The remark gets a round of laughter since it’s a fact Sheriff Warren is a fall-down drunk. Wraith swears it’s because of us. He’s not wrong. Not the Unholy collectively, but my friends directly. Him, Malice, Havoc, and me. Warren was perfectly fine when he first took up the badge. By the time the four of us hit sixteen and were raising hell, he developed a tic and a drinking problem. He’s awake (sort of) and alert-ish on the weekends because it’s required. On a weeknight? Not so much. Having to clean up a dead body tonight would put him in a foul mood, and I sure as hell don’t want to deal with his crap on top of everything else going on right now.
“Nah. This dude is just going to buy his dentist a new BMW. Nothing major.” At Mike’s whimper, I give him a little jostle. “Aw, don’t worry, little guy. I promise to hit you so hard your face will go numb after the second punch.”
Then we’re out the door, with Mayhem’s humid mountain air a wet blanket after being in Talon for most of the night. Neon bathes Main Street in a blinding pastel glow, the bright signs an enticement that ignite the red-light district’s bars, strip clubs, and brothels. As I drag a kicking and squirming Mike around to the alley, I cut through a group of tourists loitering on the sidewalk.
When they take an interest in us, I shoot them a glare that kills their curiosity. “Mind your fucking business.”
They wisely hang back. Connor, however, is trailing us. Still trying to convince me not to beat the snot out of his friend. Even if I had a mind not to, I’m invested now. Made it all the way outside. Not that I’d give Mike a pass. I’m honor-bound to see this through. If I didn’t, it would show people that anyone can come here, run their mouth, and walk away intact.
It would cause anarchy.
Not to mention, Crow, the Unholy’s current president, would rip off my balls if he found out I let this douche bounce without a scratch.
I’m rather fond of my balls being attached to my body, thank you very much.
See? I sorta gotta realign Mike’s jaw, even if it’s not exactly how I would personally choose to handle the situation. Which, in case anyone is wondering, I would, because I’m not a nice guy. I just happen to have a sense of humor, unlike my friends who take everything way too seriously.
When we round the building, we’re sandwiched between Talon and Pandora’s Box. Some hip-hop song pumps from the strip club, and when I release Mike with a shove, he stumbles backward over his own feet and slams into the pink-painted brick of that neighboring building.
“You have no idea who my father is.”
I roll my eyes. “Like I give a flaming shit.”
“You should.”
“And yet I don’t.” I step toward him.
The coward throws up his hands again. “Please don’t hurt me.”
I can’t help but snort at his pathetic display. “Begging? Really? This isn’t the movieHostel, Mike. It’s not like I’m going to put on a rubber apron and start filleting you. You’re going to get your ass beat. At least have some fucking dignity about it.”
He’s nodding along now with such vigor, I’m afraid he’s going to snap his cervical spine and his skull is going to roll down the alley like a bowling ball. But whatever. Connor, the dickwad, grabs my arm. I yank out of his hold and snag him by the neck. My hand is a vise clamped with enough force to cut off his airway.
“You have a question, my dude?”
“No question,” he chokes out.
I open my fingers, and he backs away, shuffling over the concrete. Out of striking range. “Awesome. So.” I clap my hands. “This is how it’s going to work. I’m going to punch you in the face real hard, like I promised. Iwillbust your jaw. What lesson will be learned tonight, Mike?”
Mike flattens himself against the pink brick as if he’s trying to make himself one with Pandora’s Box. “Not to insult the Unholy.”
I reward his correct answer with a huge grin. “Not to come to Mayhem and talk shit about the men who own the town.” I take a step toward him. “Men who are bigger than you.” Another step closer. “Stronger.” Closer. “Meaner.” Since I got at least five inches on him, I’m literally towering over him. “Men who have no problem making someone like you disappear.”
I grab a fistful of his red Polo shirt and ball my other hand into a fist. Mike cringes as I draw back my arm. Connor yells something from somewhere behind me, but he’s nothing more than an annoying buzz. My right fist flies, landing with a satisfying crack to Mike’s left cheek. There’s nothing sweeter than when knuckles meet face. Okay, yeah, there are plenty of nicer things. Like vagina. Ilovevagina. And pizza when the crust is perfectly crunchy. And my yellow Jeep Wrangler. It’s my baby. Okay, landing a solid punch to someone’s smug-ass face isn’t the best thing in the world, but it’s up there in the top five. Especially when the smug-ass face belongs to a lippy dudebro from Brighton.
Blood sprays from Mike’s mouth, and he’s stunned for a second before he gives it a good go to get me to stop hitting him. I’m proud of his efforts and release him to give him a round of applause.
“Look at you, fighting back. Good for you. Tell you what.” I drop my hands. “I’ll let you get in one solid shot. Will that make you feel better? Boost your ego?”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
I turn to Connor. “I’m impressed. Your friend isn’t a total douche.”
“You really are a dick,” Connor snaps.
“Yeah, no shit,” I agree with a laugh. “But my friends are nastier. You’re lucky it was me here tonight and not one of them.” Then I turn to Mike. “Go on. Take the offer, because you won’t get a second chance.”
Awesome that there’s no need to goad Mike twice. The dude’s fist slams into my cheek with enough power to shock the shit out of me.Nice. I like a little fire in my opponent. Makes things interesting. No fun beating on a ragdoll. Gotta have some pep in the step to keep things lively, and Mike sure is doing his best to make it fun. Catches me good a couple of times. Might even leave a bruise. But enough with the bullshit. It’s getting late. I have two girls to fuck. Well, probably one. I doubt Samantha wants anything to do with me.
