I held up my hand without turning then motioned for Ink to join us. “Give me a name.”
Trent rubbed his hands up and down his arms, still looking at the ground. “Joseph Hill. He works over at Bart’s Garage.”
Ink nodded. “On it.”
I placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t ever let anyone hurt you, you understand me? No matter who the fuck it is, you fight back. You always fight back. No mercy. No surrender.”
With that, I turned and walked out. This was why I avoided the crowd in the gym. Too many lost souls. Too much pain and too many problems. If I had my way, I’d fuck up every low-life scumbag who hurt children. Like I said, we weren’t saints, and we played house with cruel motherfuckers. But when it came to hurting children, I became a beast. If you fucked with the children on these streets, you fucked with me.
Out of the gym, I passed the outside courtyard that led to the bar. It was like our own little compound. The gym. The bar. And a few rooms upstairs from the bar, with a small living space and kitchen. Most of the guys had their own houses and families to go to at the end of the night. It was only Onyx, Dutch, Manic, Ink, and I who stayed here. As far as we were concerned, the club was our life. We didn’t need anything else.
It was almost the end of autumn, and the early winter chill could already be felt in the air. Dutch’s piss-poor attempt at gardening was already ruined, winter not even in full bloom yet.
The door to the bar swung open as I entered, Onyx waiting for me inside.
“She won’t eat.” He crossed his arms.
“What did you give her?”
Onyx rolled his eyes. “I gave her a fucking salad just like you said.”
“Did she say anything?”
“Nothing. I went in, took the sandwich she didn’t eat, and placed the salad box on the bed. She didn’t even look up.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before leaning back against the wall, lighting a cigarette. I knew getting her to eat would probably be a challenge, but I didn’t come this far in life by cowering away from challenges—especially when it came to her. Turned out she had a little bit more fight in her than I anticipated, but I was okay with that. It made things…interesting, feeling both lust and anger when I looked at her. It was an explosive combination.
I blew out a cloud of smoke. “She needs to fucking eat.”
“The girl’s been kidnapped, Granite. I don’t blame her for not exactly having a fucking appetite.”
“As you’ve noticed, she can’t exactly afford not to eat.”
“Yeah. There’s not really reserves on her bones for a hunger strike.”
“Jesus.” Flipping the cigarette to the ground, I stomped on it on my way to the stairs. “I’ll deal with it. Take Manic and check in with our scouts. I want to know when the Pythons hear the news, and when to expect that goddamn phone call.”
Taking two stairs at a time, I already felt my blood simmer in my veins. Excitement knocked at my spine, knowing I was about to see her again. It was a bad fucking idea, judging by the way my cock twitched just thinking about her locked up in that room with nowhere to run. But fuck me if I didn’t like every second of it.
I unlocked the door and stormed in, finding her sitting against the opposite wall. “Why the fuck won’t you eat?”
She didn’t even blink.
I slammed the door shut. “I’m talking to you.”
No response. She just sat there leaning her head against the wall while staring at the window. Catatonic.
The salad Onyx brought her remained untouched on the bed, a half a bottle of water on the ground next to her. At least she drank something.
Something inside me stirred as I moved closer. The room started to smell like her—vanilla with a hint of honey. I recognized the scent. Sweet and seductive, just like her. I fucking loved it.
Every step I took echoed through the silence, my leather cut creaking as I moved. With my gaze pinned on her, I took a seat on the bed in front of her, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. My head tilted to the side as I scrutinized her.
Filthy blonde hair clung to her forehead. The purple welts on her face seemed deeper, almost grotesque against her ghostly skin. Dry blood crusted around her nose, blue circles framing her eyes. Frankly, she looked like shit, and if it wasn’t for the image of my knife stuck in the dead Python’s skull, it probably would have bothered me a little more than it did. I hated that she got hurt, but I loved that she was right here in front of me. Under my roof. At my mercy. Even as president of the Kings, her presence, her fear made me feel more powerful than I ever had before. It was exhilarating.
My gaze traveled down her neck, a few scratches and bruises scattered from her jaw down to her chest. But it was nothing compared to what her face looked like. It was time for Neon to do a little photoshoot.
“That bruise on your face has to hurt. Be a good girl and eat something, then I might consider giving you something for the pain.”