קгєץ 🕷 [ⲛⲁⲅⳙⲏⳕⲛⲁ]

Nine

Chapter Eight

Nine

༒༻𝕹𝖆𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖔༺༒

March 22, 2012

To say he was pissed that his woman had the fucking gall to waltzed her ass into a fuckin strip club looking to bounce around butt-ass-naked in front of other men for money—-while carrying the equivalent of a few hours twirling the pole in the form of his disgustingly excessive tip in her purse—-was like describing freshly ruptured volcanic lava as lukewarm and harmless.

Naruto Uzumaki was a level of heated the fucking sun would envy.

Back pressed against the brick wall of Ruby Tips, fingers twitching around the heavy metal dangling in his right hand, Naruto stood motionless just around the corner from the object of his obsession, barely able to hear her side of the conversation over the rage roaring in his ears. He listened, gritting his teeth, seething as she bitched to her friend about getting cold feet and, unbeknownst to her, saving the gritty titty bar from a free remodeling courtesy of his Glock 19 and herself from getting up close and personal with the inside of his trunk.

His mouth tightened, painting a harsh sneer across his lips.

Part of him wanted to wring her pretty little neck for stepping foot in the club.

An even bigger part was itching to toss her over his shoulder, haul ass home and lock her down in the compound; fuck Sasuke and his pussyfoot romance bullshit.

That was exactly what he planned to do the moment he spotted her at the club doors and cut a hard u-turn that nearly ran a minivan off the road.

It was the only plan that had made any fucking sense to him as he screeched to a halt in the darkened side alley next to Ruby Tips, threw his SUV in park—-engine still running—-and flipped the safety off his pistol. Had she not stumbled out of the darkened door a beat before he reached the cheap, flashy awning adorning the entrance, shit would have gone down a helluva lot differently than it was about to now.

"I don't know how I'll get the money," she murmured into the phone, so low he had to strain to hear, "but...I just...I don't think I can do...this."

Damn fuckin right she couldn't.

He'd burn every strip club in the city to the ground before he let it happen.

He ran a contemplative thumb across the steel in his hand, glaring into the distance as his jaw clenched and that fiery buzzing in his head cranked a notch higher. Black, festering violence pooled in his gut, weaving acrid coils that writhed inside the cage of his abdominals.

If she wanted to strip for a man, she'd strip for him.

And if she wasn't putting on a show for him, she'd keep her fuckin' clothes on.

She belonged to him, whether she knew it or not, whether she wanted to or not, and he'd be damned if he let her show more than her smile to another man and with amount of fury clawing his insides, even that was more than he could stomach.

There was no fuckin reason for her to give her smiles to someone that wasn't him.

"-really good tip today," she continued, her voice beginning to trail as she paced away, "and it's nearly half of what I need for this month's rent, I just need to come up with the rest and I think..."