and he thrusts a towel through the curtain. I dry off and wrap it around myself.

“I need something to wear,” I say, standing in front of him, fresh faced and wrapped in a towel. I feel better. At least my body does. My mind, however, is a completely different story. I’m a jumbled up mess.

“Come on, I’ll take you to my room, get you some clothes,” he murmurs. I bend down to grab my bloodied clothes and he presses his hand against my back. I look up into his coffee colored eyes and he shakes his head.

“I’ll take care of all that later tonight. Let me get you outta here, babe,” he says, his voice soft, sweet, and even. I nod and allow him to guide me toward his room, his hand on the small of my back.

When we arrive at Paxton’s room, I look up and tears immediately well in my eyes. Standing with his back against the wall is Bates. His dazed eyes are on me, completely focused on me. When I trail the length of his body, there’s Star.

On her knees, sucking his cock.

My stomach turns at the sight. He’s
mine
. His
dick
is mine. I look back up to him and my eyes connect with his. A smirk tugs on his lips, but his eyes, they’re still dazed and bored. I don’t see his fire. I don’t see anything of the Bates I know and love. It makes my heart ache. It pisses me off.

What a fucking asshole.

Sniper

I
wrap my hand in Star’s hair and pull her off of my dick. She looks up at me with wide eyes, hopeful eyes, and it makes me sick. I release her and slide away from the wall, tucking my semi-hard cock in my pants. I’m surprised it’s even a semi. I’m not in the least bit turned on.

“Sniper,” Star whines from her place on her knees.

“Get the fuck outta here,” I grunt.

Star opens her mouth to say something else, but I can’t muster a fuck to give. I turn and walk away from her, straight to my room. I slam and lock the door behind me before I walk over to the bed. I sink down and reach between my legs for a bottle of Jack. I say a silent thanks when I find a completely brand-new, unopened bottle.

I open it and take a long drink of the amber liquor. I’m such a fucking
fuck-up
. I lean against the headboard and I continue to drink.

One pull after the other.

I close my eyes and think back to earlier tonight. I was so fuckin’ excited to see my woman, my Brentlee. A week being away from her was excruciating. I didn’t want to ever do it again. I missed her, not just her pussy, but
her
. I missed her smell, the way she smiled up at me, the way she looked at me.

I walked into the clubhouse and asked the prospect behind the bar where she was. When he told me the bathroom, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get my dick wet before she went back to work. When I tried the handle and the door was locked, I knew something was wrong. Hearing a man’s voice on the other side sent a shiver down my spine. I pulled my gun out of my shoulder holster and kicked the flimsy as fuck door down.

He had her on her knees
. Scotty had my woman on her knees for him.
I pulled the trigger. One shot was all I needed, and I took it. I added another soul to the notch on my belt in hell.
I killed another human
. I didn’t want to think about what that made my number. The devil is keeping a tally; I don’t need to.

The look of shock on her face, I’ll never forget it.
I ruined her
. I sullied her. I killed in front of her.

Brentlee was covered in blood because of
me
.

I’m not good for her.

I’m not good for her daughter.

I’ll keep making her dirty.

I’ll continue to ruin her.

I ruin everything.

There’s no way around it, she’s seen a portion of the evil I can inflict on another person without batting an eyelash. No way in fuck is she going to want me anywhere near her or her innocent child. I’m the piece of shit my dad always said I was, useless and fucking dumb.

I close my eyes and all I can see is her face covered in another person’s blood, as a result of me. I’m not sad I killed Scotty. I should have done it earlier. I’m pissed at myself for doing it in front of her. For giving her more brutality in her life. She should be living easy now, I should be making her shit easy, not fucking her up even more.

I wake the next morning and take a sip from the Jack, swishing it around my mouth before I spit it out on the floor. No reason to keep my room clean. I could live in my own filth, because that’s what I am—filthy.

I look off into the empty space and think back to the night before. Brentlee is gone. I made sure she wouldn’t come back and fight for me, too. I would give in to her pretty honey colored eyes in a heartbeat.

I spend the day in solitary.
Alone
. Drinking. I don’t want to see another person. I don’t want to see the look of pity in their eyes, and I don’t want to give in to my own temptations and go to Brentlee. I need to be alone.

Brentlee

I wake up, my eyes swollen, my head hurting like hell. I roll over and crash into a hard body. For a split second, I think it’s Bates, that he’s come home, but when my hand flies to his chest I discover it’s covered in a shirt. Bates doesn’t sleep next to me with clothes on. I open my eyes and see Paxton Hill looking down on me.