Page 28 of Beautiful Things Obey
Grabbing his leg, I dig the cigarette into his skin, directly above the bullet wound, grinding it in deep. He screams and lashes out at me, attempting to slap me across the cheek.
“Do not lay a fucking hand on her, or I will take your head,” Silas’s dark voice growls behind me.
The wounded man seems to understand the warning and stops.
He grits his teeth together. “The bitch shot me.”
“You behave like an asshole, then you get punished like an asshole,” Silas says matter-of-factly.
“You need to learn how to treat a woman,” I add. “Consider that lesson number one.”
“You fucking whore…” he snarls, saliva running down his chin as he groans in pain. The hot blood running through my veins doesn’t lose its edge, but because of Silas’s words, I’m brought back to a more controlled version of myself. Or maybe it has to do with how pathetically this man grovels on the floor.
I swing my attention back to Silas. “Are these the type of men you associate with, ones who hurt women?”
“No.”
“No?” I cross my arms over my chest. Because I certainly imagine this is one of his men. He might act like a gentleman, but it would appear that the men who work for him are still just pigs.
A smile seems to dance on Silas’s lips as he says, “You’re a woman who trusts actions more than words.”
“I don’t trust any word from a man’s mouth.” I learned that the hard way.
“Then you’re a smart woman.” He winks, then lifts his gun, and while dark eyes remain on me, he shoots the man. The blubbering stops. I arch an eyebrow, surprised and equally impressed. Silas is a man of deliberate action. Without hesitation, he just killed one of his own men.
“Guess you best get back to work,” he says. “Looks like you’ll have a body coming in soon.”
It goes without saying that he also just covered my ass because I don’t have the sway that he does over this city. If I’d killed him so publicly, while losing it, I’d be fucked. But those rules are applied differently to these men.
Although I can certainly be creative in how to make someone disappear, I’m best kept in the shadows. I wasn’t in my right mind just now, and I never thought the person who would pull me back to the edge of reason would be one of the most ruthless killers I’ve ever met.
Silas walks away without even glancing at the dead man on the floor. But I do. Silas’s bullet got him right between the eyes.
I should be shocked. Horrified, even. Because it’s one thing to want to shoot someone for the pain they’ve inflicted on someone you love, but shooting someone without even breaking a sweat is something else entirely.
When I look back at Silas, he’s standing with the owner of the club. A man in his sixties in a too-tight suit and dripping in gold jewelry. He looks like he’s part of the Nero crew. They do, after all, own all the strip clubs in Boston.
Silas pulls an envelope from his pocket. “Pay all your staff to stay silent and send them home.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” the man says, not with an ounce of authority. It sounds more like he’s scared. I’ve noticed, in the way of the bodies coming across my table, that Silas has been targeting Nero’s crew. They all cross my table with the same branded tattoo.
Only Silas would be so ballsy as to walk in here like he owns the club. Or maybe he really wasn’t here because I was. Maybe he’s here on business, trying to find more information.
I shake my head because I don’t care. Until he needs me, I’m not looking into his politics any further. Because that would mean I care. And I don’t do that.
The boss looks at the envelope, then nods before telling everyone to leave. I walk over to where Nessa sits on a lounge, holding her head. Soph sits beside her, tenderly rubbing her back.
I try to let all that adrenaline crash to the wayside. It’s not entirely gone, but I focus on what’s most important. Nessa. She’s okay. She’s alive.
I kneel in front of Nessa. “You okay, honey?”
She’s been crying. She has panda eyes, and her makeup is streaked down her face.
“Is he dead?” she asks, her voice detached.
“Yes,” I reply.
Her chin quivers. I think she’s about to yell at me again about needing this job, but instead, she says, “Good.”
