'Til Death - Part 2 Read online

  I don’t answer him.

  He doesn’t understand. No one would.

  I’m on my own.

  ~*~*~*~

  The car is hot. I’m sweaty and sticky. My hands are shaking.

  The money is in a handbag beside me, ready to be given. I convinced my father I needed a new car and I couldn’t live without one. I’ve been borrowing his but he’s due back at work soon so it was a logical lie. He just handed the money over without question. Of course he’d believe me. Why wouldn’t he?

  A tall man in a dark hoodie comes to the car window, and taps three times. I wind it down to stare at him. I found out the man I spoke to is the new president of the Tinman’s Soldiers, the nephew of Howard, the old president. Howard was killed in prison three months ago.

  He is hard, dangerous and incredibly good-looking. He was captivating the first time I met him, and he’s just the same now. He’s got dark, messy brown hair. His eyes are bright green, mixed with a tiny bit of yellow. His skin is olive. His body is massive, and covered in tattoos. His jaw is set and his mouth is a straight, but plump line.

  “You got the cash?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  I push the money towards him. He reaches in and takes it out. He leans in against the car and counts it, then nods, looking down through the window at me.

  “You sure this is what you want, girl?”

  “Yes.”

  He tilts his head to the side. “Seen a lot of things in this world. Seen darkness. Seen pain. Never seen emptiness the way I see it in your eyes. Whoever this man is, he probably deserves the bullet going into his forehead.”

  I flinch.

  He continues.

  “But can you live with that? Can you live with his death?”

  “Yes,” I croak.

  “We didn’t share names. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. This will be clean and it won’t come back to you. You’ve got forty-eight hours to change your mind. You know where to find me if you do.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Think long and hard about that.”

  I turn to him, and God, does he have beautiful eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be the criminal?”

  His lips tip up. “I am. I’m also trying to clean up a lot of mess my uncle left this club in. I’m doing this because the money is needed, but if you change your mind, it’s yours.”

  I know these men are the enemies to the Jokers’ Wrath MC, but this man, whoever he is, seems like he isn’t so bad. I supposed, he probably thinks the Jokers are the problem, just like they think he’s the problem. Life is twisted like that. Who is really the bad guy, in the end?

  “I’m going to leave now,” I say.

  He nods, stepping back. “Forty-eight hours.”

  I don’t answer him.

  I just drive off.

  I won’t change my mind.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  KATIA

  The moment I step inside my home, I know something is wrong. Everyone is there: my father, my brothers, Candy and Dusty. They’re waiting for me. Their faces are tight and hard. Candy has Penny in her arms, stroking her arms softly, but her face is a hard mask, boring straight into me.

  “Where have you been?” my father asks.

  I shrug. “Out.”

  “Katia,” he warns. “Where have you been?”

  I stare at him. “Out.”

  “Where’s the money I gave you?”

  I flinch. Lifting my head. My eyes shoot to Ford, and he’s glaring at me, arms crossed. He told. He fucking told. My father pulls out a letter, and I know it’s the life insurance policy. He’s put two and two together, with Ford’s help.

  “You told,” I bark to Ford.

  “You have any idea what you’re doing?” he growls. “Any idea what sort of danger you’re putting yourself in.”

  “My business is none of yours.”

  “Katia!”

  It’s Dusty that barks my name. He nods to Candy and she walks away quickly with Penny.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? You were seriously going to get Marcus killed? Did you even think of how that could go wrong?”

  “Stay out of it,” I say.

  “You feel nothing, do you?” he whispers, shaking his head. “You’re completely broken.”

  “I said,” I growl, “stay out of it.”

  “Katia, where’s the money?” my father asks.

  “Gone.”

  “Jesus,” he growls. “Who did you pay?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Katia,” Wyatt says sadly. “Come on, girl.”

  “Stop it, all of you,” I say, my voice so dead I don’t even recognize it. “This is my life. My business. If you don’t stay out of it, you won’t have me.”

  I don’t look at any of them after that; I just turn and rush out of the house. Fuck them all. They don’t understand. I walk quickly down to the barn behind my father’s house. I find a haystack and sit on it, staring out at the crisp blue sky.

  Boots crunching alert me to a person approaching, but I don’t turn.

  “Where have you gone?”

  It’s Ford.

  “Leave me be, Ford. You’ve gotten what you wanted.”

  “Katia, look at me.”

  “Get fucked.”

  He steps in front of me. “Wake up to yourself. Do you not see what you’re doing?”

  I say nothing.

  “Fuck, get out of that shell and listen to me,” he bellows. “You are not just messing with your future, but your daughter’s future.”

  My jaw tightens, but I still say nothing.

  “Do you think the cops won’t find out it’s you? Do you think that they won’t see the massive transaction from my father to you, and wonder where it went? Do you not think they won’t then place him in the firing line too? What’s going to happen then, when you go to jail?”

  “Stop.”

  “No,” he growls. “What’s going to happen, Katia? Where’s Penny going to go if Marcus is dead and you’re in jail? Well, picture it. Her in a foster home, alone, with no one.”

  “Stop,” I rasp.

  “Imagine how that’s going to feel for her? All because her mother couldn’t think about her. Instead, she thought of herself.”

  “Stop it!” I scream, launching my body towards his.

  He catches me, jerking me backwards. “Can you live with that?” he roars. “Can you live with ruining your daughter’s life? What about your father’s? You selfish, self-centered little cow. How dare you take her life away from her?”

  “Stop.” I thrash. “Stop it.”

  “No. Not until you see what a monster you’ve become. Did you think of her once during your little plan?”

  My knees buckle, my hands hit the dirt and I scream. “He destroyed me.”

  Ford drops down beside me. “I know.”

  “He took everything. He took every-fucking-thing.”

  “Honey,” he says, gripping my chin. “I know.”

  “He needs to pay,” I screech. “He needs to suffer. He needs to bleed.”

  “And Penny?”

  Tears explode from my eyes. “No,” I croak. “No, not Penny.”

  “She’ll suffer. She’ll go down for this, too. You’ll go to jail, Katia. And Penny will be left alone.”

  “I’m so numb,” I wail. “So fucking numb. I feel nothing. Why is this happening to me?”

  “Sometimes we feel numb, because we’re too scared to feel the pain. We’re too scared because we know it’ll burn.”

  No. No. No. No.

  I reach up and tangle my fingers in my hair, pulling. Ford dislodges them, pressing my hands beneath his and holding them against his chest.

  “This has to stop.”

  “It won’t go away until he’s gone!” I cry.

  “Yes, it will. It will go when you accept it all, and move on.”

  “You know nothing,” I scream, shoving off him and standing up. “Damn it, none of you unders
tand.”

  “Maybe not!” he yells. “But we care about you. About your daughter.”

  I laugh bitterly. “You don’t care about me.”

  “Katia, you’re going to destroy so many lives.”

  “I’m done,” I whisper, dropping my head.

  I turn and walk off into the trees.

  “God damn it!” Ford roars behind me. “Wake up to yourself.”

  I hear nothing more because I disappear into the thick shrubs. My head is swimming by the time I reach the road. I’m trying to push Ford’s words aside. Trying to remove the agony from my chest. I don’t want my daughter to be without me. I don’t want that, but I can’t shake the urge to hurt Marcus.

  I want him to suffer.

  I wave down a cab and ask him to take me to the closest bar. I’m still so numb, only now my heart is pounding. I don’t know why it’s pounding. I haven’t been able to break through the barrier covering my heart. I need it to break. I need to protect my daughter. Yet here I am, driving myself farther and farther away from those who want to help me.

  I thrust some money at the cab driver and get out when he comes to a stop. I hurry inside the crowded bar, and go straight up to get a drink. I order a vodka on the rocks, and shoot it down before ordering another. Then another. Soon I’m even number, and my heart is no longer pounding. I drop my head to the cool wood of the bar and clench my teeth.

  They don’t understand.

  They’ll never understand.

  No one ever will.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  KATIA

  I’m drunk.

  It’s because of that I don’t notice him approach.

  It’s not until he’s standing in front of me, fists bunched, panting with rage, that I realize the situation I’m in. I look up slowly and take him in. Disheveled hair, black tee tight across his chest, black jeans hanging low on his hips, brown eyes ripping through mine with fury.

  “Marcus,” I slur.

  “How dare you?” he barks.

  “How dare I what?”

  He reaches down, hauling me up and dragging me through the people. He takes me outside into the fresh air, and immediately the alcohol hits my head harder. I groan, leaning against a wall in pain.

  “You are trying to have me killed.”

  I snap my head up at his deadly words. “How did you know?”

  He throws his head back and laughs so bitterly it sends chills down my skin. “How did I know? Not, oh my God, I regret it, or I’m sorry Marcus, but instead, how did I know? What sort of monster have you become, Katia?”

  “Monster?” I growl. “Me? You’re the monster here, Marcus.”

  He shakes his head. He’s angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. He’s panting, sweat trickling down his forehead. His entire body is wound up so tightly his muscles are bulging.

  “You want to make me pay,” he roars so loudly I flinch, pressing myself against the wall. “Then you come and you fuckin’ do it to me; you don’t turn into a mother-fuckin’ coward and call on a hitman. What the fuck sort of woman tries to have a man killed? I fucked up, Katia, but death? Where the fuck did you go?”

  Tears flare to life under my eyes and I scream, “She was all I had left!”

  “And I never fuckin’ killed her,” he bellows. “I didn’t know. I didn’t do it intentionally.”

  “You held me back,” I yell, lunging forward. He takes a step back and I stumble. He doesn’t try to help me.

  “And I live with that, but this . . .” He laughs bitterly. “Imagine how proud she’d be looking down on you now.”

  “Fuck you,” I scream, swinging out and hitting his jaw.

  “You wanna make me hurt?” he barks. “Go right ahead. Hit me, Katia. Fuckin’ hit me. Do us all proud.”

  I swing again, connecting with his jaw once more. He grunts in pain, but doesn’t try to stop me. Rage explodes in my chest, and months of agony take over. I swing at him, pounding into his face over and over, taking my fists to his perfect skin. It doesn’t go away. It doesn’t make it better. It doesn’t stop.

  “Enough,” he barks after my fourth or fifth hit.

  I keep going.

  He takes my hands and hauls me backwards, slamming them above my head as my bottom hits the wall. I lunge forward but he doesn’t budge. I want to spit in his face, I want to kiss him, I want to smash him until he cries.

  “Does it make you feel good?” he barks. “Does hurting me fix everything?”

  “Fuck you,” I cry.

  “Does it?” he bellows. “Fucking does it?”

  “Go to hell!”

  “I’m already fuckin’ there, baby.”

  Then he smashes his lips over mine. I kiss him hard. I kiss him deep. He lets my hands go and I shove them forward, dragging them over his scalp, tugging his hair, bringing them down his neck, down his back and shoving them under his shirt, finding his hard, bare back. I dig them in and he hisses in pain.

  “Make it fuckin’ burn, Katia. It’s what you want,” he growls against my mouth. “Make me pay.”

  I knead his muscles like a woman crazed, desperate to feel more of him, even though he’s smashed against me. He slams me harder against the wall, bringing his hands down and shoving them up my skirt. His fingers dip beneath my panties and he finds my clit. There he starts stroking and flicking until I’m pounding at his back and screaming his name.

  “Fuck,” he snarls.

  He puts a hand under my backside, launching me upwards. I curl my legs around his hips as I thrust towards his hand, wanting more. Needing everything. My head is spinning, my rage is consuming and my fingernails are doing serious damage to his back. His cock is hard against my core, and I don’t want to wait anymore.

  “Fuck me,” I mewl.

  He jerks his jeans down, freeing his cock, and then he drives upwards, filling me. I throw my head back and scream his name over and over, my legs tight around his waist, my fingers drawing blood on his back. He tangles his fingers into my hair and he fucks me, hard and deep, just how I want it.

  “Make it fuckin’ burn,” he snarls against my skin.

  I release his back and move my hands up to his hair. I curl my fingers in and tug his head back, exposing his throat. I lean forward, closing my mouth over his neck. I begin sucking and biting, relishing in his sounds of tortured pleasure. He grips my hip, driving his thrusts, his fingers burning into my skin.

  “God damn it, come,” he barks.

  “Fuck you.”

  “You. Fuckin’. Are.”

  He comes before me, roaring his release, jerking his hips like a mad man. It’s enough to send me over the edge to mine. I close my eyes and pant his name as my body convulses around him, until we’re coming together. Our release lasts a good long while, and our bodies slowly grind together until we’re satisfied.

  Then Marcus lets me go and steps back. He jerks his jeans up and it’s then I see he’s still angry. His jaw is so tight I can see the muscles bunching beneath his cheek. When he’s done himself up, he looks over at me, still panting against the wall.

  “You call them off me, or I’ll be forced to take my own action.”

  His words pound into me, and I blink at the beautiful man in front of me.

  “I . . .”

  “I hope you’re truly proud of everything you’ve become, Katia. I might be a monster, but you’ve outdone me. You can’t judge me when you’re equally as evil. Your mother would be turning in her grave if she could see you right now.”

  My knees wobble and something hard pounds into my chest.

  “Stop it,” I whisper.

  “She’d be ashamed to call you her daughter.”

  “Stop it!”

  He steps forward. “Just like I’m ashamed I ever called you my wife.”

  My knees crumble and I cry out in agony.

  “I’ve lived with my mistake; I’ve lived with it every fuckin’ day. You, you’re only just beginning.”

  “Please,�
� I scream, clutching my head as the walls I’ve been holding up so long burst and come crashing down around me.

  “You want a divorce? You fuckin’ got it. Just stay the hell out of my life. We’re done. The papers will be delivered tomorrow.”

  With that, he turns and disappears into the darkness.

  I scream so loudly the agonized sounds get caught in my chest and my throat closes over. I crash forward, my hands slapping against the bitumen. What the hell have I become? God. What sort of monster am I? He’s right. I’m no better than him. My mother would be so disappointed in me.

  Mom.

  I’m so sorry.

  ~*~*~*~

  MARCUS

  I slam my fist into the car over and over until my knuckles bust and bleed. An agonized roar escapes my throat to drown out her screaming. Once again I left her devastated and broken. Only this time she returned the favor. She took my soul, the same way I’d taken hers, and she crushed it.

  Now we were as pathetic as each other.

  God help us both.

  ~*~*~*~

  KATIA

  “Ford?” I rasp down the phone.

  “Jesus, Katia, where are you?”

  “I . . . I’m in town. At the Radcliff Bar. I need a lift. Please.”

  “I’ll be there in ten. Sit tight.”

  I close my eyes, dropping the phone to the floor. My hips are sore, my sex swollen, and there are so many pieces of Marcus surrounding me. I’m defeated. I’ve ruined myself. I’ve ruined him. Together we’ve destroyed each other. Shame and guilt swarm my body as my actions become clearer to me.

  I was going to have him killed.

  What kind of heartless, cold, cruel person does such a thing? What Marcus did to me doesn’t even compare to what I had planned for him. When did I ever think something like that would work? When did I think I could get away with destroying a life? Worse, when did I think about my daughter in all of this?

  Tears rack my body and by the time Ford reaches me, I’m hyperventilating. “Shit,” he mutters, leaning down and scooping me up. He quickly walks me to the car and puts me in. I slump forward, crying so hard I can’t see. How could I be so careless? How could I be so cold? I forgot about my daughter; for a second there, I forgot about her.