My Kind of Dirty (Dirty Fuckers MC 2)

“He’ll get angry with me.”

“He hits you and beats you. Look at you, you’re terrified.”

“It’s all my fault,” the woman said.

“No, it’s not your fault.” Drake reached into his jacket, pulling out the number of a local officer who dealt with domestic cases. He’d done his research before coming here.

Drake handed the card over, and she took it.

She opened the door, staring at the number. “He was so nice. When I first saw him, he was so sweet and loving. He always said it was my fault, and nothing I ever did was right.”

“It’s not your fault. This has been going on for what, a month, two months?” he asked.

“We’ve been together three months.”

“Do you want to stay?” Drake asked.

“No, I want to get out.”

“Pack your shit up, go to the cops, and press charges against him.” Drake took a seat. “I’ll be here to make sure he stays away. You can pack up, and be gone. I’ll deal with Dwayne.”

He watched the young woman rush around trying to pack everything she owned into one bag. There wasn’t a lot, and before long she left the house.

“You’re not coming as well?” she asked.

“Nope. I’ve got a bone to pick with him, and I’m going to sit right here until I speak with him.” Drake lowered himself onto the sofa.

“He’ll hurt you.”

Drake laughed. “Don’t worry, honey, I’m more than happy to get my ass kicked.” He watched her leave, and then he waited. Grace didn’t have a clue where he was, and he was going to keep it that way.

Two hours passed before the elusive Dwayne entered the apartment.

“Rosie, baby, I want you,” Dwayne said, closing the door.

“Sorry, baby, no Rosie here,” Drake said.

He watched as Dwayne spun around, glaring at him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Dwayne asked.

“Hello, Dwayne. I hear you have quite a bit of a temper on you.”

“Has that bitch been talking? She’s fucking lying. Rosie!”

“Rosie is gone, and I’m not talking about her, even though I bet that black eye speaks for itself.”

“She walked into a door.”

“A fist shaped door?”

“Can’t prove nothing,” Dwayne said. “Who’ll believe her?”

Drake smiled. “Anyway, I’m not here about Rosie. I’m here about Grace.”

He saw recognition in Drake’s eyes, along with the shot of fear. “What about that whore?”

“That whore is going to be my wife, and I wanted to see what fucker thought he could put his hands on her in anger. Imagine my surprise I see you,” Drake said, sneering at him.