Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance - Riley Rollins Page 0,18

got the discretion to do what the fuck I want, and what I want is to kick this asshole out.

So I do, and it all happens in a blur.

Penny stands aside and watches from a distance as I push her boyfriend toward the rear exit behind the stage. The other dancer in the room side-eyes us as I force the cocksucker toward the door. He resists, so I give him a hard shove against the crashbar latch, opening the door with his body. The paint is nearly all scraped off and the door is dented all over, battle damage from thousands of customers being pushed out into the alley over the decades. This shithead is just the latest in a long line of evictees.

We emerge into the afternoon sunlight in the alley. I twist my body and kick the door closed, locking it shut. There's no handle on the outside. This fucker won't be going back in.

"Walk away, fuckface," I tell him. But he's too stupid to listen. Instead, he steps closer to me, trying to intimidate me.

"I remember you, asshole," he says.

"I remember you, too," I say. "You beat up on girls."

"So maybe I'll beat up on you," he says, cocking his head and stepping even closer. Our noses are inches apart.

I shrug. "Fucking try."

He raises his arm to swing, telegraphing the punch from miles away, the sign of a man who's got no clue how to fight.

I don't even bother blocking the punch. I just step back with one foot, bring my head and torso back, and then slam my head into his face with a brutal headbutt.

There's a savage cracking noise, and I immediately know I broke his nose. But then he stumbles backwards, his eyes rolling back into his head.

He falls, crashing down hard, and the back of his skull bounces off the lid of a metal trashcan behind him. Blood pours out of his nose, forming a crimson pool on the hot asphalt beside him. His wrists and arms rotate inward, like he's having a seizure.

I'm no doctor, but I've been around the block long enough to know what that means.

Severe brain damage.

A few seconds later, he stops moving and goes limp.

Behind me, the door swings open with a thud. I turn around, and it's Penny, topless in red lace panties. My dick's hard in my pants, and I don't quite know whether it's because of her or the thrill of the kill.

She looks at the dead scumbag on the ground, then back at me, and then she screams.

13

Penny

I let out a bloodcurdling shriek, then clap my hands over my mouth. Brock's body lies on the gravelly, sun-cracked asphalt, a pool of blood growing around his head. Havok watches, his face as emotionless as a mannequin's.

"What did you do?" I cry out. I can hardly process the thoughts and feelings running through my head right now. The way he's lying there with his eyes wide open, he's obviously dead. My life has changed in an instant. I'm finally free from him.

But he's just been murdered.

Havok turns to me with a look of urgency. "Listen," he says. "We're in broad daylight. We have to move fast."

My head spins, and I feel dizzy and sick. "But you killed him."

Havok steps toward me, balling his fists. "Quiet," he growls. "You want us both in prison?"

I gulp.

"Go in the kitchen. Get gloves. And all the bleach you can carry."

"B-but, it was an accident," I stutter. "Shouldn't we c-call the police?"

Havok looks incredulous. "You think they'll buy that?" Blood steadily flows out Brock's nose and ears. "Bullshit," he says. "Go. Now."

So many questions swirl in my mind. Was this really an accident? Why's he so worried about the cops? And what the hell am I going to do?

But I don't dare disobey. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach that if I do, I'll be next.

But I'm still topless, and the back door is latched shut.

"I can't," I protest. "I can't go around front like this."

Havok's eyes dart over my body, and I swear they linger on my breasts longer than they should, considering the circumstances.

"Goddamnit," he says. "Wait here. Don't fucking touch anything."

"What if someone comes?"

"Don't let anyone see," he says with a death glare. He walks away from me, hurrying down the alley toward the club's main entrance. He looks over his shoulder once, as if to make sure I'm staying put.

I can't believe this is actually happening, or that I'm staying here and guarding a dead