“Off.”
Jimmy froze and then he smirked. “You playing that game again? You think I don’t know it’s not loaded? You don’t have what it takes. You never did. That’s why you never fit in with the Brethren. And deep down you’ll never shoot me. I’m the man who saved you from the streets, gave you a home, a life, a job, discipline, two sniveling brats, and all the fucking you couldn’t handle.”
“Last time. Off.” She felt different holding a loaded gun. Resolved. And Jimmy could clearly see the difference.
He sighed and pushed himself up, his belt still dangling from his grip. “Okay. I’m off. Now give me the gun before someone gets hurt.”
Dawn scrambled to her feet. “Out.”
Too late she saw the danger. His hand shot out and he cracked his belt, whipping it across her bare arm. The violent sting of leather on her exposed skin made her gasp and she lost her grip on the gun.
Crack. He struck again, this time whipping the belt over her wrist. Pain fuzzed her brain and her hand wavered.
“Stop, Jimmy. Stop. I dropped the gun.”
But Jimmy never stopped. No matter how hard she begged, he never stopped until he was sated or she was unconscious, or both. He yanked a blade from beneath his cut and raised his arm to whip her again. “Gonna mark you, bitch. Gonna carve my initials into those pretty cheeks so no one will ever mess with my property again.”
Heart pounding, she ran at him, using momentum to knock him off his feet. Jimmy stumbled over the coffee table, falling heavily to the ground. The belt fell from one hand and the blade fell from the other.
“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna be sorry for that.”
Dawn threw herself forward and grabbed the knife. Acting purely on instinct, she stabbed the blade into his thigh.
Jimmy screamed. The world slowed. She released the blade and backed away as Jimmy’s face twisted into a mask of horror.
“Fucking bitch. You stabbed me.” He grabbed his leg with one hand and pulled his phone out of his cut with the other.
“Drop it.” Dawn grabbed her gun from the floor and pointed it at Jimmy. “It is loaded. If you look closely, you’ll see the magazine.”
He stared at her for a long second, and then he placed the phone on the floor. “Christ. The Sinners have turned you. Little Dee carrying a loaded gun. Have they made you into a killer, too? Are you ready to pull that trigger?”
“You want to take that risk? Look what I just did to your leg. You think I won’t do that to your head after everything you did to me? Throw the phone to me.”
“Crazy bitch. You want me to bleed out all over your floor?” With a snarl, he threw the phone and Dawn kicked it away.
Sweat beaded her forehead as she contemplated the wounded man in front of her. She hated Jimmy, had imagined having him at her mercy countless times, although in every scenario he died and she lived with her girls happily ever after. But now that the moment was here, she knew she would never be able to live with herself if he died because of her. He needed medical attention but no way could she call the Brethren and tell them she’d stabbed one of their brothers.
As if he sensed her confusion, Jimmy softened his voice and tilted his head to the side. “I need your help or I’m gonna bleed to death. How many years were we together? You gonna let the father of your children die?”
She took a step forward and then caught herself. He wasn’t bleeding that badly, which meant she hadn’t hit any major veins or arteries, and he wasn’t screaming the way he had years ago when he’d taken a shot in the leg that had hit a bone. Her stomach knotted at the idea of someone in pain—even him—but she knew better than to trust him. 911 wasn’t an option unless she wanted to go to jail for stabbing him and carrying what she was damn sure was a stolen gun.
Jimmy groaned and clutched his leg. “I know you’re pissed at me, but I promise things will be different this time. I’m gonna be president of the Brethren. I won’t have to do things I don’t wanna do and I won’t be answering to no one. We’ll get a big house with a yard for the girls. We’ll be a family, just like you always wanted.”
*