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Stealing Amy (Disciples #2)
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They grabbed the wrong girl.
They thought I was his wife, not the woman he’s obsessed with.
Ivan Romanov is one of the Russian mafia’s biggest financial backers.
And he’s been destroying my life piece by piece just to get me in his bed.
I never wanted to be in this situation.
I was doomed. About to be forced by a powerful man who was willing to take what I didn’t want to give.
Then he came, a demon in the dark. A dark voice that told me to be a good girl if I want to live…
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“I simply don’t understand it, Bart. You had everything in the palm of your hand…”
My fist connects again with his body and this time it elicits a muffled screech. That tends to happen when someone’s kidneys have been hit hard enough. It’s strange, for such vital organs, the body sure didn’t keep them hidden inside somewhere safe.
The screams and screeches peter out until I slam my fist against the other kidney. If I was a gambling man, which I’m not, I would say that Bart would be pissing blood for a week if he wasn’t destined to die pretty soon.
“You were a part of the inner circle. You had your mouth on the golden teat! How the fuck could you betray Lucifer?” I ask.
Standing in front of Bart, I shake my head at him. His eyes are wide with terror, and if I’m not mistaken, he pissed himself recently.
“All you had to do was tell Lucifer the Japs had approached you. You could have told him they were trying to pay you off. You know for a fact he would have fixed you up. He always takes care of us!”
I don’t mean to scream that at the end, but Bart has to have known that.
Loyalties have been tested in the past with some of the guys, and every time Lucifer was there to make sure we followed him. To make sure we knew he was as loyal to us as we are to him.
The shrill sound of my phone ringing from my suit pocket stops me from swinging at his eyes. My fist is inches away from his nose when I stop myself.
I grin at him.
Wagging a finger in his eyes, I say, “Not just yet, be right back. You just hang out for me.”
I pull the phone out of the suit jacket I left hanging on the back of the shitty chair in this room. Everything in this shitty room is fucking way past its prime. Then again, if it wasn’t an abandoned old motel out in the middle of nowhere it wouldn’t be so shitty.
“This is Andrew.”
“Andrew, my friend!”
“Harrold, I was going to call you soon… How’re things going?”
“Busy, as you well know. Mr. Lucifer informed me you would be needing my services today. I wanted to see if you had a time frame…”
Winking at a terrified Bart, I say, “Can you meet me at the old motel in about an hour? I won’t be here much longer.”
“I will be there.”
Disconnecting the phone, I put it back in my pocket before I pull the forty-five pistol from my shoulder holster. Bart is shaking now, and that wet spot I saw earlier is growing larger by the second.
The distinct smell of shit erupts in the air as I walk up to Bart and push the barrel of the pistol against his stomach.
“It’s a shitty thing to know exactly how much more time you have left to live. To know you can’t change the certainty of your own death.”
Lowering the pistol towards his crotch, I pull the trigger.
The loud eruption of the gun in this small but tattered room deafens me. It’s a few moments before I’m able to hear his loud screams through the ball gag I have crammed in his mouth.
“You’re going to the afterlife a cockless bastard!” I roar over his screaming.
Aiming at his knee caps, I pull the trigger twice in rapid succession.
One in each knee cap.
The screaming continues for a few seconds before he passes out, his head slumping forward. Pain has a way of breaking everyone. He’s no different than any other pile of shit out there.
Not any more he isn’t.
Fucking little bitch is now one of the commoners. One of the fucking sheep out in the fucking herd that gets to die when the big bad fucking wolves tear his throat out.
There’s a code in this world, it’s an oath to each other that binds us. It’s there to make sure we have each other’s back, no matter what.
What he did… It’s just not done.
We are all hard, battle-tested men who want the most from our role in life. He just threatened that role. He removed himself from being above the common crowd and put himself down in the mud like the rest of the fucking pigs.
Rolling in filth and shit.
Sitting in the chair that my coat hangs on is the small black leather bag I brought into this shitty motel with me. It’s a fucking dump here, and I pray that I don’t get bugs from the shitty room.
Pulling a hypodermic needle out of the bag, I take the bottle of adrenaline out as well. I fill the syringe as I walk over to Bart.
Back when I was in the SEALs, I served as a medic. Normally, I would never pull someone from a blackout like this…. it fucks with the body and will probably hurt his heart and brain pretty bad.