Scartissue by T.L Hodel

Chapter 8

Logan

Noah Torres.

That was the asshole I was going to kill. Not quick, either. Shit like that was reserved for fuckers you needed to get rid of, or the pricks too dangerous to continue breathing. Like my old man–worst mistake Lou ever made. But Noah… That motherfucker was going out nice and slow. So his screams could lull me to sleep at night.

Not only did he kiss Shelby, but the prick looked me right in the eyes when he did it. Pressed his lips to my Cherry Pie’s cheek and smiled up at me. A silent fuck you. If Micha and Parker weren’t there, I’d have gutted him and painted the fucking field with his blood. He wants to fuck with me…

Alright, you piece of shit. Let’s play.

Even Parker said the prick was asking for it. Probably would’ve helped me kill him too, if it wasn’t for Micha. He didn’t want to clean up the mess. I was quite capable of cleaning up my own messes. Some Micha didn’t even know about. Like Lance. Everyone thought he moved out of town. His family did. Preston relocated them right after we buried Lance. His final resting place was beside the car Ava torched in my backyard.

He shouldn’t have touched my sister, and as Preston put it, there were some things the King of Kings didn’t need to know about. That’s why guys like us existed. Plausible deniability. Worked for me. Now, every time I saw Riley sitting out back drawing, I smiled. Evan March would’ve been in the spot next to him, but that was Micha’s kill. I’d never take that shit from him.

I leaned back on the wall and lit a smoke, snorting at the pink flower stuck on Shelby’s bedroom door. Pink. Why wasn’t I surprised? It wasn’t that bad compared to some of the girly shit in this room. The flower looked half dead. Faded with age, with curled in petals. A lot like the wilted black rose on my right hand.

My thumb traced over the stab wound cutting through the center of my palm. The scar was nothing more than a thin line blended into black ink. But I knew it was there. I could feel the blade cutting through my flesh, pinning my hand to the table.

Unlike my other scars, this one wasn’t a constant reminder of the nightmare I was born into. Because this one was the last scar my old man would ever give me. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes late at night, I could feel my finger pulling that trigger. The shot echoing through my ears, marking the moment in my memory. The boogeyman was dead…

“You stay there, boy.”

My old man slammed the knife down through my hand and into the table beneath. My flesh screamed as it was torn apart. It took everything I had to hold back my own cry of pain. I’d never give him that satisfaction again. Didn’t stop my knees from giving out.

He twisted his neck and glared at Micha, who was on the ground clutching a bullet wound in his side. “Watch what happens when someone fucks with me.”

I couldn’t do anything but watch as he strutted over to my best friend. I tried to stop him, but that only tugged on the blade skewered through my hand, causing me to drop back down. I’d told Micha this would happen. That we couldn’t stop him. How were two ten-year-old’s and a twelve-year-old supposed to fight the boogeyman? He ate kids for breakfast.

“Look at you. The King of Kings precious heir.” My old man lifted his foot, delivering a hard kick to Micha’s side. “Not so fucking great now, are you?”

Micha grunted and cried out when my old man’s foot struck him again. He wasn’t used to this. He didn’t live in my house, and his old man made sure mine was never left alone with him. Micha was protected, pampered, and weak. He couldn’t handle what was coming. Maybe that’s why I spoke up? To keep the one untouchable pillar in my life strong.

“I’m gonna tear your fucking guts out!”

“I thought you’d have learned by now, boy,” my old man smirked at me. “You can’t kill the boogeyman.”

“You’re not the boogeyman,” Micha groaned, and I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. He hadn’t been broken. Yet. “Just a sick, twisted fuck, and he’s not afraid of you anymore.”

He wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t afraid, but I wasn’t stupid either. There was a big difference between numb and used to it.

“You’re right, he’s not.” My old man tilted his head down at Micha, eyes roaming over the blood seeping from his wound. “But his mother is.”

I sucked in a gasp and searched his face. Was he going to hurt Ma? She wasn’t here, so I couldn’t tell if I needed to protect her from his glare.

“You see that,” my old man said, tipping his head back at me. “Love is weakness, Micha. Hate’s a much stronger motivator.”

“Don’t listen to him, Logan.” Micha locked his dark eyes on mine. “He’s just trying to mess with your head.”

It was working.

I looked over at the sheriff’s wife, curled up on the ground beside her husband, quietly sobbing. Her husband couldn’t do anything to help her. Even if he wasn’t tied to a chair, he was beaten so badly one of his eyes was swollen shut. My old man really worked Maria Adams over. Honestly, I was surprised she was still breathing, and if her state was any indication of what might happen to Ma…

“It’s no use. The boy’s a lost cause when it comes to his mother.”

“A bastard like you doesn’t deserve a kid,” the sheriff piped in. “I feel sorry for him.”

My lips curled in a sneer. It wasn’t my wife laying naked on the floor. He couldn’t even protect his own family. What kind of man was he?

“Quiet down, I’m not done with you yet.” My old man’s gaze rolled his way, “Or your pretty wife.”

Maria whimpered and hugged the leg of the chair her husband was tied to.

“You bastard! I signed your stupid contract!” the sheriff bellowed.

“I never said I’d stop. It’s been a long time since I had someone so feisty. It’s a pity your daughter isn’t here to join in the fun.”

That caused Micha to growl loudly. “Stay the fuck away from her!”

He may not like Riley, but she was his and he protected what was his.

My old man smirked. Riley was the whole reason we were here. To save her from him, and she wasn’t even home. I couldn’t help but snort at the irony.

“Perhaps I’ll let my boy have a turn? How about it, boy?” He glanced over his shoulder, green eyes twinkling in delight. “You ready to become a man?”

I had no interest in Riley. He’d make me do it, though. For one simple reason. It would fracture our friendship.

Micha pushed his hand into the floor and propped himself up, causing a sickly wet sound to emanate through the room, and glared up at my old man, hate emanating from his dark gaze. “He’ll kill you one day. You know that, right?”

My old man belted out a chuckle. “You think too highly of my boy.”

“He’s stronger than you think.” Micha’s eyes shifted slightly to the left, making me notice the gun laying on the table next to my pinned hand.

Do it.

I cocked my head, brows furrowed at the weapon. I couldn’t kill the boogeyman.

Yes you can. If you can make him bleed, you can kill him. Take it!

I looked back at my best friend–why did he think I could kill him–and said, “What did you do with Preston?”

Preston was much more capable than I was, but the last time we saw him, he was being dragged upstairs.

Micha’s brow rose, as if he could read my thoughts, and he once again shifted his gaze at the gun. This time more insistently.

“I wouldn’t worry about Preston.” My old man crouched down and roughly grabbed Micha’s chin, digging his fingers into his cheeks. “Sweet little Mason, however...”

My jaw clenched as ice flowed through my veins. Mase was my brother too, and so far had remained out of my father’s grasp. My gaze fell on the barrel of the gun. Black and shiny, like the knife I used to slice my old man’s leg.

If the boogeyman can bleed, he can die.

Micha smirked up at my old man and sang, “I win, fucker.”

The amusement fell off my old man’s face when he looked back in time to see me lift the gun.

“It’s time to pay the piper,” I said, and squeezed the trigger…

I shook the long faded gunshot from my memory. My haunted thoughts could wait. There were more pressing matters to deal with. Mainly, the tempting blonde that thought she could toy with me. Shelby gave me a smug grin before she let that prick touch her. If she thought my head was a safe place to dance around, she was sorely mistaken.

I ripped the flower off her door and crumpled it in my hand.

Sorry, sweetheart, my mind was fucked long before you showed up.

Soft footsteps echoed up the stairs, making my lips curl. Since Shelby’s mom was working the night shift and her sister was staying at her dad’s place, that meant Cherry Pie was home. It was time to play. I dropped my cigarette in a glass of water on the nightstand and watched the door.

Come on in, sweetheart.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed from out in the hall, making my dick jump in anticipation. She was right there. I could smell her through the door. “I’ll feed you in a minute. Let me change first.”

Meow.

Fat fucking cat. I fed that bastard when I got here. It was the only way I could get his grumpy ass to stop hissing at me.

The door opened and Shelby sauntered in. She looked good, always did. In a low cut pink shirt and black skirt. But it was her ass that drew my attention. Eyes focused on the fabric bouncing off those firm globes. I wanted to do things to that ass. Like see my handprint on it.

The cat trotted in behind her and meowed.

“Go on,” she said, shooing him. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

No you won’t.

I couldn’t help but shake my head. Shelby was completely oblivious. Walking around like she was alone, but Fluffy saw me. His eyes landed right on me, before he meowed and pranced away. How fucking sad was that? She didn’t see the six foot four man in her room. The damn cat did.

Shelby sighed and pulled her shirt over her head. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that she didn’t notice me. I cocked my head and rolled my gaze over the smooth creamy mounds wrapped in red lace.

What the fuck was I here for?

Whatever it was, it could wait. I had pert little nipples to stare at. Red was my new favorite color. Bold against her fair skin. A lot like blood, and I’d been dying to mark that perfect complexion.

Do her panties match?

Shelby turned around and froze. Standing there with wide eyes and her mouth hung open, begging me to face fuck her. That look on her face–somewhere between confusion and fear–wasn’t doing her any favors. All I could think about was forcing her down on her knees and watching her choke on my cock.

I could. Push her down and wrap those perfect pink lips around...

“Logan?”

That’s right, baby, say my name.

“What are you… I mean…” Her face flushed in frustration, “How did…”

I might’ve found her stuttering cute, if I wasn’t too busy growling internally at her cheek. The same fucking cheek that prick kissed. Before I left this room, my come would be the only thing marking her tainted flesh.

Let’s see if that fucking prick wants to kiss her then!

“What are you doing in my house?”

What the fuck did she mean, what was I doing here? She should fucking know.

“Hello,” she sang, while waving her hand through the air, “Are you going to answer me, or just stand there?”

My brow arched. Cherry Pie better watch her fucking tone, or I’d have something other than her mouth wrapped around my cock tonight.

“Answer me, damn it!”

Making demands now, was she?

My old man’s voice piped up in the back of my head.

‘Are you going to let her talk to you like that? Get over there and do something about it, boy.’

I was tempted to do just that. March over there and teach Shelby a lesson she’d never forget. Preston’s words were the only thing that stopped me. ‘Broken dolls aren’t any fun.’

Still…

I cocked a brow at her ass, hand twitching at my side.

“This is breaking and entering, you know,” she insisted with a far too cocky head shake. “I could call the cops.”

She could. Wouldn’t do her any good, but she could call. I doubted they’d even make me leave. And if they did, I’d be back. Then she’d really be sorry.

“Please say something.”

No. I don’t think I will. She wasn’t liking the silent treatment. It made her uncomfortable. Feet shifting on the carpet while her hands toyed with her skirt. She still hadn’t covered up, though, and my eyes kept falling back down to her full breasts, bouncing with every move she made.

‘So easily distracted,’ my old man scoffed. ‘You’re weak, boy.’

“If this is some trick to get me to kiss you like I did Silas, it isn’t going to work.”

What!? She fucking kissed Silas! That motherfucker.

“Logan, you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Good.

My nostrils flared as my gaze rolled up to hers.

Fucking Silas. Really?

“Look, if this is about this afternoon…” Shelby cleared her throat and licked her lips. “Noah didn’t–”

“Don’t say his fucking name,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

Silas, I could forgive–might hit him a couple times–but that motherfucker Noah… He’d be six feet under before he went anywhere near her again.

‘So much for the silent treatment,’ my old man snickered.

Shut the fuck up!

That fucker wouldn’t leave me alone. Even in death he was there, yapping in the back of my mind.

‘But I wasn’t dead, was I? You couldn’t even do that right.’

“Logan, Noah–”

“I said don’t fucking say his name!”

She yipped and jumped back.

That’s right sweetheart, now you’re getting it.

I kept reminding myself to heed Preston’s warning, but I didn’t know how long I could hold back. Especially when Shelby demurely glanced down at her wringing hands. Didn’t she know that shit was my aphrodisiac? The nervousness thick in the air and subtle glances got my dick hard. Lucky for her, the beast hadn’t consumed me, yet.

And then she opened her fucking mouth.

“Did you hurt him?”

I glared at the concern in her eyes. “Not yet.”

Why the fuck did she care if I hurt that prick? I should fuck him up for that question alone.

My Cherry Pie was obviously scared. She still tried to put up a strong front, though. Staying right where she was, with her feet firmly planted on the ground. But she couldn’t hide that shit from me. I spent my childhood watching my old man torture fuckers. In the end, everybody gave themselves away. And sweet little Shelby, with her quiet shivers and shifting glances, may as well have had ‘I’m terrified’ tattooed across her forehead.

“What do you want?” she asked, bright eyes searching mine for the answer to the question on the tip of her tongue.

The one she was afraid to ask.

A fine film of sweat glistened on her heaving chest, making me lick my lips. There was nothing quite like the taste of fear. The heady feel of tears rolling down my throat was addictive.

Finally her pouty pink lips parted and spilled out, “Are you going to hurt me?”

There it is.

Was I going to hurt her… fuck yeah I was going to hurt her. But she’d like it.

“Yes,” I said, eyes locking on her nipples, pert and pressing against the lace fabric of her bra.

Maybe that’s what she’s afraid of?

“Why?”

I’d never been harder in my life. I pushed my hand in my jeans and readjusted myself. No need to be discrete. She’d be getting real personal with my cock in a minute.

“Why not?”

The look on her face made me chuckle. Big eyes wide and locked on my package.

“Logan,” she held her hand up, as if that was going to stop me. Too cute. “You need to leave.”

“Oh, Cherry Pie,” I pushed off the wall and kicked the door shut. “I’m not going anywhere.”