Destroy For Her - R.B. Hilliard Page 0,16
told her not to go to Mexico with Carlos in the first place. If she’d listened to it, then none of this would have happened. She considered lying, saying that the picture was of Gibbs instead of Alex, but something about the incident bothered her. Carlos’s reaction wasn’t his usual scary. It was beyond that. His hatred for Alex was way over the top. He knew things—things about her, about Alex and the club, things that no one else knew. It was up to her to warn them, so she gave them the ugly truth.
“The other night, I found Carlos in my room. We—uh—had separate bedrooms. He rarely came into mine, but that night he was waiting for me. I could see he was angry but didn’t know why, until I saw what was in his hands. He’d gone through my drawers—that’s where I hid my pictures.” Her eyes darted to Alex. “He found the one of us, from the day we took Petal to the zoo. He accused me of being in love with you, said things about you, about the club, and I—well, I just lost it.” Tears threatened, and she blinked them back. “I’d had a bad day. All I could think about was home. The only privacy I had was my room, and there he was, invading it. I—”
Alex cut her off. “Please tell me he didn’t rape you.”
Steele’s eyes shot to his cousin, his face twisting into a scary mask of rage. “What the fuck?”
Anger welled from deep inside, and that anger made her snap, “I don’t know, Alex, you tell me, is it considered rape when you don’t want it but are too scared to say no?”
Steele let out a loud curse. Alex bolted to his feet and shot like lightning across the room, where he slammed his fist through the wall. This was followed by more cursing.
Flooded by regret, Sage stared at the hole in the wall. She shouldn’t have told them.
Alex started for the door. When she realized he was leaving, she called after him, “Alex, please, I didn’t mean it like that—”
He stopped with his hand on the door. His head turned, and her breath caught at the fury in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His brow rose, his mouth twisting in anger. “Yeah? It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”
Her heart surged into her throat as she watched him walk out the door.
_______________
Sage’s words played through Ax’s head as he made his way through the downstairs and out the back door.
Is it rape when you don’t want it but are too scared to say no?
That motherfucking dick, that fucking, fucking dick. Helpless rage coursed through his bloodstream as he stalked across the lawn and into the back barn. Five steps in, he spotted the pickaxe laying on the ground. Carlos Diez is going down, he thought as he plucked it from the dusty floor and hurled it across the barn. Next went the hammer, followed by the entire set of tools.
“Weak throw,” a voice from behind him called out.
Ax swung around to find Ink leaning against the doorjamb.
Ink was a prospect when Ax was in high school. At the time, he owned the hottest tattoo joint in town called BR-Ink. People had to wait at least six months to get an appointment. Ax never understood why Ink joined the club. The guy was an artist, a pretty-boy who’d never sat on a bike, much less knew dick about club life. He figured it had something to do with Grizz’s plight to steer the club away from drugs and guns and onto a more legitimate path. Rumor had it that Ink was in trouble and Grizz was his way out. Trouble or not, a deal was made, and when Ink became a prospect, BR-Ink was turned over to the club. To this day, it was one of their highest paying businesses. Ax knew Ink as much as anyone knew Ink, which wasn’t much at all because the guy was locked up tighter than a nun’s pussy.
“Fuck off,” Ax grumbled.
Ink pointed at the ground. “You missed a screwdriver.” At Ax’s glare, he held up his hands. “Hey, don’t kill the messenger; I’m just here to tell you that breakfast is ready.”
Shit. Ax didn’t want to go back inside. He didn’t want to face Sage again, to see her gorgeous face marred by those horrific bruises, and be reminded of what that fucker had done to her.
“Or, I can stand here