Chapter Twenty One: Whore’s Intent

Rich slowly made his way down the stairs. His head was pounding from the alcohol the night before. Wincing in the harsh lights of the kitchen, he found Angel folding laundry at the table.

Another girl, a brunette with long slender legs, tanned olive skin, and a shapely ass, was washing dishes at the sink.

Angel glanced up at Rich, his hand rubbing the side of his head, a pained expression across his face. “Brynn, coffee. Black.”

Brynn turned from the sink, glancing at Rich before drying her hands on a dish towel and promptly poured coffee in a clean mug.

Rich plopped down at the table as Brynn timidly set the mug down in front of him.

“You look like shit,” Angel noted.

“I feel like shit.”

“You were pretty drunk last night.”

“What time did you get in?”

Angel shrugged and continued folding laundry.

Rich rubbed his head with both hands, groaning softly.

Angel glanced up at him again, still folding “Brynn, upstairs in the medicine cabinet. Two Tylenol.”

“No,” Rich abruptly argued, his voice stern enough to make Brynn jump and Angel stop folding and give him a surprised but annoyed look. “I’m fine, thank you,” he said in Brynn’s direction.

Brynn looked at Angel for confirmation, who shrugged and when back to folding.

Rich glanced back and forth between the two girls, “what, she your bitch now?”

Angel glanced up at Rich, not saying a word.

Rich stood, the expression on his face had changed from pain to frustration. “Who’s running this shit, huh?” He slowly rounded the table in Angel’s direction. “I woke up to a call from Riggs. He said you mouthed off to Bishop?”

It was a question she didn’t need to answer.

“Do you have a fucking death wish?”

Angel continued folding laundry, silently.

Rich reached out suddenly, grabbing Angel by the throat, pushing her back away from the table. “What game do you think you’re playing girl, cause it’s not smart.”

Angel tensed in his grasp. She saw Brynn out of the corner of her eye. The girl had stopped with the dished, and was watching the two of them with wide doe-eyes. Angel looked Rich directly in the eyes.

“Look down,” he ordered.

She did not obey.

His grip on her throat tightened, “look down, whore,” he commanded more sternly.

She kept her gaze on him, her eyes narrowed and the flash of anger Rich had only seen a few times in their lives together, lit her dilated pupils.

Was that a twinge of fear she saw on his face?

He released her, only to give her a hard, backhanded slap across the face. It was hard enough that she actually stumbled backwards. She turned to him, glaring coldly at him.

“I said look down, whore!” He grabbed for her, catching her by the wrist and throwing her forcefully to the floor. He grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head up to look at him before giving her another hard slap to her cheek. Then another, and another.

“Please stop!” Brynn cried, tears swelling in her eyes. When Rich reached back to smack Angel again, Brynn grabbed his arm in both of her hands, trying to pull him away.

Rich tossed her easily away from him, with one hand. He gave Angel another hard smack to the face, before pulling her nose to nose with him, by the hand in her hair. “Look down,” he commanded through a clenched jaw.

Angel looked him in the eyes a moment longer. She saw the anger in his eyes, and her own eyes softened and she lowered her gaze to the floor.

He released her hair, squatting next to her, “no more games,” he growled.

Angel swallowed hard, but said nothing.

Rich stood and moved over to Brynn, who was sitting on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest, and tears streaking her face. He grabbed her by the hair, and backhanded her across the face. She yelped, her hand darting to her now red cheek, more tears falling.

He turned her face to look at him, “you ever put your hands on me like that again, I will kill you.” She sobbed in response, her body trembling in his grasp.