And Mike has a hellish night ahead of him in Wayne County Community Hospital.
With my long reach and powerful strike, the righteous hit sends him off his feet. He falls on his ass with a grunt. I stalk toward him as he back crawls away. Connor snatches my arm again, but I shake him off with a growl.
I spin and nail him with a glare, holding up two fingers. “That’s twice.”
One punch is all it takes to put Connor to sleep. He crumbles, his body taking most of the damage when he hits the pavement. Mr. Good Advice should have minded his business. This here is between Mike and me, and yeah, I get it. Connor is being noble by defending his friend. Nothing the Unholy wouldn’t do. But there is a time and a place for everything.
This isn’t Connor’s time, and it certainly isn’t the place.
Back to Mike, who’s dazed and tearing up like a bitch. “Almost done. Just gonna hit you a few more times. The last shot will crack that jaw. When I’m done, I’ll wake your friend, and he’ll take you to the hospital. Then you’ll go home with a reminder of what happens when you run your fucking mouth about my friends. We clear, Mike?”
Mike sits on his ass, staring at me, like a deer caught in headlights.
I blow out a frustrated sigh. “Are we clear, Mike?”
He nods. “We’re clear.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” I clamp my hands around his upper arms and hoist him off the ground.
Once he’s on his feet, I release him and take a step back. His gaze goes to my tattooed forearms. The skulls on my right arm are meaningless. I thought the sleeve would look badass when I was eighteen. The Mayhem Forever on my left? That shit is all kinds of special. Every Unholy has the same wording somewhere on their body. It marks us as a member of the gang, same as the lettering on our chest.
I take Mike’s measure and say, “This is going to hurt you more than it’ll hurt me.”
I hit this poor bastard so hard, I swear to God, I yeet his soul clean out of his body. But not enough to do serious damage. Not, like, if I was on a job. This here is to teach a lesson, not to destroy his whole life. My fists collide with only enough force to leave a lasting impression without breaking unnecessary bones. Until the final blow. This is the one that counts. A direct hit to his jaw. It sends Mike rocketing backward and ricocheting off Talon’s painted black bricks. It drops him back on his ass. He lands in a sobbing, bleeding heap on the concrete.
Mike’s jaw juts at a bad angle. His face is swollen and bruised. Blood and spit and snot run down his chin. Tears wet his cheeks. His Polo shirt and jeans are, unfortunately, trashed. I’m sure he’s got daddy’s Amex Black Card tucked away in his wallet, so he’s covered.
He flinches when I stroll over to him. “All done, little buddy.” I can’t be sure, but I think he tries to mumble something that sounds a lot likefuck you. Might beI’m sorry. Can’t be sure. I cross the alley to where Connor is still a crumbled, slumbering lump. “Dude.” I give him a hard shake. “You need to take your friend to the hospital.”
Connor doesn’t pop right up. It takes a few tries to rouse him, and once I do, he’s disoriented. When his brain finally clears, he’s all sorts of ornery. Like I give a shit. I was the one having a perfectly fine time before they came to Talon and changed the trajectory of my night. I should be the one who’s pissed. I’m not, of course, because I got to hit two people, and that’s always fun.
I’m also guaranteed at least a blowjob from Annabelle.
Yay, me.
“Come on.” I grab Connor under his arms and heft his heavy ass off the pavement. “Your friend needs you.”
Connor’s eyes go wide when he gets a look at Mike. He stumbles away and shakes his head. “The fuck, man?”
“What, that?” I wave my hands like it’s no big deal. “It’s just a busted jaw.”
“I’m calling the cops.”
“Bad idea, my dude.” I grab Connor’s wrist to stop him from fishing his phone from his pocket. “One, the sheriff won’t come out here over something as simple as me teaching this dumbass a lesson.” I yank him in real close and put his face an inch from mine. “And two, if I did that to Mike for talking shit, imagine what I’ll do to a snitch.”
Yeah, I’m squeezing Connor’s wrist to within a fraction of it snapping.
That’s the point.
Connor’s eyes are wide and full of horror. “No. No cops. Just let me get my friends and we’ll leave.”
“Friend. Singular,” I clarify. “The girls stay. If they want, of course. I’ll make sure they get home.” I use my index and middle fingers of my right hand to cross my heart. “Promise.”
As I’ve proved, I’m a man of my word.
Connorveryreluctantly agrees. Not in so many words. He gives me a manly grunt before collecting his whimpering friend. And oh my God does Mike take for-fucking-ever to hobble out of the alley. True, he’s hurt, but damn. I broke his jaw, not his legs. He can walk a little faster. Samantha leaves with them, giving me enough dirty looks to make sure I’m aware she thinks I’m a shitbag.
Pardon me while I don’t give one single damn about her opinion.
