Page 73 of Retribution
“Yeah—Brute and Breaker are dealin’ with ’em now.”
Cobra licked his lips, hating the idea of leaving his baby tied up in the basement, uncomfortable and terrified while she waited for him. He breathed out a slow breath then jammed his free hand around the back of Big Pat’s beefy neck.
“You piece of shit!” Cobra yelled as he threw the man halfway across the room.
Big Pat landed against a lampstand before sprawling into a heap as the lamp crashed on top of him. Before the asshole could draw a breath to say anything else, Cobra buried the steel toe of his boots into the jerk’s ribcage again and again and again.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” Cobra yelled, delivering a kick to a different part of the loser’s body with every word. “Fuckin’ tell me. Now!”
“Okay, please,” Big Pat sniveled. He was curled up on the ground like a little damn pussy as he tried to protect himself.
Fucking pathetic.“I don’t stop until you tell me what the fuck you did to her.”
“I gave her a dose of GHB to keep her quiet—that was it. Nothing else. I swear I never fuckin’ touched a hair on her head, and I didn’t let the others guys mess with her.”
“This may be a surprise, but I don’t fuckin’ believe you.” Cobra yanked the asshole’s head back and spit in his face, racking his bowie knife so it cut through the man and grazed enough of his chest to draw blood.
“Goddammit, I swear. No offense, but your chick’s not my type. I love big tits, and hers are too small, and her hips are—”
Cobra grabbed the bastard by the hair and rammed his fist repeatedly into Big Pat’s face until blood covered his knuckles. The guy’s head lulled in Cobra’s hold, his neck like jelly.
“I didn’t touch her,” Big Pat moaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
“I’m done with this shit,” Cobra growled.
“Let me at him,” Iron said. “You go get your woman. I’ve been wanting to waste this bastard since Lolo.”
Cobra nodded and gave Big Pat one final kick. Iron whistled as he strolled over to Big Pat who was bleeding on the richly patterned Karastan rug as if this was any ordinary weekday night.
Cobra sheathed his blade and didn’t waste time running to the basement door and bolting down the stairs to Dakota.
“Fuck,” Cobra said as his gaze fell on his beautiful woman lying on the concrete floor against the far wall. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so fuckin’ sorry this happened to you.”
For a second, all he could do was stand there and look at the terror etched across her face even as she slept in a drugged coma. His eyes skimmed over her: her tank top was pulled up on one side, she was barefoot, her arms and legs were swollen as hell. Cobra rushed over to her and started cutting at the ropes.
It wasn’t until he had her arms free that he saw the corpse stuffed in the corner perpendicular to Dakota. It was the asshole who’d assaulted her at Duffy’s. The hole in the middle of his forehead pleased Cobra to no end. He turned away and worked on cutting away the restraints around her legs.
Cobra’s heart physically hurt to watch her squirm and wiggle out of his hold even in her sleep. Dakota was thirty shades of gone to the world and she was still trying to get away from who she thought might be her attackers. When he traced a slow hand down her cheek, she moaned and turned away.
“Goddammit!” Cobra closed his eyes and took a breath, not willing to pick her up until she knew she wasn’t in any more danger. “Sweetheart, can you hear me? Do you hear me? It’s Cobra. I’m here. I came for you just like I said I would. You’re safe now, and nothing’s gonna hurt you again. I’m taking you home now.”
He whispered the words into her ear, and she must’ve heard and understood something because Dakota groaned back at him, her fingers spasming against her shorts. Good enough for him. They had to get out of there before someone called the badges. Cobra took a deep breath and shifted so that his arm went under her butt and another under her shoulders, lifting her up from the floor.
Dakota sank into his arms, small and weighing barely nothing, as her head curled into his chest and he kissed the top of it.
“Yes, that’s it, sweetheart. I’m here—I’ve got you.”
Cobra carefully climbed the stairs, every move forward making him feel as if he were slogging through mud as his head cleared from the shit that had gone down that night.
“You good?” Iron eased up to him looking down at Dakota in Cobra’s arms.
“I need to take her away from here. You take care of that fucker?”
“Yep.”
“You gonna get rid of the bodies?”
“That’s the plan. I’ll go get the truck then you can make her comfortable in the back cab while Brute, Breaker, and I wrap the bodies in tarp. We’ll get rid of them on the drive back to Missoula.” They’d come in the truck that the club parked at Gary’s house. He was an old dude who used to be an active member of the MC but retired for health reasons a few years before.
