Adrian's Wrath Read online

  “I bet you know just the right thing to do with all those thick inches. Don’t you, big boy?”

  Adrian didn’t bother answering. He couldn’t deny her hand stroking him felt damn good, but that was all it was. Pleasure.

  He had her on her back in the next second. Cock already about to burst, he didn’t want to waste time on foreplay. Her giggle was annoying, but he ignored it. The fact that he was a bastard wasn’t lost on him, but he never declared his love to the females he fucked. They knew what they were getting into and they didn’t care. It was a mutual agreement. That was why these arrangements worked out so well.

  His cock was hard as granite and he needed to get off. That was the only way he was going to be able to press the memories back. To keep them at bay. Her legs opened of their own accord and he glanced down at her pussy. She was wet all right, so wet her cream coated her lips and made a slow trek down the crease of her ass. Positioning himself at the entrance of her pussy, he thrust inside in one swift move. Candy threw her head back and cried out. After that he let himself go. Fast, hard thrusts into her willing body, and he was finding himself getting closer and closer to the edge. Perspiration started to coat his flesh as he focused on the feeling. One image kept coming to his mind. Brea, with her long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and pure innocence that had every protective instinct inside of him roaring out that he claim her. It was like he was a damn caveman. She was dangerous to him and she didn’t even know it. Even after the night he had kept the drunks at bay, she still looked at him with a certain longing in her eyes. There was a feeling inside of him that told him she didn’t realize she looked at him like that, but regardless, it called to something in him. She was bad news for him, and he needed to remember that. He would only end up hurting her in the end. He could never let himself go there again. Adrian couldn’t let himself have feelings for another female. When he opened himself up like that it always ended in devastation. If he let her, Brea would ruin him. That much was a given.

  “Ohhh, yes. Please, harder, Adrian, harder.” Gritting his teeth, Adrian hated that she called him by his first name. He supposed it was a necessary evil, though. He didn’t disappoint her. He pumped faster, slammed his cock into her harder. He gave her what she wanted and more. When he was close, he pulled out and rolled with her so he was on his back. She straddled him backward so her ass faced him. Placing her pussy over his cock, she sank down on a moan. Her cunt wrapped around his cock snugly and he grunted in response. He had to give her credit. She knew how to work it. Swiveling her hips as she moved up and down, Adrian let his orgasm take him into oblivion. When big blue eyes flashed across his closed lids, his orgasm intensified.

  Brea.

  The moan that filled the room was loud and deep. It took him a moment to realize that the sound had come from him. The image of Brea flashed through his mind over and over again. His partner for the night gave one last high-pitched squeal and collapsed off of him and onto the bed. Neither of them moved for several long seconds, and when she had caught her breath she sidled up against him and started running her hands over his arms. No, he couldn’t do the whole cuddle thing after sex. He pushed her off and sat up on the edge of the bed. A light sheen of sweat coated him, and although a shower would have made him feel a lot cleaner and less like a prick, Adrian just wanted to get the fuck out of there. Hanging his head, he closed his eyes.

  He made quick work of getting rid of the condom, putting his clothes on and heading toward the door. Hell, he would have worn himself out using Candy’s body, but the fact that he had thought about Brea while he had fucked someone made him feel like a dirty asshole. He might not know a whole lot about Brea, but what he had found out just intensified his need for her. The way she held herself, spoke, looked at him was so good and wholesome. She personified the word innocence. The idea that she could be a female he lost his heart to wasn’t so far-fetched. She was too good for him. Even though he had only spoken to her that one time, all those weeks ago, he knew that right down to his bitter black heart.

  “What, you’re just going to leave?” He turned around before he opened the motel room door. She pushed herself up on the bed, her tits swaying minutely. “What, you’re one of those ‘fuck ’em and leave ’em’ type of guys?”

  Why did it always have to end like this? “I didn’t promise you anything. When I brought you here you knew exactly what you were getting into.” She pouted more and gave a big huff.

  “Well, I just thought we could go for round two. I mean, I know you have it in you.” One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose as she glanced down at his crotch.

  “Thanks, but no thanks.” He opened the door and left. He always felt like shit afterward, but he would take that to gain a small moment of relief from the memories that haunted him. Because that one moment let him be free from the nightmare that made up what was left of his life.

  Chapter Three

  Brea closed the door behind her, reset the alarm, and tossed her purse onto the small wooden bench by the front door. The alarm beeped three times, alerting her to the fact it was set, and she let a relieved breath fall from her lips. This was how it was every night. Her fear kept a choke hold on her tightly, but it was that fear that kept her heart beating in her chest and the will to survive strong. Her routine was ultimately what would save her life if it came down to it. It was the only way she would allow herself to live. Pushing her negative thoughts aside, she knew she couldn’t let herself go there. Not right now.

  Her feet ached horribly and she smelled like alcohol. It was bad enough working at the club, but when she constantly had drunks hitting on her, trying to grab her ass, and then spilling their beers all over her shirt, it made it ten times worse. She pulled the wad of cash out and let herself collapse on the bench. Unfolding the bills, she started to count her tips for the night. The majority were ones, but there were a few fives thrown in. Eighty-seven bucks—not too bad for a Wednesday night. She forced herself to get up and headed into the small kitchen. The light she turned on illuminated the yellow, fading linoleum and brown laminated cupboards. Her tiny green fridge was straight out of the seventies, but then again so was everything in this house. The rent was cheap and he wouldn’t think to look for her in such a rundown part of town if he found her. It gave her a small amount of safety, but what had sealed the deal was the alarm system that the landlord had installed. Apparently the majority of the houses on this street had one. The neighborhood didn’t frighten her. It was the other things in the world that did. She could handle a few misguided teenagers that liked to vandalize things if it meant he might not know where she was.

  How she wished she could just go one night without thinking about him. Maybe she could have moved on by now if not for the fact that his last parting words still haunted her, even after all this time.

  “There isn’t a place on this planet that you can run to and I won’t find you. You’ll always come back to me, Brea. I’ll find you again and I’ll make you submit in every way possible. We are meant to be together.”

  Just thinking of Cameron left a bad taste in her mouth and had her stomach in knots. Even though he was so sure she would be back, she hadn’t been. After the last time he had laid his hands on her, had forced her onto that bed, she had made her mind up that she would leave and never look back. She couldn’t if she had any hope of surviving.

  With the wad of cash in her hand she opened the freezer and shoved the frozen veggies and TV dinners out of the way. She grabbed the frosty can of generic coffee and popped the lid off. Inside she pulled out the plastic bag of coffee grounds and set it on the counter. Maybe it wasn’t the best hiding spot, but it was close if she needed it. Shoving the cash at the bottom of the can with the rest of the tips she had earned, she placed the coffee back in and shoved the can in the back of the freezer. The next thing she did, partly out of habit, but mainly out of survival, was walk back out to the front hallway and pull the duffle bag stored beneath the wooden bench out. Inside she double-ch
ecked all her necessary supplies she would need in case she had to make a quick getaway. Extra clothes and shoes, toiletries, a little bit of cash that she didn’t keep in the freezer in case she couldn’t get to it, important documents, and the one thing that might be the only thing that saved her life. A Colt .45 that her father had given her before he passed away.

  She held the revolver in her palm, the weight substantial. The ivory handle was worn, but when the light hit it there was still a slight shine to it. The metal was cold, but she knew if she continued to hold it long enough it would warm her flesh. It never failed. Whenever she held this gun she instantly felt safer. Why she hadn’t used it on Cameron all those times he hit her, all those times he threatened her, was still lost on her. She could blame the fear he inflicted on her, but she knew deep down she was a coward. That was until this last time. She knew she would never be afraid to use it on him again.

  Opening the chamber, Brea checked to make sure the bullets were ready to go. Checking her duffle every night might have seemed repetitive to others, but this was Brea’s life, and she needed to make sure everything was in order in case Cameron did find her, which she didn’t doubt he would. He always found her.

  Before heading into her room for the night, she made sure the doors were locked, the alarm system was in fact engaged, and her car keys were easy to reach. She was tired, mentally and physically. Honestly, she had no idea how much longer she could go through this. Constantly looking over her shoulder had her perpetually on edge and never at rest.

  “Just a little bit longer and I can finally be free.” She knew if she left the country she would have a better chance of finally being free of Cameron. At least she was smart enough this time to actually change her last name.

  After a shower so hot she felt like her skin would peel off, Brea wrapped a towel around her body and ran her hand over the fogged-over mirror. The woman that stared back at her looked pathetic. Blue eyes that looked far too big on her face had dark circles underneath. Her blonde hair looked darker now that it was wet, but she knew even dry it was dull and lifeless. Just like her life now.

  She slipped her pajamas on and turned off her bedroom light, bathing the room in darkness and shadows. The room she slept in was cold and dark, but it was hers, for the time being anyway. She stood there a moment, feeling her anxiety spike, but closing her eyes and counting to ten. It was a therapeutic exercise she had adopted years ago, and most of the time it helped her, but there were also times closing her eyes and trying to breathe through it just made it worse. She started to come down from the wave of panic that threatened to consume her. When her strength returned and she was able to open her eyes, she took in her surroundings. Double bed pushed against the wall with worn flowered wallpaper. The lone window in her room was covered in peeling, black-painted metal bars, another accessory that came with the house. She was okay with that. They added to her level of safety.

  “You’re fine. You aren’t back there and he isn’t here.” Yeah, as long as she kept telling herself that everything would be all right. Brea laughed bitterly. If that wasn’t the biggest load of shit she had ever uttered.

  * * * *

  “Hey, Brea.”

  Brea set the empty glass on the rubber mat on the bar and glanced up. Matt, the bartender on Thursday nights handed her two filled glasses of beer and smirked at her.

  “You free Saturday?” She stifled the urge to roll her eyes at yet another one of Matt’s attempts to pick her up. If not for the fact she knew he slept with a different woman every single night, she might have humored the thought of taking note of how attractive he was. His shaggy brown hair hung across his forehead in the latest boy-band style and his whiskey-colored eyes rivaled their most expensive bottle of Jameson.

  “Sorry, I am working.”

  He looked mortally wounded as he placed his hand over his heart. “Shot down again.” He leaned forward on the bar and wagged his brows at her. “If I didn’t know for a fact you truly do work every fucking night I’d think you were purposefully avoiding me.”

  She grabbed the two glasses and set them on her tray, not bothering to hide her smile. Matt was a flirt, but the teasing note in his voice was extremely addictive. “Don’t act like you can’t get any female in this place. In fact”—she turned around but looked over her shoulder—“I know you have.” She didn’t wait to hear his response, not that she would have been able to anyway given the fact the music was so loud her ears rang. She deposited the filled glasses to the customers and made a sweep, taking a few more orders and collecting more empties.

  “Brea. Please come to my office.”

  The voice in her ear was deep and authoritative. Brea adjusted the ear piece that connected every employee with the owner, Tate Wessen. Instantly her heart started to pound. There were only two reasons the boss called an employee into his office. He was either about to fire her or ask her to work underground. Both scared the shit out of her. Matt gave her a nod when she gestured she would be heading in the back to talk to Tate. She hadn’t been the only one to hear Tate’s deep command. Everyone working the floor had heard him. She couldn’t help how her legs slightly shook as she made her way through the thick sea of bodies and toward the steel side door. A big, burly bouncer stood in front of it, and at her arrival he gave a tight nod and let her pass. Once the door was shut behind her all sound from the club ceased. A long, brightly lit hallway stood before her along with another bouncer-guarded door. Once she was through that one as well and the steel closed behind her with a deafening click, she forced herself to breathe.

  Tate’s office was just as intimidating as he was. Dark hardwood and brushed steel covered every square inch. Brea stayed close to the door, although she knew it was false security. Tate would let her leave when he wanted her to. She didn’t know why she felt so uneasy around him. He had been nothing but professional and nice to her, but underneath all of that she sensed something dangerous about him. It was the same thing she sensed inside of Cameron. And that scared the hell out of her.

  “Brea.” Tate glanced up from the stack of papers scattered around his desk. He smiled almost warmly, but Brea wasn’t fooled. She had seen false security from Cameron way too many times to not know what it looked like. He might be one of the most attractive men she had ever seen, what with his short dark hair and amber-colored eyes, but Brea knew a dangerous man when she saw one. Tate was definitely one of those men.

  “Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward the plush black leather chair in front of his steel-and-glass desk. When she was seated in front of him he laced his hands together on top of his desk and watched her. “You like it here, Brea?’

  “Yes, sir.”

  His grin widened and he leaned back in his chair, getting more comfortable. “Please, call me Tate.” Brea nodded but didn’t speak. “You’re one of my best workers. You get along with everyone and I’ve never had a complaint about you.”

  Brea had no clue where this had come from. “Thank you, Tate.” She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She didn’t want to be put in any kind of spotlight. She wanted to go unnoticed. If people started paying attention to her that could cause her a lot of problems.

  “You worked underground before, right?”

  Instantly her heart beat a little faster and her palms started to sweat. “Yes, that’s right.” Throat gone as dry as the desert, Brea already knew what he was going to say. Hell, she had known it was one of two things before she had even set foot in his office.

  “How would you like to work down there permanently?” She didn’t respond right away and he must have sensed her unease. “I know it’s a different crowd down there, but I’ll increase your pay and the tips are far better.”

  Why was he choosing her? There were already waitresses that worked the underground. “I—” After her one night down there when she had freaked out, she assumed she would never be placed in the underground again. Man, had she been wrong.

  “I’ve recently had some issues with
a few of the girls down there”—he paused for a moment before continuing—“distracting the fighters. Those types of distractions tend to cost me money. I need employees that have good heads on their shoulders and can handle the pressure. I know there was a situation down there the last time you worked, but I was impressed that you sucked it up and finished your shift. That shows a lot of dedication, and that is something I admire, Brea.” Brea felt it was a genuine one this time. “You’ve already proven you have a good head on your shoulders and aren’t afraid of a little shit from the drunks. Not to mention you’re beautiful and will no doubt sell a lot of drinks.”

  Brea couldn’t help it. She blushed. No one but Cameron had ever called her beautiful, and even when he did she never felt like he really meant it. Tate’s compliments were nice, but she was still leery. What the hell could she say? She knew if she refused it would be an insult to Tate, and Brea desperately needed this job.

  “Your pay will double.”

  Double? She could leave this town even sooner. Could she stomach it though? She remembered all too well the crush of bodies, the deafening noise, the smell of sweat and blood. It was overwhelming, for sure, but all she could think about was the pay and escaping for good. Despite her fear and the remembrance of the last time she worked the underground still fresh in her mind, it was hard to pass up. She knew what she had to do.

  “Yes, I’ll work the underground, Tate.” His approving smile made her stomach clench and she had no idea why.

  Chapter Four

  Adrenaline pumped through Adrian’s veins. Eyes closed, he bounced on the balls of his feet and focused everything inside of him on the night ahead. The small room he currently occupied didn’t dull the roar of the crowd outside. He ran his hands over his short hair and breathed out. These fights never failed to pump him up. This was his outlet, his way of getting rid of all of his anger, his hatred. Even though he had an insurmountable amount of pent-up rage that would never be purged, he got a minimal amount of relief.