“I’ll see that this gets delivered. Once the bitch is satisfied that patch is yours. We’ll do it up big. Invite the other chapters and shit. your old man would be proud, boy.”
My father would be disgusted by what this club has become. I keep that thought to myself.
**
Later that night
In Sybil’s apartment I search for her cell phone. Lucky for me I find it on the coffee table and when I plug it in and power it up there is no password needed. Like I suspected that wimpy fucking weasel pulled some shit. Sybil wasn’t making sense when I questioned her about it this morning, but she was under the influence of the narcotics I shot her up with. There are several messages dating back to a few days ago.
Jesus – Please talk to me, Sybi.
I didn’t mean any of what happened.
I was upset and out of line.
Just pick up the phone.
I only want to talk.
Can I come over?
S – You’re right. We should talk. Come over?
I fire off the reply after unblocking his number. I get to work after I shut the phone off and shove it in my pocket. Wearing gloves, I set the scene. I knock over a lamp and scoot the couch over a few inches. I pull a shirt from her hamper and rip the collar, tossing it on the couch cushions. Next a pair of her dirty red lace panties are placed precisely on the floor, and I dump the vial of her blood I collected when I did her finger on the couch. That fucker Jesus is going to get what’s coming to him.
Now I wait.
It takes the bastard about twenty minutes to arrive. He knocks and I open the door enough to allow him entry while keeping myself hidden. As soon as he steps foot in the apartment, I slam the door and knock him on the back of the head with the butt of my Beretta 92FS. The fucker starts to fall, but I catch him and ease him down in the yellow high back chair. There’s a scratch on his face. My girl put up a fight. He’ll be wishing for her sweet little body but all he’s going to get is twenty to life when I’m through with him. I play the recording I have of Sybil screaming from the burner phone I bought exactly for this moment so later one of the neighbors will recall hearing a scream. It’s taking my full restraint not to fucking kill him right now for putting his hands on Sybil. For even attempting to claim what’s mine.
She is mine.
All mine.
Perfectly fucking mine.
Her mind simply needs to catch up with her heart and body.
When this is all over, I’m going to put her on the back of my motorcycle and take her far away from here and all the fuckers who failed to protect her. I know how shit appears right now. Like I’m mad. Crazy. Deliriously insane only it’s quite the opposite. I’m in love with Sybil White. She’s mine, and I protect what’s mine. Actions speak louder than words and mine speak volumes. I will go to any length to have her. To keep her safe from those who wish to hurt her.
Sybil can think I’m the bad guy all she wants, but at least with me she’ll be safe.
She’ll be worshipped.
She’ll be loved.
Chapter 11
—Sybil
My head pounds. My pulse hammering against my temples. Blinking my eyes, I struggle to sit up. I glance around the dark room unable to remember where I am. I can’t make out my surroundings. It’s too dark. My throat is dry like it’s stuffed full of cotton. Swallowing is nearly painful. My tongue feels bumpy and rough. I lick my teeth then my lips.
My sight begins to adjust to the darkness. My memory is hazy, but I know I’m not where I last was. I was with him…Diego in that fucking hole. The man who betrayed me. The man who broke my heart.
The phantom sensation of bugs crawling over my skin sends a shiver through me.
The moment those words
left his lips, “You were right…,” my heart cracked in two. God, he had me fooled. Jesus was right. Men like Diego uses girls like me up and tosses us away. Jesus is no better, he is still worse in my eyes. I think I hate them both.