Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance - Riley Rollins Page 0,53
come in fucking handy sometimes," I say to Luka. "Let's get this show on the road."
We prepare for war, filling duffel bags with guns and ammo. We all put on bulletproof vests under our jackets, and cram our pockets with as many loaded magazines as we can fit. We load the duffel bags into the back of Luka's Jeep one at a time.
All I can think about is Penny. Those tits that I only got to hold once, that mind of hers that's as gorgeous as her body, that tight-as-fuck pussy that milks my cock dry. I want it all, and no motherfucker is going to stand in my way. Motherfuckers are going to drop left and right tonight. This is the culmination of my training, everything I've learned that's made me who I am today.
And I'm doing it in the service of a woman I love. No, the woman I love. Penny has taught me the true meaning of the word.
Tonight, it's going down. They're not getting an extra second to put their filthy hands on her. Blood is going to pool and congeal. We're going to swim in it, play in it, the rivers are going to run red.
And Penny is going to come out of it without a scratch, so help me God.
41
Penny
When I come to, Mackenzie has my head in her lap. I look up at her, and for some reason she looks prettier, more dignified now than when she's made-up and on stage. She's such a kind soul.
The nape of my neck sings in pain. All of my neck, actually. And it itches deep inside. I crane my neck and scrub it against my shoulder, trying to rub the skin and muscle against one another to relieve the itch, but I can't seem to get it.
"Shh," Mackenzie says, calming me. "It's the chip. We all went through the same thing."
I almost cry, but I'm afraid if I do, it'll make all the other girls in here lose it. So I hold it inside.
I can't believe I've been fucking chipped and tattooed like a piece of property.
"What does the tattoo say?" I ask.
"It's just a number, hon," Mackenzie says. She rocks my head in her lap, almost treating me like a baby. It's strange how comforting it is.
"How long was I out?" I say, but the door opens before Mackenzie can answer me.
Igor enters the room. He's wearing an orange jumpsuit.
He barks at us. "Girls. Get ready for a plane ride. Schedule's moved up."
A voice rises from the huddled girls. "You said tomorrow."
Igor laughs, and it's a cruel one. "Don't fucking worry yourself over what you can't control."
"Where are you taking us?" says Mackenzie.
Igor crosses the room toward us, then belts her across the face, putting the full weight of his body into it. The sound is a combination of a slap plus bones grating together. It's awful. Her hand jerks away from my head. She holds it to her face, and I feel guilty. I'd had the same question.
He should've hit me, not her.
"No more questions," Igor says, addressing the entire group. "Just know it won't be comfortable." He snickers, then he walks to me, and bends down on his knees, inspecting me.
"Especially not for you," he says, sending a streak of fear through my body. "You made a fucking mess out of the processing room."
I summon my strength, and sit up, taking my head out of Mackenzie's lap. I press my hands down into the brown muck coating the floor, and push myself backwards, away from him. Fear radiates from the huddled girls like heat off a red-hot stove. But I know they're selfishly glad that Igor's attention is on me now and not them.
I look past Igor, at the door, foolishly hoping that Havok will walk through like an angel of death, and put a bullet in Igor's back. A bullet he won't even see coming. But Havok isn't the man I thought he was. He's not coming for me.
Igor grabs me by the hair, forcing me to stand.
"Come here," he growls, forcing me ahead of him. My head flops on my neck, exhaustion consuming my body.
Igor pushes me through the hallway, but we stop and turn into an empty room this time. There's nothing inside except for a mattress on the floor.
He turns and locks the door behind us. My body prickles with fear, and I worry that I'm going to pass out again.