I always thought it was because of me, that I was the reason he had changed. That I was the reason my mom cried at night. I tried to pretend I was happy, hoping that would bring her out of her sadness, but it never worked. I hated myself for what I was doing to her because her new husband didn’t like me.

  Over the next few years, I’d tried everything to be the son Samuel wanted me to be. I thought if I was better, he’d be nice again. But nothing I did helped. If anything, I made things worse.

  I tried to be invisible, staying out of his way, hoping maybe he’d forget about me and treat my mom the way she deserved. If she was happy, then I could live with that, even if it meant I’d lose her.

  It didn’t work. Things got even worse. Instead of hateful words and angry looks, the abusive Samuel started lashing out. It started with just a slap upside the head when he thought I was being stupid, or a shove when he didn’t want me around. I never saw him lay a hand on my mother, though, so I took it all without complaint. Anything to keep it away from her.

  After a while, I thought maybe it was how all fathers treated their sons, how they turned boys into men. I had no clue what was going on and how wrong it was.

  But when I started noticing my mother with similar injuries that I had gotten from Samuel, I knew what he was doing wasn’t right. I just had no idea what to do about it. I needed to find the right way to fix it, and I would, but I had to go about it the right way. We were dealing with an abusive cop, so it had to be handled delicately.

  I needed proof so the other police officers would believe me, but every time I’d see my mother with a bruise or cut, she’d tell me she fell down the stairs or ran into a door. I’d never seen Samuel lay his hands on her, and I doubted going to the station and telling them that one of their own was verbally abusive to his wife would do anything. It would only piss him off even more. And I feared that the marks he left on me wouldn’t be enough to convince them of the type of man he was.

  Not wanting to do anything rash, I waited and I planned. I just took too long. Walking home one night when I was fifteen, I was barely up the stairs to the house when I heard screaming. My mother was crying and begging him to stop. I was stunned and afraid at the same time. I had no idea what to do. And in my fear, I was too late.

  By the time I’d opened the door, everything was quiet. I was stupid to think it was all over and Mom would be sitting in the bathroom, licking her wounds. Instead, Samuel was hovering over my mother’s motionless body. His hands and face were covered with blood, and he had a look of shock on his face, but it was still laced with anger. It was enough for me to know he didn’t regret what he’d done.

  My whole life changed in that instant. I rushed toward him and beat him with a strength, rage, and hatred I never knew a person could possess, let alone a fifteen-year-old kid. I killed him with tools from his own toolbox that were sitting close by. I don’t remember what I beat his face in with, but it didn’t matter. I don’t regret what I did to him; I only regret being too late to save the only woman I ever loved.

  I lost my mother and my childhood that night, along with respect and trust in the law, but I gained something else too. I gained a new family, a loyalty and love from people that are just like me. The Rough Riders saved me and gave me new hope for a life I could have, even if it wasn’t what my mother would have wanted for me.

  So when I hear a girl screaming, begging for help, I know I need to save her. Maybe it’ll give me a little relief or salvation for not being able to save my mother all those years ago.

  The woman isn’t screaming anymore. I can’t even make out any crying, but what I can hear are sounds of a struggle. I know those sounds well, since I hear them regularly. I’m the cause of those sounds most of the time, and they’re usually coming from men.

  Slowing my steps, I take a deep breath. I slow my breathing. I need to have the element of surprise until I’m ready. But first, I need to scope out the situation, know what I’m dealing with.

  Finally, the scene comes into view. There’s a woman on the ground with a man standing over her. I can’t tell who he is, but when I see him kick her in the stomach, it doesn’t matter who he is ’cause he’s about to be a dead man.

  I quietly pull on my leather gloves as I sneak closer, paying close attention to my surroundings and the man standing over the woman. He’s wearing jeans and a plain jacket. He’s got a knife attached to his belt, but I don’t see any other weapons. Even if he does have one hid somewhere I can’t see, it won’t do him much good

  I can tell immediately this woman is not from this part of town. Her clothes are too nice. They don’t look ratty and her shoes have no holes in them. I don’t know why she’s in a place like this, but she could just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Doesn’t matter to me why she’s here, though. Even if she was buying drugs, she doesn’t deserve to get beaten or raped.

  “Now is that any way to treat a lady?” I ask in a chilling voice that’s full of anger and authority. If this guy doesn’t cower before me, he’s a fucking idiot. Even without wearing my cut so he could see my colors, or knowing my reputation, just the sound of menace in my voice should be enough to make him run for the hills.

  Unfortunately for this guy, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. He doesn’t run or even jump after hearing me behind him. Instead, he snorts before turning around and takes me in from head to toe, all the while with a look of defiance in his eyes.

  I recognize him immediately. How could I not with that scar on his face? Looks like I just found my boy, Georgie. And the way I found him makes me want to make him suffer even more when I kill him, because not only is he hurting this woman, but I have a feeling he’s about to prove to me that the rumors we’ve heard about him are true.

  Georgie looks back down at the girl below him and says with a cruel grin, “Good thing she’s not a lady. At least, she won’t be for long.”

  His hand moves to her face and travels down her cheek to her neck, then farther south, toward her chest. I see her cringe—in pain or disgust, or maybe both—and she whimpers, but she doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are closed tightly, for which I’m grateful in this instance. I don’t want her to see what I’m about to do to this man. That hand he has on this beautiful angel will not be attached to his arm much longer.

  Her angelic face is marred in fear, blood, and what looks to be a good bruise forming on her cheek. Turning off all my emotions, everything except my rage, I take the last step forward, putting me in the best position for the pain I’m about to inflict on this piece of shit. I really want to take my time to torture him, but I’m starting to think that’s very unlikely. One, the girl is a witness. I can’t do anything more than save her from him. If I drag it out, that could be used against me. And two, I need to get her to a hospital. I’m not sure what she’s been through or what all her injuries are, but I need to make sure she’s okay.

  Throwing my arm out so fast it’s like a strike from a viper, I pummel his face with a hard right hook. I placed it just right on his chin so he’d fly off to the side, not landing on the girl.

  She quickly rolls to the side before scurrying out of the way, without me even having to tell her. Good girl. It makes me proud that she’s going with the swing of things and not too frightened after all that’s happened. This girl is a strong one.

  As much as I want to go to her, I can’t right now. That time will come, but for now, I focus on him and what I’m going to do. I just hope the girl doesn’t run off in the meantime. I can’t protect her from anything else if I can’t see her. Plus, I’m not ready to let her go just yet. I don’t even want to think about the reason behind that, so I’m just going to say it’s because I want to make sure she gets the medical attention she needs.

  The blow to his face wasn’t hard enough to knock him out, but it was enough to stun him. He’s on his hands and knees now, shaking his head, trying to find some semblance of balance.

  “You make a habit of touchin’ things that don’t belong to you, Georgie?” I say his name so he knows I’m not just someone that happened upon him. I know who he is and what it is he does.

  Looking up at me, I see confusion as to who I am. He still hasn’t put it together. I’m not wearing my cut and I’ve never met him in person. But it doesn’t take long before the confusion is gone and there is pure contempt in his eyes. He doesn’t give a shit who I am, nor does he care about what he’s doing. This man in front of me is the worst kind there is. No matter what you do or what you threaten, he’ll continue doing what he does. No jail time or hospital stay will change that. Guess it’s a good thing I don’t plan to let him live.

  “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are comin’ into my town, but that bitch belonged to me the second she stepped foot on my turf. But if you fuckin’ want her, I’ll sell her to ya real cheap. After I tear that pussy up, of course,” he says, laughing bitterly.

  Grabbing him by the throat, I lift him off the ground so far that his toes barely scrape the concrete below. “Wrong answer,” I say through gritted teeth. “This town and everythin’ in it is mine.” I look at the girl when I say that last part, and the growl that comes out of my mouth is unrecognizable to even me. It sounds of promise and possession.

  Looking back at Georgie, I shake my head to get images of the girl out of my brain and replace them with images of him bleeding out.

  I don’t have any weapons with me besides my knife; I left everything else on my bike. I usually like to take my prey elsewhere to torture them. But I’m not worried. I can be inventive with a knife when it comes to hurting and killing.

  I’d really hate to get his blood on my good knife, though. So I’ll just use the knife I saw on his belt to kill him. It’s perfect and has me grinning from ear to ear to know he’ll die from his own weapon.

  With my free hand, I’m able to retrieve the knife without losing my hold on him. Flipping it open, I’m a little disappointed with the size of the blade. I honestly thought it’d be bigger. If I were with my brothers, I’m sure one of them would find a ‘that’s what she said’ joke hidden in there somewhere. But it’ll have to do. And lucky for me, I can still make it work in my favor. Not so much Georgie’s, though.

  Prez is going to be pissed that I didn’t question him, but I’ve got all the information I need to know the rumors were true, that this piece of shit has been going behind our backs and selling girls to the highest bidder. I can get any other information I need from someone else.

  So with the knife in hand, I look him in the eyes and see the first spark of fear enter his expression. ’Bout fucking time, dumbass. You should have run the minute you heard my voice. Well, he could have tried to run.

  “I normally like to take my time, so you’ll have to forgive me, Georgie, if this is a little rushed. It’ll be quick, and unfortunately for you, very painful,” I say, smiling cruelly.

  I thrust the small knife into his gut as hard and as deep as I can. I think part of my hand actually entered his stomach cavity. I give a twist for good measure before pulling it out, letting his body drop to the ground like the sack of shit he is. Dropping down to one knee, I hover over him like he was moments earlier with the girl, I get ready to plunge the knife into his neck, when bright lights shine on me and I hear sirens for the first time.

  Well fuck, isn’t this good timing on their part? Acting quickly, I look around and find a gutter. Then, I position my body just right and slide the knife along the road and watch it fall into the sewer below. At least there will be no weapon for them to use as evidence, and they can’t say I used my own since it’s still securely attached to my belt.

  I look at Georgie, who is still on the ground in front of me. I know it’s too much to hope that he’s dead, so I guess I’ll have to find him later to finish the job.

  “Freeze! Put your hands above your head!” I hear an officer yell through a loud speaker.

  Standing to my full height, I turn to see five cops with their guns pointed at me. I have no idea what these dickheads are going to do since I’ve never been in contact with anyone on the right side of the law in this neck of the woods before. If I were back in my town, they wouldn’t even try to pull a gun on me, knowing that I’d put a bullet in their heads before they even had me in their sights. But these assholes? I think I need to see how big their balls are and how far they want to take this.

  Instead of putting my hands up like they ask, I just stand there, looking at them with contempt.

  “I said put your hands above your head!” one of the officers yells out, taking a step toward me. Looks like he’s the bravest of them tonight.

  “Make up your fuckin’ mind. You said freeze. How am I supposed to put my hands on my head when I’m not supposed to move, asshole?”

  Instead of pushing their limits, I decide to comply…for now. We’ll see what happens later, though. I know they don’t have enough to charge me, not without a weapon, so they can only hold me for a day before they’ll have to release me. After that, depending on how they treat me, I’ll decide what to do then.

  As soon as my hands are on my head, I hear another cop shout, “Get down on your knees.”

  Taking my time, I do as they say, but in my head, I’m killing them each slowly. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to put those thoughts into action.

  As soon as I’m on the ground, the cocky cop comes barreling toward me, knocking me over so my face is squished into the pavement. Yup. This asshole is going to die a slow and very painful death at my hands.

  “Don’t fucking move! You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of—”

  “Stop! Don’t hurt him,” I hear over the cop reading me my Miranda rights. Shit, I forgot about the girl—the whole reason I’m in this fucking mess to begin with, but for the life of me, I can’t be angry. At least, not with her. I’m glad I was able to save her tonight.

  Turning my head toward the sound of her voice, I look up into her stunning face. Fuck, she’s got to be the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, and she’s not even trying. She has long blonde hair and piercing, angelic blue eyes. Her face, even though it’s bruised and wet from tears, is still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Please, Officer. It’s not his fault. He saved me,” she pleads to the cop who has his knee digging into my back. He doesn’t know that I could easily overpower him, but I won’t. Not while I’m trying to take in all the beauty in front of me. I couldn’t care less about anything else in this moment.

  “Ms. Hock? Is that you?” one of the cops behind me questions with disbelief and worry clear in his voice.

  I don’t know who this girl is, but from the sound of it, he knows her. I don’t know why that angers me, but it does. Knowing that this fuckhead is familiar with this angel and I’m not makes me want to kill him for that reason alone.

  I may not know who this beautiful woman is yet, but I make a promise to myself that I will, and soon. And then I’m going to take her to bed because she’s just too tempting not to.

  Chapter Three

  Angelica

  I watch as the police officer roughly pulls the man who saved my life to his feet. One side of his face is scratched all to heck from being forced to the ground with more force than was probably necessary. Even though it’s not bleeding that much, it still looks bad in my opinion. I want to rush over to him to make sure he’s all right, but I can’t move. Not out of fear or shock. No, that’s not what stops me. It’s the eyes that are staring back at me.

  His eyes are intense. You would think after what he just did to the man that tried to hurt me, that they would shine with some murderous rage, yet I don’t see any of that in his deep, dark green depths.

  I see concern, awe, and something else I can’t quite name. And, of course, there’s a little irritation, but I think that’s more from the cops than the situation.

  The officer pushes him so his head snaps to the side, breaking our stare, and brings me back to what’s happening. I need to tell them it wasn’t his fault and that he did nothing wrong. I can’t allow this man to get in trouble for what he did for me.

  “Where are you taking him?” I ask, pulling on the arm of the officer that recognized me before. Officer Andrews, I think is his name. He’s at least five years older than me, but I’m sure he only knew who I was because of my father.

  “Ms. Hock, please, don’t worry. We’ll be taking him down to the station. You’re safe now.”

  “But he didn’t do anything wrong. He saved me,” I yell, “from him!” I turn and point at the man lying on the ground motionless. He looks dead, and for the life of me, I can’t find it in myself to care.

  Police officers are hovering over him, checking his wound and looking for a pulse, but I don’t waste much more time looking at him. Instead, I turn back to the officer in front of me, needing to explain that they are arresting the wrong man. Sure, my savior may have killed a man, but it was out of self-defense. Well, in defense of me, but what’s the difference? He shouldn’t be punished for saving my life.

  Before I can get another word in, the man who saved my life is already behind a closed door in the police cruiser that speeds away a moment later. His eyes stay locked on mine, and just before I can no longer see him, I see regret take over his face. Does he wish he never stepped in?

  “Ma’am,” the officer interrupts my thoughts. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but we’ll need you to come with us to give us your official statement of what happened here tonight so we can put both of these men behind bars. They won’t be hurting you or anyone else for a long time,” Officer Andrews says, pity thick in his voice.

  Turning back around at the mention of the man who tried to hurt me, I see him being carted off in an ambulance I didn’t even notice arrive. Is he not dead after all? And is it wrong for me to hope that he is?