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“How does that help me?” the Russian asked. “You agreed to protect me. I need protection!”
“Relax,” the detective said. “This goes the right way, we’re all heroes. And you two will be under new names in new cities and stand no chance of ever being found. As long as you keep yourself clean and clear.”
He used to believe that kind of stuff when the detective spoke. But now…? He knew it was all bullshit. The detective was working for himself. If things happened the way the detective wanted… then what?
“Are we done here?” he asked. “Sitting around like this, talking, what does it get us? Nothing. We see what’s going on.”
“I’m just having fun with my toys here,” the detective said.
“I am not a toy!” the Russian called out.
The detective swung a beer bottle at the Russian and smashed it across the Russian’s forehead. It knocked the Russian right out of the chair.
“I always wanted to do that,” the detective said.
The Russian remained on the floor, dazed, mostly knocked out.
“I guess you can leave,” the detective said.
He stood up and finished his beer. “How long does this go on for?”
“Are you getting scared? I’ll slap cuffs on your wrists right now and take you in.”
“No need for that,” he said. “I’m just talking about a plan. A real plan. You want to do this, you do it now. They’re all weak. Vulnerable.”
“Keep talking,” the detective said.
The Russian on the floor began to mumble.
“The club is at a crossroads,” he said. “There’s too much adding up. Cyrus can’t handle it all. Slade is in love with Nelle. It’s obvious as anything. His eyes are glazed over.”
“How fucking cute,” the detective said.
“Hear me out, man,” he said. “They’re all distracted. And this Russian thing nobody saw coming. This Nelle lady is connected to them. Her sisters and father. That’s why they killed her sisters. They did it. They want her but Cyrus and Slade won’t give her up. It’s a fucking mess. My advice is to—”
He never saw the punch coming. In his mind he was simply pleading for his life. The detective hit him so hard he saw stars and fell into the table.
“Advice from you,” the detective said. “What fucking world do you live in? Huh? I don’t want or need your fucking advice. You’re a scumbag rat outlaw with nobody else in the world but me. You’re already as good as dead. You should just eat a fucking bullet at this point. Have some fucking pride.”
Something snapped in his head as the detective verbally beat the shit out of him. He stood, turned, and lunged for the detective. The only problem was that he saw two detectives. That’s how hard he’d been hit in the face. He chose the wrong detective and ended up hitting his face off the stone fireplace.
That made him stumble back and fall to the floor. Stars danced in front of his eyes. A few blinks later, there was a gun dancing in front of his eyes too. The detective placed a foot to his chest.
“Maybe you’ve served your purpose,” the detective said.
He then pulled the hammer back on the gun…
Chapter Thirty-Five
A Little Backstory
The last time Nelle looked at her phone to check the time it was just before three. The dead of the night. No sounds other than the breathing of Slade as he slept. Something about watching him sleep was just…powerful.
He looked like a sleeping lion. A beast. A monster. A protector. Knowing that with just the softest of touches he would wake, grab her, check on her… and he’d probably fuck her again, then fall right back asleep.
Nelle wasn’t sure she ever truly had been in love before. So she wasn’t even sure if that’s what this was right now. This could have simply been an extension of lust meets need. The fact Slade could eat her clit, nibble her nipples, then offer to kill someone to keep her safe…was that love?
Or maybe that was their version of love.
