I lock my gaze to his, pull the trigger, and shoot him dead.
It isn’t right.
It isn’t my place to do it.
But TomTom isn’t going to stop his murdering ways. He’s gotten a taste for it and lusts for more. He isn’t going to stop until the law stops him. And how many more women will have to die before that happens? At least with TomTom gone, the world is rid of one more dark soul.
Pity there are so many more left.
Like mine.
As TomTom takes his last breath, a gasp reverberates around the room, and we all turn to see Bronte standing in the doorway before she takes off like the wind.
Paw, Wyatt, and Shooter all look at me.
I hand Paw his Ruger.
Then go after Bronte.
BRONTE
My heart racing, I escape to the bedroom. I’m shaking. I know there’s a dark side to the club, but I’ve never seen it. Hell, I’ve never seen a dead body before, either. It’s shocking and scary, and I doubt I’m going to get the image unseared from my brain any time soon.
But in my heart, I know that whoever that person was, he had some kind of retribution coming.
I trust Jack wholeheartedly and know he will have a good reason for doing what he did. Still, it’s terrifying, and the tightening in my chest only amplifies when I hear heavy boots come up the hallway. The door swings open, and Jack appears in the doorway.
My heart lodges in my throat, and alarm tingles in the base of my spine, fueled by the dark look on his face. “Are you okay?” His voice is rough.
“He was dead,” is my lame reply.
“Yes.”
His confirmation settles over me like ice water, and I nod solemnly. “You had your reasons.”
“Yes.”
Again, that one little word ripples over me.
“This is who I am, Bronte,” he says the words like they’re a warning.
I go to him. “I don’t care what you have to say about it. I know you.” I reach for his face, but he grabs my wrist. Our eyes meet. His are dark and stormy. I ignore his hand and cup his jaw. The lines in the sand are drawn, but I’m about to destroy them. “I trust you.”
And I do.
With every piece of my soul.
I reach up on tiptoes and brush my lips across his, and even though he trembles, I know he is going to fight this, but I’m going to fight even harder for it. I widen my mouth and slide my tongue into the warmth of his. I hear him groan. Feel his resistance waver. Feel his fists clench. And as the kiss goes deeper, I know I’m winning the battle.
But with a sudden growl, he pulls away.
Then he moves back.
But I’m not having it.
Enough already.
I grab his bicep. “I’m a grown woman, and I know what I want. And I want you.” My pulse is racing in my throat, my heart kicking wildly against my ribcage. The way he’s looking at me is killing me. The torment, the need, the denial, they all crackle in the air. I swipe my tongue across my lip and his eyes track the movement—they’re hooded and lustful.
He prowls toward me. “You want me? Well, this is me, wildflower. I’m not the same man you once knew. That man, he’s long dead. Do you understand me? Dead. And in his place is a monster with veins full of venom and hate and a relentless hunger for revenge. I kill people. Send them straight to hell. Sometimes with my bare hands.” He holds up his big, calloused palms. “You want these hands touching you?”
“Yes.” My voice is small, only a whisper because my heart is beating so fast and my throat is as dry as a desert. I’m thirsty for him, and I want him to touch me. I want him to touch me more than I want my next breath.
He towers over me, his eyes dark and his voice dangerously low. “Did you hear what I said? I kill people.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” I manage to say because the moment is tight with danger and desire, and I’m both exhilarated and terrified at the same time.
“I’d cut off my own hands before I’d hurt you. But that’s you. And what you just saw, that’s me. I’m already stained in darkness. But you’ve got a chance to live in the light, kid. Don’t waste it. You need to stay the hell away from men like me.”
“No.” My voice is sharp. “I want you, and despite what you say, I know you want me, too. So don’t deny it.”
Jack looms over me, and I can see the storm taking place in his tormented eyes. Reaching for his hand, I press it to my chest. “Feel how it’s racing for you?”
Lust shimmers in his expression.