Striker: A Dark Bully Romance (Redwood Rebels Book 1) by Rachel Leigh (best historical fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

“Don’t play dumb with me, Porter. You think you can just take her for yourself?”

Smirking, I tip the pizza up and bite off the triangle end. Mmm, pepperoni. Lucky grab. “Didn’t take her. Don’t want her.” I take another bite.

“You’re crossing the line that we all made crystal clear. Don’t step over it because, once you do, there is no going back.”

Holding up a finger, I continue to chew. Pissing him off even further. His jaw ticks with fury and in a swift motion, his hand slaps across mine, sending the pizza flying across the kitchen. “Listen close,” he grips the collar of my t-shirt and gives me no choice but to listen and also smell the stench of whiskey on his breath, “Don’t push me, Porter. I don’t give a shit if we’ve been friends since grade school.” His teeth clamp down and he speaks slowly, “I will fuck your life up.”

Swallowing down the rest of the pizza, I shove him back. “Keep in mind, we made a deal that she’s off-limits. That means you, too, asshole. And what the hell is with you? Since when do you have an interest in Marni Thorn?”

Zed takes a step back, turns around and I don’t even see it coming when his fist meets my left cheek. My head whips to the side and something inside of me snaps. Barreling at him, I wrap my arms around his waist and drive him back into the island counter, hearing his back hit the black granite. Coming up, I cock my fist and release, but his head moves just in time. “I’ll fucking destroy you!” I shout.

Ignoring the numbness of my cheek, I keep swinging, hitting him a few times. Taking a few blows myself.

“Seriously, you two!” Tommy comes hurrying into the kitchen. His arms sweep between us as he attempts to pry us apart. “Lars, get your ass in here,” he shouts.

But before Lars even has time to come, we separate. Both huffing and out of breath. Pointing a finger at me, Zed shouts, “She’s not your fucking toy!”

“She’s not yours either,” I retort.

“Are you two idiots seriously fighting over that girl. It’s been one day. One fucking day,” Tommy snarls, shaking his head in disappointment as he holds out his arms, filling the space between Zed and I.

I should have known it wouldn’t be smooth sailing like we anticipated. I also never expected her having this sort of effect on me. This overpowering desire to keep her away from Zed. I’m not sure why, but the idea of him touching her fills my entire body with a burning rage. It’s unnerving—taunting.

“You see what he’s doing,” Zed snaps, “he’s treating her like his own little puppy.”

“Isn’t she? Wasn’t that the plan?” Tommy says, as he opens and closes the boxes of pizza. “What’s all this food for?”

Clenching my swollen cheek in my hand, I look at Zed who’s doing the same. “I ordered it. She needed to eat.”

Tommy pulls out a slice. “She? As in multiple women? Because you bought enough to feed the entire varsity cheer squad and their families.”

“I didn’t know what she liked. What’s the big fucking deal?”

Zed doesn’t take his eyes off me as I talk. He’s waiting for me to say the wrong thing. The guy is so on edge all the time and needs to just calm his ass down. It’s apparent he has some sort of fascination with Marni, and if she’s on his radar, it can only mean one thing—trouble.

I pull out my phone and slap it to Tommy’s chest. “Round one is done. It’s time to move on to the next phase.”

“Already?” Tommy questions. Zed grabs the phone from his hands and begins clicking through it.

The volume is turned all the way up, and Marni’s voice can be heard through the speaker of the video. “Turn that shit down!” I attempt to snatch the phone away, but he pulls back with his finger held down on the volume button. Her sounds quickly fade away until the volume is off.

It irks me that these guys are watching her as she orgasms intensely—one that was meant just for me. Glad I remembered to crop the footage before showing them; they’d have a field day if they saw all of it—especially the end.

Zed tosses the phone back to me while his eyes sweep the room as Lars walks in—ten minutes too late.

Zed walks out, without even acknowledging him, but then stops and turns to face me. “Just because you’re on the verge of fucking up your own agenda, doesn’t mean we will let you fuck up ours.”

I can’t, and I won’t fuck this up. This is my one shot.

Looking down at the tattoo on my arm, the pact we made replays in my head. Start to finish, we stick together. Four games of revenge, one shot each. 

We all have our demons. We all have our vices. But we are all in this together, no matter what fresh stain of hate is dredged up during the in between.

Lying in bed that night, thoughts of her swirl in my mind. Wrapping around every crack and crevice, refusing to leave. I’ve never had a problem sleeping; in fact, sleep has always come easy to me. It’s my escape from this hellish place. I search for my dreams in hopes of finding some sort of connection to the world. Mornings come too soon, and I’m forced to leave behind the illusion of a life with color. Closing my eyes tightly, I imagine myself running toward Dad’s open arms. He picks me up, spins me around, then calls me, Sport. Still not asleep, I open one eye, then try again.

He’s there.

I’m running.

Only his arms aren’t open. He’s angry. A bottle hangs from his left hand.

No. Don’t go there. Open your eyes. It’s not real. 

The bottle flies across the room. The sound of the glass shattering has my body jerking and my seven-year-old heart thumping against