"Where the fuck is my money, Vi?"
"Please, Liam, I didn't do anything, I swear-"
His hand shoots out, and thick fingers wrap around Vi's throat, cutting off her air. She only manages a shocked gurgle.
"The money, Vi. I'm gonna ask one more time, and then I'm gonna start breaking things. You whores don't get to pull any fast ones over on us." He releases his hold on her just enough to allow her to choke in air.
"Stop, Spade," Kylie calls. "You can't get in the middle of this."
I turn half-toward her, shooting an accusatory glare at the busty brunette. "Like hell, I can't! Why aren't you doing something? She's one of yours."
When Kylie says nothing, I snort in disgust. Malick lunges for my arm too late and misses by inches as I launch myself into the alleyway and at the thug towering over the terrified prostitute.
I knock his arm away from her throat with a well-placed strike, and he jumps back, clutching it to his chest in shock. I don't hear a crack, so I don't think I broke it. But he seems upset about it all the same.
"I'm giving you one chance to back the hell off, buddy."
Liam rakes his eyes over me, a sneer curling his lips. "You're not in charge here, Spade. You think I'm just going to take orders from you because you're fucking my boss? You're the flavor of the month. Once that pussy is all used up he's going to toss you out on your ass and-"
He's forced to swallow the tail end of that sentence along with a fair portion of my knuckles. They split all over again, and this time they feel worse because I'm sure one of his eyeteeth gouged a furrow on the back of my palm.
He rocks back on his heels, dazed by the hit. I throw my shoulder into his gut and knock him off balance. He's forced to the opposite wall of the alley, onto the dingy siding of a defunct furniture shop. His head makes a satisfying thwack when it hits the wall, and I bury another fist into his gut, doubling him over. My knee comes up, knocking into the family jewels with enough force to make him emit a girlish squeal.
I don't stop hitting him once I've started. It feels too good to drive my fists into him repeatedly. All the pent up rage, the feeling of helplessness falls away when I take some of my own back from this pathetic excuse for a man. Tears haze my eyes at some point because it's a stark reminder this isn't some fantasy where the brute gets reformed by a good woman. This man peddles death and misery for profit, and he doesn't give a shit. The only reason I'm not another victim is that my father and brothers would never have allowed it. Rule number one. We protect our women. Rule number two. Call a Spade a Spade. Tell it like it is.
And I've just gotten a fresh slap in the face as to how monstrous Calamity Gardel is.
At some point, Malick wrenches me away from the piece of shit lying on the ground, saving him from another kick. When my vision finally clears, I see that he's crouched and bleeding, holding himself in a fetal position to minimize the impact of my blows.
I turn away from him with a huff of disgust and march back toward the clubhouse without being directed. They want to drag me in front of Gardel? Fine. That's exactly where I want to be. I want to call him out to his face, see if there's even a shred of humanity left in the bear-like man.
I'm shouting before I even reach the front doors. Blood beats a tattoo into my temples, and I feel like my head might explode at any second from the effort of trying to contain my fury. I find him in the room, conversing with one of the men I saw earlier. The dealer selling to the kid.
"We need to talk, asshole," I hiss.
Calamity's face darkens, and his voice comes out low and dangerous. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"
"I said we're about to talk, asshole. No, I'll talk, you listen."
"Tread carefully," he says in an eerily level voice. If I weren't seeing red at the moment, it might scare me. "One more word out of you and you'll regret it."
"You're going to do what?" I mock. "Paddle me? Cause you're sure as fuck not going to kill me. I'm still bait, remember?"
His face is etched with angry lines, as though they're being drawn right onto all that pale skin as I watch. His hands twitch at his sides, and that's all the warning I get before he's stalking toward me. I'm not quick enough to escape the hand that lashes out, seizing my bicep in a bruising grip. He almost yanks my arm out of my socket as he drags me across the foyer to his room. I'm still spouting obscenities at the top of my lungs, but my rage goes from boiling to a light simmer as the reality dawns on me.
The frame rattles when Calamity slams the door behind us. He rounds on me, blue eyes like lightning, almost painful in their intensity as they spear me.
"What the fuck has gotten into you?"
"One of your pimps just tried to kill a girl. Thought you should know before Malick rats me out for beating him within an inch of his life."
Calamity's expression barely flickers. "Some of the girls keep back more than their share."
"You don't get to play god," I spit. "No wonder you're alone. You're a miserable washed-up old misogynist who shoves women around because he's compensating. No wonder your wife and daughter left you. They were ashamed of you. And they should be because you're pathetic!"
My back hits the door with bruising force, and Calamity's hand shoves into my hair, yanking it to the point of pain. His teeth tug my bottom lip, biting it.The skater dress hikes up around my waist as he slides me up, and I have no choice but to wrap my legs around him or hang like a limp rag doll in his grip. The clink of his belt is the only warning I get.
And then he's inside of me.
