Page 2 of Property of Rattler

“Bring him down,” the man at the top of the stairs barks.

I feel a harsh punch to my back, and then I’m falling through the air, my already injured ankle the least of my worries. I bump hard off the wall on the way down, landing headfirst. Stunned, with the breath startled out of me, I only have a chance to realise that, while I’ve survived, my reprieve is likely only momentary. My limbs are immobilised as my wrists and ankles are clamped together. For good measure, they hogtie me.

At least I’m not dead.I take comfort in the only positive.

“Where is she?” is barked at me.

Awkwardly trying to roll to face the speaker, I recognise the family resemblance at once. The same piercing blue eyes, which on him look ugly, but on her, pretty. The curvature of the mouth, which on her is kissable. On his? I’d punch it instead. The blond hair, his military short, hers wavy and long enough that I’d be able to wrap my hands around it while fucking her from behind—not that I ever got the chance, though perhaps that image is a last pleasant thought to take with me to my grave.

His question at last gets through my fucked-up and probably concussed head.My one assigned duty is to protect her.I stay quiet.

His kick to my ribs tries to hurry my answer.

Again, I spit out blood. “I’ve no fuckin’ idea. She left and went AWOL days ago.”

Kings, hurry the fuck up.Though I know it’s only a vain hope that they get here in time to rescue me. At least, if I can keep him talking, it will stop him from trying to search for her. Hopefully, by now, she’s far away.

It seems like I’ve been fighting this battle for hours, but I know in reality, only minutes have passed.Girl, get those running shoes moving.

My answer hasn’t satisfied him. Now I get a boot to my stomach, and again my breath is stolen. I try to roll over as I vomit, only to be kicked over again onto my back. Sick wells out of my mouth and covers my face, making me choke.

“I take it, you’re Flynn Ellington. I’d like to say it’s nice to meet my brother-in-law. But seeing as you fucked up my plans, I can’t.”

“Fuck you,” is all I can manage.

He chuckles. “You think I’m going to kill you? Well, you’re right. But I know my sister. She’s got a soft heart. And even if the marriage isn’t fucking real, and I truly doubt that it is. I mean, what would she see in someone like you?” I can’t contradict him. I’m the last person she’d willingly marry. Yet she did. He continues, “She’ll not want to know you’re going to die in her place.”

“Boss? We’ve got to get moving. There’s company coming.”

He only gives a slight raise of his chin in acknowledgment of his man’s warning, then is completely emotionless as he tells me, “I’m going to kill you, but not here, not now. I’ll be sending you back to my dear sister one body part at a time until she comes back to me. Which she will.”

“Fuck you.” I’m worried that he’s right. His sister does have a soft heart, and whatever bad terms we left on, she wouldn’t want me to suffer. Hopefully, my brothers will prevent her from sacrificing herself. Me? I’m not worth it. She could do far better.

“Get him in the car. We’re out of here.”

I’m roughly dragged out, only vaguely noticing they’re scooping up their injured, leaving the few I’d managed to kill where they fell as if they’re of no consequence. After what his sister had told me, I’m not even surprised. Kings would never leave a man behind, whether he was breathing or not.

Stone? He’s a monster.

I’m not brave. I’m fucking terrified. Me and pain don’t have a good relationship. But would I give her up to save my life? Fuck no. Whatever he does to me, I’ll stay quiet.

And now, when it’s too late, I realise I’d gotten it all wrong. I’m not incapable of love at all. Now I’ll never be able to tell her I’ve already fallen hard.

CHAPTER TWO

RATTLER

TWO MONTHS AGO

Why the fuck does it have to be me?

I’d been enjoying Freak and Trixie’s wedding—well, at least the after-party, reception, or whatever the fuck it’s supposed to be. Why any brother would want to get tied down to a bitch is beyond me, and as for Freak actually wifing a club girl—unfuckingbelievable. We’ve all had a share of Trixie’s pussy, not much to write home about as far as I’m concerned, and certainly not in the first flush of youth. Yet he made her his old lady, then put a ring on her finger. How much crazier can a man get?

There had been laughs, though. During the ceremony, fucking Words, who runs our funeral home and is an ordained officiant, conducted the wedding as though it was a memorial service. Fucking ace. I damn near split my sides laughing. Part of me hoped Freak would lose his shit, but surprisingly, he kept it together. Me? I’d high-fived Words when I’d passed himlater. That was some shit. It made sitting in that damn marquee worthwhile.

Whatever, I’d been drinking, smoking a toke with my brothers, my eye firmly fixed on the youngest club whore, Star, as an option for the night. I’d been about to approach her before any of the out-of-state brothers, who’d turned up to witness the wedding, got any ideas about monopolising her. They could use their hands, or even each other, as far as I was concerned. Star, she was going to be all mine for a few hours. But just as I was going to make my move, my phone rang.

The caller? Fucking Joe, the head bartender at Royals, the strip club the Arizona chapter of the Kings of Anarchy owned. I was one of the four members who worked there regularly, alongside Freak, who ostensibly managed the place, Stalker, who as far as I could see did most of the actual day-to-day work, and Paint, who was security, come bouncer and jack-of-all-trades, just like me.