Page 114 of Tormented
“It’s a double-headed attack.”
“How so?”
King jerks his head toward his office. “Take this somewhere less open, shall we?”
Abbey watches from where she now sits at the bar as King and I cross the common room to his office. I start to smile to ease her mind, but it quickly becomes something a whole lot less friendly when I see the fucker who’s working the bar—Dog—copping an eyeful of her tits while she’s distracted.
She frowns as I change course. Dog looks up with a fair amount of panic painted across his pierced features, yet I’m stonewalled by fucking King blocking my path.
“Office. Business first.”
“You didn’t see the way this greasy fucker was eyeballin’ her,” I complain. “Where’s the respect, huh?” I shout across to the young blood.
“I did see,” King growls, shoving me backward. “And so did she. It’s nothin’ he hasn’t been doing for fuckin’ months while you’ve been anywhere but here—physically and mentally.”
Fuck it. He’s right. I don’t know what goes down here day to day. I’ve never been involved with the business side of things until this shit with my old man blew up, always choosing to live on the road, keeping my hands dirty for whoever offered the right price. I couldn’t have cared less—until he threatened my family—what he was doing to anyone else. I’ve been here, but not here at the same time.
So you’re going to let him get away with it . . . .
No choice, old buddy.
Ducking my head, I let King manhandle me back into his office. My ass hits the seat with a whoosh as the air gets crushed out of the cushion. The slam of his door echoes around the room as he strides to his side of the enormous desk.
“What the fuck was that?”
“Me?” I try deflecting with a joke.
He stares me down, one hand absently stroking his beard.
“I was kiddin’ when I said she must have had a crush on you. Shit man, we all know that Abbey is volatile when provoked, but she’s also quiet as a damn mouse.” He jabs one hand toward the closed door, other on his hip. “You messin’ with her?”
“Depends what you classify as ‘messin.’”
“What the fuck have you done?”
His fatherly tone annoys the ever-loving shit out of me. “Nothing she didn’t fuckin’ beg for,” I rumble back.
“That was uncalled for,” King levels, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah? Well so is you questioning what’s goin’ on between me and Abbey.” I push out of the chair and stand, matching his stance. “She’s a woman who can make her own choices.”
“Evidently the wrong ones.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think it means?” King shouts. “She’s fragile, broken. She’s fuckin’ scarred. And you . . . .”
“I’m what?”
Give it to him . . . . My devil scoots to the edge of his seat.
“You’re not the balance she needs.”
Sucker punch right to the gut. “You self-righteous assholes all sound the same,” I sneer. “You, Hooch, and Tap. You all think you’ve got some fuckin’ magic insight into what she needs, but none of you want to accept the truth.”
“Which is?” he challenges.
“That Abbey the woman is nothing like Abbey the kid who first came here. But you bastards keep drillin’ lies into her, tellin’ her she’ll never be anything but socially awkward and a fuckin’ failure at life, and she believes it. She thinks she’s still that wild fuckin’ kid from ten years ago, but she’s not.” I pause, chest heaving as I catch my breath. “She’s so much more.”