The Psycho (The Soldiers of Anarchy 1) - Page 14

Chapter Eight

Adam

Idon’t know how I stopped myself from raining down hell in that coffee shop. It wasn’t like me to hold back, but there were voices in my head telling me to let her have her moment. I’d take care of him, but I wouldn’t do it in front of her. She deserved to have her time in the spotlight. She needed it.

My reaction still shocked me though.

Who knew?

Maybe I did have restraint after all?

At least when it came to her, anyway.

I was ready though, if he ever made the wrong move or touched her. I would be there to step in, take him out, and put him down like the mongrel he was. Nobody spoke to her like that and got away with it.

She didn’t see me standing off in the corner, and I watched as she threw her coffee over him, feeling a ripple of pride that she’d done that. Her two friends followed her, but I stayed behind and sat at a table in the corner, watching him brush himself down with a napkin that had absolutely no effect on the ridiculous brown stain down his white polo shirt and chinos. I mean, who the fuck was this kid? Who dressed like that these days?

He glanced around nervously, and when he saw the salty looks being thrown his way, he stood up, threw money down onto the table and strode out like he was a fucking king and he hadn’t just been made to look like a complete mug by my girl in front of everyone.

I kept my head low as he drifted nonchalantly past where I was and headed out of the door. Then, I stood up and followed him. As I got outside, I glanced down the road and saw Olivia standing at the bus stop, and from the way her arms were flaying around, I could tell she was mouthing off to her friends.

She’d keep.

She was safe.

Lucky for me, the chino asshole was heading in the opposite direction. Wise move on his part.

I kept in step with him, close enough to track him, but far enough away that he didn’t know he was being watched. When he turned into an alleyway that led to a small carpark at the back of the shops, I broke into a sprint and ducked down into the alley after him. He turned to see whose footsteps were following him, and before he had chance to see me, I grabbed the back of his collar, slammed him into the fence and wrapped one hand around his throat as I took my knife out of my jeans with the other hand.

His eyes bugged out of his head, and he gasped. “You can have my wallet, keys, whatever you want, just don’t hurt me. Please.”

I gave an evil laugh and pushed my face forward, my nose touching his as I moved the knife from behind my back and pressed it into his Adam’s apple.

“I don’t want your money,” I sneered, and his panting became stronger, more laboured as I applied extra pressure to the blade at his neck.

“So… what… what do you want?” He was sweating like a pig. Rivulets dripping down his face like he’d just come out of the shower, and I smiled. I’d missed this.

“I want you to learn some manners.” My knife was positioned just to the side of his neck now, and I pressed it in, laughing drily as a drip of red appeared and trickled down his neck, staining the collar of his white shirt. The way he clenched his eyes shut and started to whimper sent a wave of satisfaction through my veins. If he thought this was the worst of it, he was in for a nasty surprise.

“Whatever you want to say, just… say it,” he whispered, his throat bobbing, swallowing in fear at the thought of what my blade would do next.

I gritted my teeth and glared at him, my eyes burning with the hatred that I felt in that moment.

“You don’t get to make the rules around here,” I snapped, pushing my knife into the same spot again and earning another trickle of blood to follow the track that the last one had left behind.

“Okay,” he spluttered out breathlessly. “Okay.”

I grinned and took a step back. The fact that he leant forward slightly and tried to regulate his breathing, putting his hands on his thighs, amused me, and a small, ironic smile curled at the corner of my mouth. This was going to be fun.

“So what is this about?” He gasped. “My dad? Did he piss your family off?” He stood back up, rubbing his clammy hands on his trousers and touching his neck before pulling his fingers away to assess the damage. When he saw the blood, he winced and held his hand against the minuscule wound that he had there. This guy was an absolute pussy.

“I couldn’t give a shit about your dad,” I growled in a low, menacing voice. “If he’s anything like you, then I’m guessing he’s an arrogant twat who needs a bullet in him just like you do.”

His eyes bugged out of his head again for the second time, and he quickly scanned my body, looking for a firearm before he whipped his head up and down the alleyway–looking for a get-out.

“I haven’t got a gun,” I said, stepping back towards him. “I don’t take the easy road. If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well, and a cunt like you calls for the best job possible.”

I didn’t stop to think as my kill switch clicked into gear. I grabbed his left hand, slamming it up against the fence and then stabbed my knife right through the palm of his hand, pinning him in place.

“What the fuck?” he screamed as he started to pant, and when he turned to see his hand stuck to the fence, he started to cry like the pussy he really was. “Shit. Please. No. Stop this. I’ve got a brand-new Range Rover parked a few feet away. It’s right over there. You want it? It’s yours. Just please. Leave me alone. Don’t kill me.”

“I don’t want your shitty car,” I snarled, and I held the handle of the knife, twisting it so he could feel all the pain I wanted to inflict on him. “You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself.” I grinned, twisting further and further. “Because if you don’t… I’ll cut them both off and shove them up your ass.”

He was spluttering and crying, snot mixing with his tears. He was one of the most cowardly fuckers I’d ever dealt with.

“Please stop. I can’t… cope.” He sobbed but his feeble attempt to try and save himself meant nothing to me.

With a slow grunt, so as to prolong the agony, I pulled the knife out and he howled, grabbing his blood-soaked hand in the other and almost sinking to the floor as he whimpered like a little girl. I wouldn’t let him fall though. This wasn’t over yet. I still hadn’t made my point.

I yanked him back up the fence by his collar and held my knife to his mouth.

“If I ever hear you talk to Olivia like that again, I’ll cut your tongue out. Do you hear me?”

He nodded but he didn’t dare open his mouth. He knew not to tempt me.

“And if you go anywhere near her”–I added, whispering in his ear–“I’ll cut your dick off and sew it in place of your tongue.” I pushed my forehead to his and looked deep into his eyes so he knew I meant what I said. “She’s mine. I protect what’s mine. And you overstepped the mark today. Do you know how far you’ve pushed me?”

Again, he nodded, and the way he grimaced, I was pretty sure he’d shit his pants.

“You’re lucky.” I smiled, stepping back and taking my knife, wiping the blood from the blade onto his chest. “I won’t kill you today.” He let out a gasp, but his relief was short lived when I added, “Oh, I will kill you. But for now, you can run back to all your little friends in Sandland and tell them, no one fucks with Olivia Cooper. She’s property of the Soldiers.”

He stood, staring at me, like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening, and I grinned back at him, backing further away and pocketing my knife. When I turned and strolled away–back towards the street–I chuckled as I heard him scampering away like a rat. He’d keep. I wouldn’t let him get away with disrespecting her. But he had his uses. He looked like a pig, and pigs squeal. By tonight, everyone would know to stay away from her. His fuck-up had worked in my favour. Now, I had a messenger to spread the word and I had a new target to play with. His cards were marked. He was a dead man.

Tags: Nikki J. Summers The Soldiers of Anarchy Dark
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