Curly (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 1)

“How much money did you make tonight?”

“Ten grand,” Prick said.

“Not bad. Enjoy it. It’s the last you’ll ever make from fucking dog fights.”

“Fuck you,” Prick said again. “That little bitch of yours send you here? She’s a hot little thing. Bet she sucks a mean dick.” He shifted his gaze to Tyler. “He let you have a run at her? Maybe you get to tap her ass while he—”

Curly again signaled Scott, who produced a switchblade from fucking thin air. A quick flick of his wrist and the knife was soaring toward Prick. One second later, it found a soft place to land in man’s meaty thighs.

“Fuck!” he screamed at Scott as his hands went to the handle.

“Don’t touch it.” Scott held his gun as steady as anyone ever had.

“Jesus, you’re fucking crazy.” Sweat ran down Prick’s face, which had turned a light shade of green. He groaned and flopped back against the recliner.

“You have no idea,” Scott said with a toothy smile that validated Prick’s accusation.

“You like terrorizing women, Prick? Leaving ’em notes in the middle of the night?”

“Fuck you,” Prick said, but his voice had weakened. “Fuck that bitch.”

“Should I tie you to that chair and burn this place to the ground like you tried to do to Brooke’s dogs?” Fury had Curly speaking through clenched teeth and squeezing his fists in tight balls.

Prick’s eyes widened. “What? I didn’t do that? I didn’t start a fucking fire. You-you gotta believe me. I just wanted to scare the bit—”

Curly snarled.

“I-I just wanted to scare the b—uh, her off.”

“Fucking chicken-shit liar. Can’t even own it. What? You think I’ll let you off with a pat on the back if you somehow convince me you didn’t do it?” Curly grunted. “Funny. Guess what I found out, Prick?” Curly asked, calm as could be even though his insides were a jumbled mess of contradicting needs. His right hand twitched with the desire to grab that knife handle, yank it from Prick’s leg, and plunge it into the fucker’s neck.

“W-what?”

“You don’t own this land. You’re renting the house from an old man who has owned it for year and hasn’t been able to sell. You still got family in Texas?”

“Y-yes,” Prick answered, sweating profusely now. Blood soaked through the denim over his thigh. “A-a sister.”

“Here’s how we’re gonna play this. You’re done here in Florida. Tuck your tail between your legs and hobble off to Texas. Go stay with your sister if she’ll have your dumb ass. I’ll be putting an offer on this place and making it my club’s home base. Kinda poetic, isn’t it? Feel like we’ve come full circle or something.”

Prick groaned and rocked back and forth.

“After you leave, we’ll never see you again, and you’ll never see us. However, I’ll be keeping tabs on you. If I hear you’re still running dog fights, I’ll kill you. If you show your face here in Florida, I’ll kill you. If you come near or hurt Brooke again, I’ll torture you before I kill you. You get where I’m going with this?” Part of him would love Prick to break those rules so Curly could fulfill this promise.

Prick had gone pale, and his eyes shone with a glassy confusion.

“Prick, you with me?” Curly snapped his fingers in front of the guy’s face.

“I got it,” Scott said.

Curly stepped back, assuming another hard slap was coming Prick’s way when a gunshot rang out, followed by Prick’s high-pitched scream of agony.

“What the fuck!” Prick screamed as he reached for his foot. His gut kept him from cradling the injured appendage, so he rocked back and forth in his chair, moaning.

With a grunt, Curly faced Scott. “Seriously?” He’d shot a hole straight through Prick’s bare foot. Blood gushed from the wound.

“What?” Scott shrugged. “He wasn’t paying attention.”

Fuck. It was time to split before Prick bled out, and they ended up with a body on their hands.

“Prick!” Curly clapped his hands in front of the sniveling man’s face.

“W-what?” He continued to rock with all his attention on Scott, waiting for the man to strike again.

Scott blew him a kiss.

“Hey!” Curly clapped again, and this time Prick jolted then faced him. He was shaking as shock began to set in. “What are you gonna do?”

Prick sent Curly such a scathing look for one second he almost told Scott to finish the bastard off. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Prick had hired someone to terrorize Brooke.

And they’d been so damn close to killing her.

“L-leave,” he said, trembling. “I’ll l-leave.”

“For good?”

“Y-yes.”

“And the house?”

“Y-yours.”

“Generous of you. And only the tip of the iceberg as far as what you owe me, fucker.”

“D-doctor. I n-need a—”

Curly leaned in. “You scared?” he whispered. The sour scent of Prick’s fear singed his nostrils. “Scared you might die? Maybe lose your foot? Can you feel your life draining as the blood seeps out?”