CHAPTER 38
Dusty
“Mama, you all right?” I asked the second I was out of music range.
“No, Dusty, I’m not. Have you lost your mind?”
Worry and rage took over me as I pushed the doors open and exited to the back alley behind the club. “What are you talking about? What happened?”
“What do you mean what happened? You don’t know what happened? You’re stepping the fuck down!”
I tilted my head back and exhaled a long, heated breath, rolling my eyes, my blood boiling. “You shitting me right now? I thought something happened to you like you got busted or attacked or something. What the hell, Mama?”
“This is way worse! Tell me it’s not true.”
I will kill that fucker Rush. I told him not to tell anyone just yet.
My hand clenched, and I almost hurled the phone at the reeking Dumpster in front of me. “No, it is true. As far as I remember, I’m President. This’s my call and my call alone. Now, if you don’t mind I need to get back to my ol’lady.”
“You’re throwing everything away for that bitch?!”
My eyes squeezed shut. “Mama, don’t call her that. Cammie and I are together whether you like it or not.”
“She fucking kidnapped you.”
“We killed her sister,” I seethed in the lowest tone possible. “She could’ve let me rot, but she didn’t. She made sure I’d get out whether she came out of Rosewood dead or alive. And I love her. End of story.”
“Dusty—”
“Enough. I’m hanging up.”
Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I banged the door open and hurried back inside the club. My stare sought after Cammie immediately. I found her talking to that ass, his fucking hand on her arm.
What the fuck? That piece of shit should know patience wasn’t my friend. There was so much I could take.
I elbowed through the crowd, my anger piling up. Then I saw him grabbing her again.You brought it on yourself, motherfucker.
How many people had I pushed out of my way to reach Cammie? How many slaps or arm twists hadshegiven the piece of shit until my fist sucker punched him? I didn’t know. I couldn’t see.
It was like I wasn’t here anymore, and there was no one around but him and me and the shitty enraging things that happened today. How other men looked at Cammie. What she said about her high school ex. What Mama said. How that fucker thought he could lay a hand on my girl.
Blinded by rage, I dragged him off the floor—he’d fallen flat on his ass from my punch—and kicked him into that alley.
He was talking, but I couldn’t hear anything but the breaking of his bones as I smashed his face. Blood splattered all over me, but I didn’t stop.
I didn’t want to stop.
His left arm was my next victim. I stretched it and twisted it until it snapped. He rolled in pain, crying, but I pinned him down and my punches flew again. The fucker’s screams and blubbering fell deaf on my ears. Even the footsteps and the yelling men and screaming women behind me. Every sound was toned down until one scream snapped me out of my own skin. Cammie’s scream.
“Dusty! Stop! You’ll kill him!”
I looked at her over my shoulder and saw her pale face and the panic in her eyes. The world stopped in its tracks as I realized, for the first time ever, Cameron was terrified of me.
Suddenly, I became aware of the surroundings, the people, the blood. The approaching sirens.
I stood and grabbed the piece of shit by his neck. Then I pressed him to the Dumpster. His eyes were swollen and half-closed, but I knew he could still see me. I leaned to whisper in his ear. “If you ever think about touching my woman again, I’ll chop your dick off in your sleep. And if you go yammering to the cops, I’ll track you and your family down, and when I find you, it won’t be about breaking some bones like tonight. It’ll be a lot fucking worse. Graveyard worse. Do you understand?”
He nodded vigorously, sobbing like a little bitch.