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Knox

Page 45

by Sarina Hart

“Fuck,” he roared through the pain. “Goddammit, man!”

“This,” I said and raised it again, this time high above my head, “is about revenge.” I swung again, landing it against his chest. “You went after my woman.”

“Your woman,” he coughed, struggling to breathe. “Is a tool. A plant to get info for Rex.”

“That’s why Rex put her there, yeah. But Rex hasn’t exactly been kind to her, has he?” I didn’t wait for him to answer, but the look of confusion on his face was the last thing I saw as the hammerhead connected with his face. His skull. I raised it and swung hard over and over, thinking about this asshole scaring Ivy. About the nightmares she still had. The way she clung to me in the middle of the night.

The way she still fucking jumped when the phone rang.

I relished every sickening crunch that sounded as the steel made contact with his head until it was caved in and his blood coated the bed and the walls. Me and Rook, too.

I raised it one final time.

“Enough,” Rook said, his voice cut through the haze of anger and rage that coursed through my veins.

I stopped, breathing heavy as I took in the damage. “Motherfucker.”

“He had it comin’ and he knew it. Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Rook said.

I nodded, grabbing one of his kitchen towels on my way out to wipe his blood and brains off my face. “One down. One to go.”

***

We had to wait outside Samson’s house once he arrived with one of the club whores, giving them enough time to relax and let their guard down.

“We could do this another time,” Rook suggested.

I shook my head. “Tonight is good. It’s not like Rex will be confused about who did this.”

“So I get to keep the club whore distracted?” he asked with a grin.

“Do what you gotta do, brother.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

Samson’s house was smaller than Vulture’s, which made it easier to clear before we made it to the bedroom where the club whore was riding his cock.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said, my voice loud enough to startle them both.

“Get the fuck out,” he shouted, reaching, no doubt for the gun on the table.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Rook said, gun already trained on Samson’s head. “Unless you’re ready to die.”

He froze mid-move with his hands raised above his shoulders. “What the fuck do you want, then?”

Rook looked at the club whore. “Put some clothes on.”

She scrambled off Samson’s cock, eyes wide with fear.

“Move slowly,” he instructed.

She nodded and slowed down considerably as she gathered her panties and slipped them on under the denim skirt she still wore.

“Come here, darlin’.” Rook motioned her over to him. “Take a seat,” he ordered, pointing to the floor. “That way,” he pointed to the wall and watched her until she complied.

“What do you know about Rex’s hidden accounts?”

Samson said nothing.