Rough Stuff (The Untouchables MC 3)

“Was I too rough?”

She shook her head vigorously and reached for me. I took her hand and held it but nothing more.

“Not even a little. Can we do that again?”

I ruffled her hair and rested my forehead against hers. Of course I wanted to do it again. More than anything. But if we did, she would be sore for days and the rest of our little fuckcation would be ruined.

I pressed a kiss to her cheek and told her to sleep. I knew I’d be staring at the ceiling for a good long time.

“Tomorrow.”

Chapter Eleven

Killer

I spat on the ground, leaning against the tree trunk just outside the hotel grounds. He was in there. The one they said was impossible to get.

Impossible to kill. But no one was that hard to kill. He was flesh and blood, like the rest of the little piggies that Dante and I had slaughtered. Even if he looked more like a wild boar.

Cain.

He was my goal. My ultimate goal. That and finding out who had killed my idol, my brother, my God. Dante.

I had a feeling Cain had ordered the hit. So he was on my list. I didn’t like the smug fucker anyway. I hungered for the splash of his blood. The fear in his eyes. The moment where he turned from a human into a dumb animal, trying to escape the slaughterhouse.

It would be brazen to try and take him here. There were cameras everywhere inside a place like that. I could disable a few of them, but not all. I was tempted to try anyway. I had a way of slipping through the cracks.

Like oil on shit, Dante used to say.

Dante had hated Cain. Loathed him. They were polar opposites. While Dante was hot-tempered and impulsive, Cain was ice-cold. The big, stoic man never reacted to anything. He made life harder for the Vipers. He didn’t want to play ball when it came to dealing in arms, drugs, or women. Dante might be gone, but I was carrying on his mission. I wouldn’t rest until every motherfucker who crossed him was dead and buried.

Or even better, turned to ash.

And just to be thorough, I’d torch their loved ones too.

My thirst for blood had increased with every murder. The first time, I’d felt a sick fascination, watching Dante cut that first boy’s eyes out. But now, my blood lust was a massive, jagged rock, rolling downhill. Even messing up those club girls had made me want more. Now it was like an itch, like a hungry bug crawling under my skin. I needed to kill. It wasn’t just a sport like it had started out with that reporter kid. Now it was something else.

I was fucking compelled to make Dante’s enemies suffer.

Especially after what they had done to him. Stringing him up like that . . . it had to be the Untouchables. It had to be. No one in our club would dare mess with our fallen President, no matter how cruel and crazy Dante could be.

I smiled grimly and spat out another bit of chaw.

But as badly as I wanted to tear Cain’s big blue eyes out and add them to my collection, I couldn’t. Not tonight. Not tomorrow either.

He was in there with some woman, which was unusual for him. He usually didn’t mess around. No family. No one else to hurt. That wasn’t the issue. I’d be happy to make this new girl squeal like a pig as I cut off little pieces of her. I’d make him watch.

Yeah, Dante would approve of that.

But it was too hot to go in tonight. I wasn’t scared of being caught or the punishment that was sure to follow. I’d off myself first. But I had to finish what we had started first. The parking lot wasn’t overly full, but there was a big problem. Two of them, really.

Hunter and Vice were out there.

Two of the baddest motherfuckers in the Untouchables, and two I actually respected. Not that it would stop me from killing them. They associated with Cain and that was more than enough for me. At least they’d both been around since the MC was a real club, doing whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted to. Now, there was no official club business that was under the radar. Everything was aboveboard.

Cain didn’t like to mess with the good ole US of A.

Pussy.

I cracked my knuckles and settled in to wait. Maybe they’d take a fucking nap. Or take a leak. Then I could pick them off, one by one. Even if I didn’t get to Cain, he would be rattled to find his two favorite watchdogs cut up and grilled like biker shishkabobs.

It was going to be a long night, but I didn’t mind. If there was even a chance I’d get to use the hunting knife strapped to my forearm, it would be worth it. My knife wanted blood almost as much as I did.