He cocked an eyebrow, challenging me.
“Martinez wouldn’t be happy about that. Trust me. I would know more than anyone what makes him happy,” Briggs warned.
My eyes immediately went from him to her, confused with what she just shared. She sounded like she had been his fucking whore.
I took a deep breath, willing my emotions in check, but she wasn’t making it easy on me by any means.
His glare met hers and he specified, “Forty thousand dollars a kilo.”
She laughed even though there wasn’t anything fucking funny about the situation.
“Jesus Christ, Hector, take a girl to dinner before you try to fuck her up the ass.”
“If that’s all it takes, I’ll make reservations for you and I tonight.”
“Twenty-eight thousand and not a dollar over,” she ignored his comment, and all I saw was fucking red.
He stood, his hands still firmly placed on the table in front of him, now hovering above it.
“The only way I’ll settle for twenty-eight thousand,” he murmured loud enough for me to hear, “is if it includes your * and your mouth wrapped around my cock. I’ll even let that little cocksucker over there watch.”
“AUSTIN, NO!”
Before Briggs even got the last word out, I was charging and roughly body checking the motherfucker over the chair and onto the concrete floor. We both hit it hard, rolling away from the table.
My body on top of his.
“YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT!” I roared, gripping his head and slamming it onto the ground.
His body immediately went lax. I didn’t falter, I straddled his waist, punching him in the face repeatedly. One fist after the other connected with his mangled face.
“AUSTIN, NO! STOP!” Briggs screamed, bloody murder.
I ignored her and continued my assault on the fat fuck’s face and body. Beating him within inch of his life. Showing him no fucking mercy.
I felt Briggs’ hands, ripping at my shirt trying to pry me off of him. I could hear her screaming, but the rage was too strong. The fat fuck wanted her to show up alone because he wanted to fucking rape her. He wanted to hurt what was mine. That’s why he wanted me to leave.
“AUSTIN, STOP! PLEASE!”
I don’t know if it was the drugs that were coursing through my system or the fact that she didn’t give a fuck that he was disrespecting her in front of me. Or it may have been that Martinez put her in this goddamn situation in the first place. Where she could have ended up raped or so help me God something fucking worse.
But I stopped and stood up.
“Who's the cocksucker now, motherfucker?”
Pulling out my gun, I aimed it directly in front of his fucking face.
<>Briggs<>
It was like Deja vu.
For a second I thought I was fifteen years old and back in my room. Witnessing that hell all over again. Except this time it wasn’t my ruthless, corrupt, murdering uncle.
This was Austin.
My Austin.
He looked fucking crazed. I had never seen him like that before, and it was scary as hell.
“Austin…” I coaxed, gently settling my hand over his that was still placed on the gun. “Give me the gun. You’re not a murderer. Now, give me the gun.”
“What do you think he was going to fucking do if you had shown up by yourself? Why do you think he wanted me to leave? Huh?” he argued with a dark tone in his voice I’d never heard before.
“It doesn’t matter. You were here. Now, put the gun away or give it to me.”
He peered back and forth between us.
“Austin, we have like five minutes to get the fuck out of here before this place is swarming with cops or worse, his men. I guarantee you there are cameras in this fucking warehouse. We need to go,” I ordered. “Now get your shit together and put away your damn gun. You already did plenty of damage.”
He took a deep breath and placed the gun back in his holster. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Come on.” I grabbed his hand, pulling him with me. Austin spit in his face before he came with me.
We ran out to the car. He put it in drive before I even had a chance to close my door.
“Jesus Christ, Austin!” I screamed, smacking my hands on the dashboard. “You have no fucking idea what you’ve just done. You don’t know who you just fucked with.”
And I wasn’t talking about Hector.
He just drove ignoring my statement, white knuckling the steering wheel. His hands were still bloody from the brutal assault, and I resisted the urge to ask him if he was okay.
We got stuck in over an hour-and-a-half of traffic, a horrible car accident blocking up all the roads. Which only made me dwell more on the fact of what I knew would come of this. By the time we made it back to the hotel room I had the worst feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew the worst was still yet to come, and his name was Alejandro Martinez. And that scared me more than anything. I wasn’t ready for any of it.