Hot tears blurred the asphalt as I shot past the edge of town and took the turning that would lead me to peace and safety, but I blinked them back furiously, determined to hold it together as my daddy’s voice filled my head, reminding me of something he’d instilled in me since I was a girl.
If you want to survive in this world, daughter, you have to learn how to take the hits and, most of all, you never ever let the bastards see you bleed.
CHAPTER 8
PAGAN
Iducked right to avoid Rodeo’s fist as it came flying toward my jaw.
“You’re a slippery fucker,” Bootneck yelled up at the ring. “It’s like watchin’ Teflon. Nothin’ sticks.”
It was easy for that prick to play it down, but he knew better than anyone that my fitness was top-notch. I ran six miles a day for cardio and then did an hour in the gym for strength and weight training. I was strong because I was fit, not because I was lucky. That thick-assed fuck wouldn’t know it, though, seeing as he spent most of his time in the bar.
I’d been fighting on the streets since I was eight years old, and I learned pretty fast that the best way to avoid getting beaten was to make them miss. If I could outlast my opponent, I’d win.
The very first fight I had, I got my ass handed to me, and the next, and the one after that, so I befriended one of the older boys in the neighborhood, started doing him some favors, and we became buds. He taught me how to punch, kick, and fight dirty.
Didn’t get beaten much after that.
A meaty fist came hurtling toward me, and I swerved it just in time.
“Motherfucker,” Rodeo muttered under his ragged breaths, sawing in and out.
I grinned because, yep, he was getting tired.
“What’s so funny—” he began just before a crack sounded as I landed a punch across his face.
He staggered back.
Collective laughter rose through the air.
“Poor fucker’s seein’ stars,” Castle called out.
“You’re too slow, brother.” I sneered, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Maybe you’re getting a little too old for it.”
My brothers, standing outside the ring watching us, laughed.
I pulled my gloves up in front of my face and aimed a jab at his nose, which he dodged, but he was too slow to avoid the second one, which glanced off his jaw. His head snapped back, and I jabbed again, missing that time, so I pulled out an uppercut that caught Rodeo’s chin.
My brother let out a pained groan, and feeling emboldened, I followed through with a flurry of punches, until the brother went down onto his knees.
“Motherfucker,” he said on a moan.
My jaw tightened, and I cracked my neck from side to side, my gut flaring with a simmering heat that had burned inside since the moment Aislynn had driven off a few days earlier.
I rode out to her mom’s house the next morning and waited in the shadows for hours, ready to snatch her and throw her on the back of my bike. But after watching her mom leave and return home a few times, with no sign of Aislynn, I had to accept she’d gone into hiding.
That was when my hunter instinct kicked in.
She wasn’t due back at work yet, and the cameras my boys had planted in her apartment showed she hadn’t been back there, either, so there was no point in riding down to Denver.
Wiki was on phone watch, but that was also quiet, in fact, too quiet. A few of her friends had sent messages to check in and some funny memes, but she hadn’t replied to any of them, which was weird in itself. Eventually, I gave up stalking her mom’s house and rode back to the clubhouse with my tail between my legs, almost wiping out on the icy roads a few times because I kept losing concentration.
Rodeo struck out and his jab glanced off my temple, and my brain rattled inside my skull. Cursing under my breath, I landed a hard blow to his kidney and watched with a satisfied smile as his body contorted in pain. My blood pumped so hard that I could hear it rush through my ears, and I struck out again, landing another punch across his jaw.
On I went, releasing all my pent-up frustration. I rained blows on Rodeo for a good minute before the men began to shout at me to stop. Their voices hardly registered through the wildfire sweeping through me. My vision tunneled in on the enemy, and then, throwing a wide hook, I grunted as my fist landed in what seemed like slow motion across the motherfucker’s jaw.
The entire lower half of his face seemed to shift, and I watched, fascinated, as the fucker’s head whipped to one side and a tooth flew from his mouth, followed by a spurt of blood as his body dropped onto the canvas.
