Bad Bunny

A Hare-Raising Prequel

AJ Mullican

Copyright © 2024 AJ Mullican

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Crowe Abbey Designs

This one's for my wonderful PA, Sarah, who couldn’t get the title to Call Me Bunny right to save her life. She kept calling it Bad Bunny, so she said I just needed to write another Bunny story and call it Bad Bunny … and here we are!

Chapter 1

Bunny

Ears? Check.

​Gun? Check.

​Fishnets? Check.

​My trusty baseball bat, Merrill? Check.

​This Bunny is ready to hit the town—and some skulls.

​“No, Bun.” Kendrick’s gruff voice pulls me out of my self-inspection. I turn from the mirror with Merrill resting on my shoulder and give him a questioning glance.

​“What’s the ‘no’ about?” I ask. I look down at my tits in my black corset, thinking maybe one of the girls is lopsided. Nope. Nice and plump and even, just like they should be. “Did I forget something?”

​He crosses his tatted arms over his broad chest with a grunt. “Clothing, for one.”

​Oh, that! I beam up at him. “My nips and naughty bits are covered, silly.”

​“You’re not going out in that getup.”

​Rolling my eyes at his prudishness, I activate Brat Mode and head for the door. “I’m twenty-one, Kendrick. Not a kid anymore. I’ll wear what I wanna wear.”

​I’d leave him on that note, but he grabs one of my braids—the blue one—and wraps it around his hand, halting me in my tracks. I brace myself for the inevitable smack to my exposed ass, something I know is coming. Kendrick pulls me to his chest and tugs my braid until I’m looking up at him backwards. “Did I say you could leave?” he asks through gritted teeth.

​He’s playing the bad guy, but I can feel his hard dick pressing into the small of my back. He wants this; he just doesn’t wanna admit it.

​“You’re not a kid anymore, but you’re still my girl. I don’t want you getting hurt because you decided to run around Summer City with barely anything on.”

​I blink innocently. “You’ll be there, right?” Of course he would. Kendrick’s always there.

​His free hand snakes around to grip my throat. “What if I’m not?”

​I give my best nonchalant shrug—well, the best I can, given the position he’s got me in. “Then I’ll kill any fucker that tries anything with me.”

​“I’m serious, Bun.”

​“And I’m not?”

​His bearded face scrunches up in a scowl. “You’re never serious.”

​Much as I enjoy being this close to Kendrick, with this position he’s got me in I’m getting a crick in my neck. I won’t be much use to anyone if I have a cricky neck. I deploy a diversionary tactic to get him to let me go.

​“I am serious about one thing, Kendrick …” I say, batting my lashes at him.

​“What’s that?”

​I stomp down on his bare foot with the heel of my boot. He lets go with a growly shout, and I book it out the door. “You’re gonna have to catch me if you want to stop me!” I shout back over my shoulder.

​Our current base of operations, such as it is, consists of a small network of rundown abandoned storage units near the edge of town. They might seem creepy to the average Joe, but to us, they're home. Kendrick converted some of the units into mini apartments, complete with bathroom facilities, electricity, and running water. A few of Summer City’s less fortunate reside here with us, people who don’t have a home to go to. Kids whose parents kicked them out, adults who are down on their luck, and of course Kendrick, Doc, and me.

I dodge small children and stray dogs as I run from Kendrick. It's a game we've played plenty of times before, and some of the teenaged residents of our little community chuckle and catcall at me when I pass by. Kendrick and I are loud enough when we get frisky that I'm sure they know what’s going to happen once he catches me.

I can’t wait for him to catch me.

The slap of his feet on the pavement behind me gets louder with every second. He’ll be on me in no time. I aim for an unoccupied storage unit and hope he catches me there. I’d hate for us to bust in on someone’s home … again.

Either my timing is off, or Kendrick’s getting faster. Instead of catching up to me at the unit I’m aiming for, he tackles me in an alley between two of the small buildings. Semi-private, but even at this late hour we could easily be caught in the act.

Kinky.

I let out a string of curses as I slam into the concrete and skin my elbows. That’s going to sting like a bitch when the adrenaline and endorphins wear off. For now, though, the sting hurts so good.

More scrapes appear as Kendrick wrestles my arms behind my back. I hear the whisper of his belt sliding through its loops, and he wraps the strip of leather around my wrists. My chest heaves with the effort of trying to catch my breath in this position.

​“I didn’t say you could leave yet, Bun.” He’s not out of breath despite our run. I need to work out more. “Now I gotta punish you. Why do you do that, baby?”

​Again he’s got me in a position where I can’t shrug. “I dunno. I kinda like it when you punish me.”

​“You’re not supposed to like it, Bun. That’s why it’s called punishment.”

​Kendrick tightens the belt and pushes my legs apart with his knees. I’m shaking with anticipation at this point. I haven’t pushed his buttons this hard in a while.  We’re kind of overdue for an explosion.

​His rough, callused fingers glide up my thighs and pull the crotch of my thong to the side. “Maybe I shouldn’t punish you. Not like usual, anyway.” He eases two fingers into my wet slit, and I struggle to push back, to ride those thick fingers to release. He’s not letting me move, though, so I’m left whining and wiggling. “No, Bun. I think maybe tonight’s punishment won’t include an orgasm. You haven’t earned that.”

​Is this bastard gonna edge me? Oh, hell no! I redouble my efforts to move, but he’s got me pinned tight.

​Kendrick clucks his tongue as he slowly works my pussy. “Uh-uh, Bun. No moving.”

​With his other hand, he pushes my face into the concrete. It’s rough and coarse, and the contrast to the smooth way his fingers slide in and out of me is amazing.

​I try another tactic to get him to finish me. “Please, Daddy?” I say, all sweetness and sugar. “I promise I’ll be a good little bunny if you let me come. I’ll even put a jacket on before I go out.”

​I’m so lying.

​“You’re such a liar, Bun.”

​Busted. I scramble to think of a compromise that would get me out of this, or at least a more convincing lie.

​“A light sweater?”

​Two fingers become three, and his touch becomes rough. “I’m not buying it.”

​He’s right. A sweater wouldn’t go with this outfit. Besides, it’s summertime in Summer City, and the Summer City Hare—that’s me—has a reputation to uphold. I can’t be seen in some frumpy sweater or bulky jacket. I need to express myself the only way I know how: by showing as much skin as possible.

​“Hey, Justin, check it out! Kendrick’s caught Bunny again!”

​I recognize the voice as Kyle, one of the residents of our little city-within-a-city. A few seconds later, the click of phone cameras going off reaches my ears. Fuck.

​“Just remember, Kyle, that I can and will escape eventually, and I will have zero regrets about destroying that phone of yours.”

​Kendrick’s grip on my hair tightens, and he releases my pussy to give my bare ass that slap I expected earlier. “Focus, Bun. They’re not in charge here; I am. Who do you listen to when I’m in charge?”

​Ugh. I hate when Kendrick has a point. “You, Daddy.”

​The next slap hits me square in the cunt, causing me to jerk. “That’s right. And who’s gonna have to clean up after you if you get carried away again tonight?”

​I sigh, grateful that my hair hides my eyeroll from his view. “You, Daddy.”

​A new voice joins the party just as things are getting good. “And who’s going to have to stitch both of you up if you guys get distracted before you go out there?”

​“You, Doc,” we say in unison.

​Jefferson Ledger, a.k.a. Doc, our resident former resident, sighs somewhere behind me. “Let her up, Kendrick.”

​With our fun brought to an abrupt halt, Kendrick straightens my clothes, what little of them there are to straighten, and releases my hands. I push up to my knees and dust off my arms, rubbing my wrists where the belt had started to chafe.

​“I’m guessing Bunny’s got patrol tonight,” Doc says. I glance back at him, watching the ripple of his dark arms in his short-sleeve shirt as he runs a hand through his dreads and puts his other hand on his slender hip. Doc’s pretty fit, though not as fit as Kendrick, and he’s a fun little sub to play with when Kendrick and I aren’t messing around. I like having someone to boss around from time to time, though I feel a bit sorry for Doc.

​Kendrick and I found him on one of our weekly patrols of Summer City. Poor guy was half-dead in a ditch, the syringe still sticking out of the crook of his arm. We couldn’t very well leave him like that, so we brought him back to Buntown—my name for it, though Kendrick and the others just call it “home”—and nursed him back to something resembling health.

​It took me a while to realize that getting Doc away from the drugs wasn’t going to be enough to keep him clean. He was just as bad as I am, sneaking out at all hours, though instead of hunting criminals, he was hunting his next fix. I finally had enough one night and, frustrated with chasing him all over the city, I went full Kendrick on his ass. Turns out that Doc needs a bit of control in his life, and when I take that control, it keeps the cravings at bay. Who knew?

​Too bad Kendrick doesn’t see the way Doc looks at him when he watches us together. I just know the two of them would hit it off, but Kendrick thinks he’s too Macho Man to be into Doc like that.

​That’s okay. I’ll get those two together eventually.

​“Doc, Kendrick says I can’t go out like this,” I whine. “Tell him it’s part of my strategy.”

​Kendrick snorts. “Your strategy is to invite the criminals to assault you?”

​He’s being polite. He means rape.

​I roll my eyes. “Duh. They see this—” I gesture to my ensemble “—and they think I’m an easy target. Makes bashing their skulls in easier for me.”

​Doc pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

​“You’re gonna go whether we approve or not, aren’t you?”

​I put my hands on my hips and puff up my chest. “Yep.”

​Kendrick groans, and Doc turns to him. “My expert medical advice is to follow her. Watch her like a hawk. Make sure you both make it home safe.” Doc shrugs. “Try to give me as little work to do after as possible. It’s been a long day of stitching up the neighborhood kids from stupid accidents and fights. I’d rather not have to treat the two of you with more than a Band-aid, maybe some superglue.”

​I stretch up on my toes to give Doc a kiss, then jump up and give one to Kendrick, too. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go tear up some bad guys.”

​I trot off down an alley, headed for an even seedier area of town, a spot that doesn’t benefit from my routine presence like Buntown does. I’ll be sure to find some do-badders there, and once I find them, I can cut loose.

Chapter 2

Kendrick

I swear, keeping up with Bun is a full-time job.

​Before I can even head back to our storage unit for my shoes she’s gone, off to right the wrongs of Summer City one asshole at a time.

​It’s not that I don’t think she can take care of herself. She’s just reckless, with a side of God complex, and it makes for a dangerous combination. One of these days, Bunny’s gonna bite off more than she can chew, and if she keeps running off without me like this, I won’t be able to help.

​I catch up to her about ten streets over. She’s finally slowed down, but I can tell it’s not for my benefit. No, she spotted someone sketchy. She’s creeping down the alley like a panther stalking its prey, except in that getup there’s no way she’s gonna go unnoticed.

​Sliding up next to her, I peer around the corner to see what—or who—she’s after.

​I shouldn’t be surprised to find that she’s stalking a known gangbanger: Jimmy DeMarco, a low-level grunt in the SC MotoBoys, a local biker gang. DeMarco, a tall, lanky dude with greasy black hair and the barest hint of a pornstache, is a thug for sure, but he’s not much of a challenge for Bun. She must be warming up for a bigger target later on.

​“What’s the plan, Bun?”

​She shrugs and shoulders her baseball bat. “I dunno. I mean, he hit Kyle up for money the other day. That’s where the shiner Kyle’s sporting came from. I figured I’d ask nicely for Kyle’s money back, then when he doesn’t cooperate, I’m gonna give him a matching black eye before taking the money by force.”

​“Just like that, huh?”

​“Yep.”

​I scrub my beard with my hands. “And when he fights back?”

​Bunny grins. “That’s the fun part.”

​Her heels click on the pavement in the alley as she turns the corner and walks right up to Jimmy like she knows the guy. He watches her with a wary gaze, but he plays it cool, lighting up a cigarette while she approaches.

​“Hi, Jimmy!” Bunny chirps. “I hear you might have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

​DeMarco takes a drag and releases a puff of smoke right in Bun’s face. “I have a lot of shit that doesn’t belong to me. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

​Oh, shit. He shouldn’t have done that. Bun hates cigarette smoke.

​Bunny clucks her tongue at DeMarco and twirls her bat. “Tsk, tsk. Why you gotta be like that, Jimmy? I was tryin’ to be nice about it.”

​He blows more smoke, and I get ready to jump in and rescue Bun—or DeMarco. Whoever falls first. “You think that bat’s gonna scare me? Bitch, you probably can barely lift that thing.

​“Oh, the bat’s not supposed to scare you. It’s supposed to distract you.”

​Jimmy has half a second to raise his brow before Bunny’s gun blasts a hole in his kneecap. The stupid fucker didn’t even see her draw it. The gangbanger drops to the ground and holds his leg, screaming all the while. Bunny just giggles and stomps on his balls before bending and fishing a wallet out of his back pocket. After rifling through his cash to count it, she takes out the bills and drops the empty leather on the ground. “You’re short, Jimmy. My friend Kyle says you stole three fifty from him. There’s only three hundred here.”

​Poor Jimmy can barely talk through the pain she’s put him in. He wheezes and coughs, now cradling both his leg and his balls. Tears stream down his red face as he tries to answer her.

​“Chico took his cut, man! Everyone knows Chico gets a cut from anything we have.”

​Does he mean Chico Angelo? The Chico Angelo, head honcho of the MotoBoys? Fuck.

I come out of my hiding spot and trot over to Bunny, grabbing her arm and tugging her towards the back exit to the alley. “C’mon, Bun. He’s done for. Let him crawl to a clinic and explain that gunshot wound to the nurses and cops. Let’s go.”

​Bunny, as usual, ignores me. “Chico’s got Kyle’s fifty bucks?”

​Jimmy nods and whines. “Yeah. I swear, he’s got it.”

​“Fine.” Bunny holsters her gun and taps the shaft of the bat against her shoulder. “But I still feel like I’m letting you off easy for some reason.”

​“Bunny …” I throw plenty of warning tone in my voice, but Bunny’s not done playing with her toy.

​“I know!” She brings the bat down on Jimmy’s nose, cracking the bone so loud it echoes in the alley. “You’re too pretty. Can’t let you get off lookin’ that pretty. The outside’s gotta match the in, y’know?” With that, Bunny finally turns to leave. I follow her down the back exit, trailing through alleys and side streets until we’re a safe distance away from the scene.

​“You’re not going after Chico Angelo, Bunny. I won’t let you.”

​“You’re funny, Kendrick! I like how you think you can stop me.” She skips along, heels clacking on the concrete.

​“Bunny, he’ll gut you.”

​She shrugs. “Maybe. But he’s got Kyle’s money, so I gotta go get it back.”

​“Bun, it’s fifty lousy bucks! I’ll give you a hundred right now to let it go.”

​Bunny frowns up at me. “That wouldn’t be fair to you, Kendrick. It’s your money. Just like it’s Kyle’s money that Chico took. We’ll just go get it back, and that’ll be that. Easy peasy.”

​It’s clear that Bunny and I have vastly differing opinions of what constitutes an easy job. “You won’t find Chico wandering a back alley alone like Jimmy was. He’ll have guards. Legit henchmen. Just let it go, and Doc won’t have to bring us both back from the dead.”

​“I bet he could, y’know. Doc’s the best.”

​With that, I know I’ve lost her. She probably honestly believes that Doc can fix anything that happens to us. Any argument I might have about her physical safety won’t matter with that in her head.

​To my surprise, we don’t immediately head on a search for Chico. Instead, Bun takes a different route after her burner phone pings, aiming for the local college campus. I’m not aware of any wrongs that need righting here, but odds are Bunny has the scoop on something or someone that needs avenging. Maybe there’s some bullying going on, or maybe someone’s getting shaken down for their lunch money. Who knows? With Bunny, it could be just about any little affront. Stole a pencil from a friend of hers? Bunny’ll beat you senseless until you give it back.

​“What’s up, Bun? Why are we going to the college?”

​Rather than answer me, Bunny just checks her phone for a second, then makes an abrupt turn towards the dorms. A few late-night wanderers gape at Bunny’s outfit as they pass us by, whispering and giggling to each other. One musclebound jock wolf whistles at her, and Bunny replies with a choice finger. The jock shouts a crude comment about the gesture being an invitation, but when Bunny draws her gun, he books it for the nearest building. Dude must be on the football or track team; he sure can move.

​Once we get to the dorms, Bunny slows to a creeping crawl, tiptoeing along to keep her heels from making noise. She’s got Merrill held firmly in her right hand, gun in the left, and I wonder what the hell could be going on at a local community college campus to warrant that kind of caution.

​We weave through the alleys between dormitories for about ten minutes before the distinct smack of fists colliding with skin reaches my ears.

​Shit. Someone’s getting a beat-down, from multiple perps by the sound of it, and Bunny plans on jumping to the rescue.

​Sure enough, Bunny breaks into a run as soon as the group of students comes into view. I barely have time to curse and chase after her before she’s already there, swinging away at the attackers.

​The victim is a tall, silver-blonde guy who probably once was attractive. That’s before the swelling started, though. Right now, he’s a pulpy mess of bruising and cuts. The one eye that’s not swollen shut is bloodshot, making the blue of his irises stand out. He’s trying to defend himself by blocking the punches with his arms, but all that’s doing is getting his arms bruised. The fingers of his right hand sit at odd angles, and I bet it got stomped on at some point.

​The five jocks that cornered him are in full attack mode, but so is Bunny. She’s on them so fast they don’t have time to react to the pounding of her feet on the sidewalk. Jock Number One takes a bat to the base of the skull and drops like the sack of shit that he is. Jocks Two through Four scatter, but it’s too late.

​Bunny’s got them in her sights.

​“Get Keys to Doc,” she shouts as she chases after them. “Keep him safe.”

​Her dismissal is a little upsetting, mostly because that means she intends to take on the jocks alone, but also partly because I don’t know what the fuck to do with the beaten dude in front of me.

​This “Keys” guy groans and cradles his broken hand. Blood oozes from a cut on his lip, which is comically swollen.

​“Well, dude, looks like it’s you and me for now. Can you walk?”

​Keys nods and tries to stand, then proves that he’s too fucked up for independent movement. I catch him before he falls and hurts himself even more, and with my help he manages to limp along beside me towards the parking lot.

​The sounds of Merrill cracking skulls ring out in the night behind us, though I also hear a few punches landing on Bunny. She doesn’t cry out or scream, but after a couple gunshots in response, the punches stop, and gradually the noises fade until the click, click, click of Bunny’s heels following us is the only sound left.

​“Bunny,” I say when she catches up to us, “how many did you leave alive?”

​She shrugs and shoulders her bat. “Enough to get the word out that Keys here is off-limits.”

​So at least one. “And what’s so special about Keys?”

​The living punching bag scoffs. “Hey! I’m right here.”

​“He’s gonna come live with us,” Bunny chirps. “He’s got tons of computer smarts. We could use that in Buntown.”

​I think back to our little corner of Summer City, with its converted shipping crates and storage units. “Uh, Bunny … We don’t have any computers. Or internet access. Or electricity, at least not in most of the unused units.”

​“There’s power in our unit.”

​Great. As if having Doc bunk with us wasn’t cramped enough. Now she wants to add this guy? “Where are we going to get equipment for him, Bun?”

​Typical Bunny already has that covered. “You’re gonna steal it, of course.”

​I sigh and adjust my grip on Keys’s arm. Guess there’s no getting out of this one.

Chapter 3

Keys

Everything hurts. Why does everything have to hurt?

​If I hadn’t been talking with Bunny through chat and text messages for the last few weeks, I might have been more skeptical of the “clinic” setup in her little miniature city of storage units. The tall black man washing his hands in a rusty sink hasn’t said much to me, but since Bunny says he controls the needles in this place, I won’t complain. I’d hate to insult him and wind up with a large-bore I.V. in the most painful place possible. I learned a long time ago that if you play nice with the nurses, you get the smaller needles.

​Once he’s dried his hands and put on some gloves, he opens a plastic drawer and pulls out a bunch of plastic-wrapped supplies. “Bunny says you’re a needle-phobe. Is that right?”

​I nod and swallow past a lump in my throat. “Uh, yeah. They freak me out.”

​Doc—that’s his name, I guess, or at least that’s what Bunny calls him—raises a brow and gestures at my bare chest. “Why get those, then?”

​I look down at my nipple rings. “I, uh, might have been drunk that night.”

​“Might have been?”

​“Okay, I was. Really drunk. I think my boyfriend at the time probably mixed my drinks a bit too heavy, maybe slipped something in ‘em, and the next thing I knew I was waking up with sore nips and his mouth on my dick. So, y’know, it was a trade-off.”

​Doc grunts and starts opening packages. Drape for the little banged-up metal tray he’s got. Suture kits. Vials of something—probably antiseptic, antibiotics, or anesthetics. Gauze. Scalpels. Then, my nemeses: the needles.

​They seem like small enough gauges, but do they have to be so long?

​“You’re not gonna use everything on that tray, are you?”

​“Most of it, yeah. You’re pretty beaten up. I have to make sure I take care of all your injuries.”

​My heart thunders in my chest as he gingerly takes the ice pack off my busted hand to check it out. His touch is gentle enough, but I still wince as he turns my hand over to get a closer look. He clucks his tongue at me and goes back in the drawer for more supplies.

​“Gonna have to splint that. You should regain full use of your fingers, but it’s going to take a while. No computer work for a good six weeks, at least not with this hand. I hope whatever Bunny needs you for can be done one-handed.” His blank expression softens a bit, and he sighs. “What’s your real name? I know it’s not Keys.”

​“Uh, it’s Tommy. Tommy Malone. But no one calls me that, not even my mom.”

​“Keys it is, then.”

​It seems like Doc and the big guy, Kendrick, have no clue why I’m here. As much as Bunny talks about them, I would have thought she’d let them in on her plan, but I guess she’s allowed to keep secrets. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to pry into her business, especially not after she beat the hell out of those fucking jocks who jumped me.

​“Well, it’s gonna slow me down, but I can mana—” He uncaps a particularly long needle and spears the top of a vial with it, distracting me from what I was saying. “Uh … What’s that one for?”

​Doc doesn’t bat an eyelash as he draws up some fluid from the vial. “Anesthetic. It’s going to hurt like hell when I set the bones and splint you, so this will help.”

​Tremors run through me as I lock onto the needle. “C-couldn’t you just do it quick?”

​He raises a brow and looks past me to Kendrick, who’s been standing guard in the corner like he thinks I’m gonna rob the joint. Doc’s head nods almost imperceptibly, and suddenly Kendrick’s tattooed arms are wrapped around me, his hands holding my wrists. Even if I wasn’t beat all to shit, I’d never break that grip.

​“Thanks, Kendrick.”

​I manage not to piss myself when Doc injects my fingers. I only know this because my pants are still dry when I wake up from passing the fuck out. By then, Doc already has my hand bandaged up, and he’s halfway through stitching my split lip. I squeeze my eyes shut again, but thankfully I don’t feel the needle piercing my skin. Just a bit of tugging. He must’ve numbed my lip while I was out.

​Five minutes later, the tray clanks as he sets down his tools, and I hear the snap of gloves being removed.

​“Well, that’s as good as I can get you. You probably won’t scar from any of this, and I can’t see any signs of head injury, but you should still take it easy. Kendrick here will take you to one of our bunks to settle in. If you have any personal items you want brought back from your dorm, he can get them for you.”

​No scarring? That’s a relief. I mean, I’ve got other redeeming qualities, but it’s nice to know I’ll be back to my gorgeous self eventually.

​I follow Kendrick to another storage unit, which has been set up like a mini motel. Or a prison cell … whichever. There’s a camp toilet in the back corner, a mattress that’s seen better days along the wall, and a lone light bulb hangs from the ceiling, flickering in a strobe-like pattern. He shoves a wrinkled, coffee-stained notepad at me. “Here. Write down your dorm room number and what you need. I’ll have it here by tomorrow.”

​I take it and look around, realizing I don’t have anything to write with. “Pen?”

​Kendrick rolls his eyes and digs a pen out of his pocket.

​Since I’m right-handed, and that’s the hand that’s busted, it takes me a while to scribble something even remotely resembling legible. I note my dorm number, where my stuff is, and what’s most important for me to have. My equipment, some clothes, and my cigarettes. Kendrick takes one look at my chicken scratch and scoffs.

​“You’re not getting cigs here, dude. Buntown is a no-smoking zone.”

​My jaw drops. “What? You expect me to quit cold turkey?”

​He sighs and scrubs his beard. “Fine. I’ll swipe you some nicotine patches from the store or something. Anything else?”

​From what Bunny told me, her little commune has everything I’ll really need. Food. Water. Shelter. The basics. There’s no internet, but my cell phone wasn’t busted in the assault, so I should be fine there. I can hotspot for the time being. “No. That should do it.”

​“Cool. Well, settle in. If you need pillows or blankets or something, there’s a storage unit—for actual storage—three doors down on the right. It’s communal, so take what you want. Food and snacks are in there, too, as well as toiletries, bottled water, and I think we’ve got some soda that someone filched recently. No alcohol, but that’s because some of the residents here are underaged. Too much of a pain to try to keep them out of it, so we just don’t keep any around.” He raises a brow. “You’re not alcoholic too, are you?”

​“Nope. Smoking is the worst of my vices.”

​“Good. Getting off the nicotine is going to be bad enough on its own.”

​I’d like to mention that I really don’t want to quit at all, but Kendrick scares me enough that I keep my mouth shut. At well over six feet tall with muscles for days and tattoos covering a good portion of him, I get the impression that he’s not one I should be messing with.

​“Hey, where’d Bunny get off to?”

​He shrugs. “She’s with Doc, probably. Got a nasty shiner saving your ass, so he’s likely checking her out, making sure it’s nothing serious.”

​That’s all the conversation I get. He takes the notepad and disappears into the maze of storage units.

​Once Kendrick leaves to do Kendrick things, I meander over to the storage-storage unit and grab an armful of blankets, pillows, toothpaste, crackers, Spam, and a roll of TP. I should have enough to carry me through however long I’m stuck here. No one has mentioned yet how long that will be, but I figure after a few days, things will calm down, and I can go back home.

​Not that there’s much home to go back to. A bare-bones dorm room with not much more than my computer equipment and a handful of personal possessions. My textbooks, a router, bed, suitcase, and my cigarettes. That’s about it. Still, it’s a place to lay my head when I’m not making a quick buck writing someone’s paper for them or hacking the college mainframe to change a jock’s grade so he can stay on the team.

​That’s how I got into the mess I was in tonight. Someone didn’t take too kindly to word getting out of the form of payment I took for his hacking job, and he recruited a few of his goon buddies to jump me on my way home from class. I barely had time to text Bunny for help before they had me cornered.

​In my opinion, if you don’t want it leaked that you let a computer geek suck your dick in exchange for a solid B, then you should really offer more cash than a measly fifty bucks for the job. And the twenty he offered as “hush money”? Insulting.

​I wonder what I can get from Bunny for the job she’s got planned. She doesn’t have a dick to suck as far as I know, but there’s still plenty of things she and I could do together as payment.

​Although saving my life might end up being all the “payment” I get.

​Bunny herself waltzes into my unit as I’m getting the last of the blankets on the mattress. Like Kendrick said, she’s sporting a black eye on her perfect face, and a wave of guilt hits me. It’s my fault she’s got that.

​I notice she’s wearing glasses, and instead of the pink irises I’m used to seeing in the selfies she sends me, her almond-shaped eyes are brown. Not that I was dumb enough to believe she had pink eyes, but the difference is a little strange to see. The injured eye is bloodshot, but from the smile on her face, you’d think she just had a fun adventure. She’s wearing a torn wife beater and gym shorts, but she still looks just as sexy as she did in the Summer City Hare getup.

​With my good hand, I reach out and brush my fingertips across her cheek, careful not to touch the bruise itself. “Sorry about that.”

​“Why are you apologizing?” she chirps with a grin. “You didn’t hit me, silly.”

​“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have gotten hit if it hadn’t been for me. So, I’m sorry.”

​Bunny strides over to the unit’s sliding door and pulls it down, securing the inside latch. “Maybe you can make it up to me, then.”

​My mind is distracted by the round curves of her ass as she’s bent over, and it takes me a few seconds to respond. “Oh, uh … Yeah. I can, um, like, hack the IRS and take care of any outstanding back taxes or something.”

​Her giggles echo in the small storage unit. “You think I pay taxes?”

​“Well … No … That’s why I figured you might need a hand taking care of them.”

​I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I never get flabbergasted around pretty women. Or pretty men. I’m smooth. Why do I suddenly sound like the nerd I am?

​“I was thinking something more … physical. That is, if your hand doesn’t hurt too much.”

​Oh, Lordy! “Er, uh, yeah, I’d be down.”

​“You’d be down, or you’d go down?” Bunny winks her black eye. “I mean, even beaten up as you are, I’d ride that face all night.” She puts her hand on my chest, and I’m so stunned that even though she barely applies any pressure, I fall back onto the mattress like she tackled me.

​I watch with wide eyes—well, eye, as the one is still swollen shut—as Bunny performs a private strip show for me. She doesn’t have much to take off, but it’s hot as fuck regardless. Within seconds, she stands before me in all her naked glory, and I’d be lying if I said I’m not literally drooling at the sight. Her tan skin is peppered with battle scars from her nights as the Summer City Hare, but that only adds to her wild beauty. The messy pink-and-blue dyed braids … the way she licks her plump lips … It’s all so perfect.

​It’s now that I realize that Keys, playa extraordinaire, is smitten.

​Maybe it’s the fact that she saved my life. Maybe it’s the way she takes charge. Regardless, my heart and my dick both agree that she’s the only girl for me now.

​Bunny wastes no time getting started. She straddles my face and grabs a handful of my hair, looking down at me and meeting me eye to eye. “Eat it like you’re starving,” she says in a commanding tone.

​I resist the urge to respond with an enthusiastic and nerdy “Yes, ma’am!” Instead, I grab her hip with my left hand and pull her down closer, so her wet pussy is within reach.

​One taste, and I’m a goner. I don’t know if she showered or washed up after her fight with the jocks who jumped me, but she smells clean and sweet, and her juicy cunt tastes divine. I try to start slow, to savor this, but Bunny starts grinding against me, and that’s it. I turn into a wild animal, a starving wildebeest that can only be sated with Bunny cum. I lick her lips, nibble on her clit, suck the tiny nub … All the tricks I’ve learned over the years get put into play, and I even slide a couple fingers inside her sopping wet pussy so my mouth can focus on her clit.

​Bunny is an animal. She grunts and moans and screeches and squirms, her back arching and her body quivering as she comes all over me. I’m gonna need a shower when this is over, or at the very least I’ll need to swipe some of the wet wipes I saw in the storage unit. Maybe some dry shampoo, too, because fuck if she doesn’t squirt like a fucking porn star.

​I would think she’s done, but instead she just scoots back on the mattress and unbuckles my belt with speed and desperation, like I’ve got some life-saving equipment in my pants. She whips the leather strap out of the loops and uses it to bind my wrists. I wince a bit as she bumps my broken hand, but I manage not to whimper. Whatever she’s up to, I’m all for it.

​“Oh, fuck, Keys, why did you never tell me you’re packing a fucking python?” she asks as she pulls my hard dick out and gives it a few pumps with her hand.

​“We hadn’t gotten to the dick pic stage of our relationship yet, I guess …”

​I pant and groan as she eases herself onto me. Her pussy’s nice and tight, squeezing me even before she starts to ride. When she does start … Good Lord, the push, the pull, the way she just sucks me in and strokes me with her cunt … My eyes roll back in my head, and I reach forward with my bound hands, blindly hoping to grab a bouncing tit.

​That was apparently the wrong move. Bunny grabs my belt and slams my hands up over my head to the pillow behind. “Don’t.”

​I open my mouth to apologize, but she shuts me up with her lips on mine. Our tongues tussle for a few seconds before she lets up and straightens, back to riding me like I hadn’t just fucked something up.

​Does she not like to be touched during sex? If so, I’ll make a note not to try again in the future.

​“Sorry.”

​She grabs my chin and holds me in an iron grip. “Stop apologizing for shit you didn’t do, or shit you did that wasn’t wrong. I tied your hands because I want you to be a good boy and take this. Maybe later you can play, but right now I’m in charge.”

​Ah. So the leather-and-mesh getup isn’t just for show. She likes taking charge. Noted.

​Once I resign myself to lying back and enjoying it, Bunny relaxes, too. She bounces on my cock like she was born for this, bringing me right over the fucking edge. My balls tighten, my back arches, and my toes curl as I pump her full while her orgasm milks me dry. Sticky cum spreads between us in thick strings, but still, she doesn’t stop. She rides me constantly, bringing me back to full mast before I even have a chance to deflate.

​Holy fuck, if she’s like this all the time, I don’t know if I can keep up!

​I remember her mentioning that she hooks up with both Kendrick and Doc, and now I see why. I doubt one guy could satiate Bunny’s urges if she can keep going after back-to-back orgasms and still want more. I’ve known chicks who were the one and done type, who would roll right back over once they got theirs. Not that it ever bothers me, but it’s kinda nice to meet a woman with more staying power.

​Bunny rides me through two more mind-blowing climaxes before she climbs off and unwraps my wrists. “Yep,” she says as she tosses the belt across the unit, “I think I’m keeping you.”

​There’s not really any discussion of my opinion on the matter, but if she wants me to be a kept man, then I guess I’m a kept man.

​To my dismay, she gets dressed. I sit up and straighten my hair, wishing she’d at least spend the rest of the night here with me. “You got somewhere to be?” I ask.

​Bunny sighs and rolls her eyes. “Kendrick said earlier he still owes me some punishment for running off before he was ready, so I gotta go pay the piper. I’ll be back in the morning, though. You’re in luck! Tuesday is pancake day, and Kendrick makes killer pancakes. I think one of the residents even swiped a bag of chocolate chips, so we’ll feast like kings. Oh! And here. Kendrick said you were craving cigs, so I figured you could substitute these instead.” She flashes a killer smile, tosses a plastic bag on the bed, then disappears out into the night.

​She left me a bag of lollipops.

​I get up and go grab some fresh bedding and those wet wipes from the unit down the way, giving myself a quick pseudo-bath and remaking the mattress before closing the storage unit door and calling it a night.

Chapter 4

Kendrick

I could shoot that little punk Keys.

​His scribble was so fucking illegible that I didn’t notice the fucking “s” at the end of the word “computer.” Now I’m staring at a whole fucking dark web setup crammed into his tiny dorm, and I didn’t have the foresight to hotwire a car to bring the shit back with me.

​His little suitcase, full of what appears to be all the clothing he owns, I could carry. I could even manage a tower and a monitor or two, provided no one tries to fuck with me on the way back. But six—no, seven—computers, twelve monitors, and enough wires and boxes among them to play a fun game of cyber shibari with Bunny? Nope. Not gonna happen. I don’t know what that little fucker was thinking.

​I sigh and scrub my scalp with my hands as I try to figure out how I’m gonna get all this crap back to Buntown. I suppose I could wire one of the student vehicles in the parking lot and use that, but I have no way of knowing if the car I choose will belong to an asshole or a decent person. I’d hate to steal from someone who doesn’t deserve it.

​While I’m pondering the logistics of transporting all of Keys’s worldly possessions, my burner phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see a message from Bunny.

​How’s the looting going? Got Keys’s stuff yet?

​After a few fat-fingered attempts at a readable response, I manage to type out my frustrations on the tiny screen. This model of phone was clearly not designed with a big guy like me in mind. I’ll have to steal something bigger next time.

​Why didn’t you tell me he had a whole fucking computer lab in here? I can’t carry all this crap.

​So? Lift a car or something, silly.

​I groan at Bunny’s nonchalant response. She probably wouldn’t care if she stole from a nice person or not.

​I don’t know which cars belong to the assholes.

​It takes a few minutes for her to respond, and when she does, there’s a screenshot of a DMV profile, complete with license plate and VIN numbers.

​There. Keys says that’s the ringleader of the attack on him last night. He says the dude usually parks pretty close to his dorm. Find that car, and you have your vehicle.

​Great. Not only is she sending me to clean up Keys’s mess, she’s probably in his unit fucking him right now. I know for sure Bunny doesn’t have the resources or the know-how to hack the DMV and get that info.

​Last night after we rescued Keys was bad enough. Now she’s back there? Fuck. I put up with her affair with Doc because I love Bunny, and I want her to be happy, but this is getting ridiculous. She’s starting to collect us like fucking Pokémon or something.

​So, he gets the loving, and I get to haul all this equipment? Doesn’t seem fair.

​Jealous, Kendrick?

​A growl rumbles in my throat. She knows better than to bait me like that.

​You won’t be so cocky when I catch you, Bun.

​Promise?

​Or she’s baiting me on purpose. Little brat. She definitely knows how to push my buttons, and I wonder if she’s not shacking up with Keys because she knows it’ll get me riled up.

​Once I unload all this crap, you’ll have a thirty second head start. That’s it. I mean it, Bun. I’m not playing around.

​Once we end this conversation, my head start starts. You won’t just have to chase me; you’ll have to find me. I might still be in Buntown, or I might be elsewhere in Summer City. Good luck guessing where I am!

​Shit! I pocket the phone and jog down to the parking lot in search of the target car. If I don’t move all this stuff fast, Bunny could be damn near impossible to find … and I definitely want to find her now. This is one of Bunny’s favorite games: Wolf and Bun. She runs, I chase, and when I catch her, I get to have my way with her.

​It’s one of my favorite games, too.

​The equipment transfer takes me a good thirty minutes. Add in the five minutes it took to locate, break into, and hotwire the car, and Bunny’s already got a thirty-five-minute lead on me, and that’s not counting the drive back to Buntown to deliver Keys his stuff. She could get pretty far by the time I drop off the computers and clothes.

​Unless, that is, I don’t drop off the shit yet …

​My lips spread in a wicked grin, and I gun the engine of the stolen Mustang. If there’s one thing I know about Bunny, it’s that she’ll give me a sporting chance. She won’t hide anywhere that I can’t possibly find her, because that ruins her fun. No, she’ll be out in the open, somewhere out of the way but still accessible. I wrack my brain for a good place to start. Bunny’s not necessarily predictable, but she is a bit nostalgic.

​I turn the car away from Buntown and head to a different seedy borough. My gut tells me to check our old haunts, places we holed up before forming Buntown and starting our little commune.

​That’s still a couple dozen locations to check, but it narrows my search a bit. I drive with the radio off and the windows down, ears tuned to the sound of heels on concrete. No doubt she’s wearing that ridiculous getup, the one with the leather and mesh, because she knows it gets a rise out of me.

​Sure enough, I hear the distinctive click, click, click of Bunny’s heels after about ten minutes of driving. It’s coming from an alley near an old, abandoned grocery store. We lived off the canned goods in there for weeks before having to move on and find more food, and life was good then. It was before we found Doc, before she took up the mantle of the Summer City Hare, before life got complicated.

​It was where we first made love, on what she told me was her eighteenth birthday. It was the place I went from being a substitute father figure to a lover, where she finally made my dreams come true.

​I cut the engine and drift silently into the parking lot, coming to a halt just outside the front entrance. The car door creaks when I open it, and I curse under my breath. It’s a quiet night; I’m sure she heard that.

​The heels stop. I strain my ears, but all sound around the dilapidated store seems to have ceased. I don’t even hear the late-night traffic from nearby streets.

​Abandoning the car—and thousands of dollars’ worth of Keys’s computer equipment—I creep around the side of the building. My heart pumps hard in my chest, eager for what’s coming. When I catch Bunny, all bets are off. The best part is she knows this, and she’s just as eager as I am.

​At the corner of the back alley, I spot Bunny at the far end of the building. She’s crouched by the opposite corner, peering out towards the street.

​She picked the wrong corner.

​I try to tiptoe, to move quietly, but I accidentally trip on a discarded glass bottle, creating a racket. Bunny gasps and jumps to her feet. She’s off before I can recover, and I break into a run after her. My feet slam into the pavement as I chase after her. Adrenaline surges in my veins. I’m gonna have a lot of pent-up energy to burn when I get hold of her.

​Bunny’s braids bounce on her shoulders as she runs away from me. I speed up, closing the gap. She may be smaller and generally faster, but I have a longer stride.

​There’s no escaping me now.

​I close the gap. Close in on her. Ten feet becomes six feet becomes three, putting her within reach.

​Her braids, stylish though they may be, are her downfall in the end. I grab the ends and yank, pulling her off her feet. I catch her before she falls and wrap my arm around her waist. We skid to a stop in the parking lot, between the storefront and the stolen car. It’s not the most ideal spot for a quickie, but it’ll do. At least the Mustang blocks us from view of most of the traffic, and if anyone walking by tries to mess with us, they’ll have me to deal with.

​Bunny laughs breathlessly as I bring her to the ground. Even as I’m unbuckling my belt and spreading her legs with my knees, she’s giggling like a madwoman. Like the sociopath she is.

​“Good catch, Daddy. Gotta admit I had you going for a minute there, though.”

​“Did I tell you to talk?” I wrap her hands with the belt and make certain they’re secure before I give myself the freedom to lower my pants. My dick springs out as soon as I pull my boxers down, so painfully hard that it rests against my stomach. The Jacob’s ladder on the underside glints in the streetlights.

​“Why do you push my buttons, Bun? You know it never ends with you winning.”

​Her chest heaves with each breath, and the sight of those leather-clad breasts stirs something animalistic in me. I rip off her thong, tear her fishnets, and shove my thick fingers in her wet pussy. Bunny moans and grinds against my hand. Her smooth, slick walls clench on me, and I can’t wait any longer.

​When I thrust in, Bunny screams and arches her back. She wraps her legs around my waist, locking her ankles behind me.

​It’s like coming home. Like she’s made just for me, like her cunt has been waiting for my cock since the beginning of time. The warm sheath hugs me tight, squeezing and stroking me better than any hand job, sucking me in even better than Bunny’s own mouth can.

​It doesn’t matter that we’re in a parking lot, practically out in the open. It doesn’t matter that Bunny has nothing other than Keys’s clothes to cover her shame when we’re done. Nothing matters but me and Bun, together. Two pieces destined to be one. Or, as Bunny seems to think, three or four pieces destined for … for what?

​“Fuck!” I pull out, deflated by my own intrusive thoughts.

​Bunny whines. “Why’d you stop?”

​“You’re keepin’ him, aren’t you?” It’s less of a question and more me speaking my fears aloud. “You never give this much attention to one of the strays we pick up, at least you haven’t since we brought Doc into the mix.”

​She groans and rolls her eyes at me. “Jesus fuck, Kendrick, is that really why you stopped? Are you sure you’re not jealous or something?”

​“I’m not jealous! I’m just confused.” I stuff myself back into my pants and retrieve my belt. The moment is over. “You said you loved me, Bun.”

​“I do love you, Kendrick.”

​“Then why Doc? Why Keys now?”

​Bunny just shrugs. “I love Doc, too. And I don’t know Keys well enough yet, but I know I like him a lot. He’s smart. Oh, don’t give me that look! He’s smart in a different way than you or Doc. You have street smarts, Doc has medical smarts … and Keys has computer smarts.”

​“So, what, you’re collecting brains? When you’re done, do you think we’ll combine to form the smartest boyfriend ever? That’s not how this works.”

​Tears spring to Bunny’s eyes, and I realize I’ve just fucked up. Bunny doesn’t cry.

​Ever.

​“It’ll work out,” she whispers. “You’ll see.”

​She gets up and storms off, not even bothering to try to cover herself as she stomps through the parking lot. I watch her bare ass sway as she disappears into the night, knowing I won’t see her again until she calms down.

​I feel like the biggest jerk on the planet.

​Five years I’ve known Bunny. I met her at her lowest point, on the worst night of her life. I have never seen her get this upset, never seen her cry.

​Time to limp back to Buntown with my tail between my legs and hope she returns.

Chapter 5

Doc

I don’t know what’s more shocking: the fact that Bunny got upset enough to walk out on Kendrick, or the fact that Kendrick has come to me, of all people, to talk about it.

​“And you say she was … crying?”

​He nods and sniffles, the big man himself teary-eyed and hiccupping with sobs. “Yeah. I fucked up big-time, Doc. What if she doesn’t come back?”

​Kendrick and I don’t have a buddy-buddy relationship. He’s never mean to me, never rude or cruel, but he keeps his distance. He puts up with me for Bunny’s sake. Any dream I might have to the contrary is just that—a dream. Kendrick is too big, too tough, too macho to ever think of me the way I think of him. Still, it would be wrong of me not to console him when he’s so upset, so I put a hand on his massive, tattooed shoulder and rub the stiff muscles.

​“Give yourself a break, Kendrick. Bunny’s a … unique soul. You had no way of knowing she’d react like this.”

​He hangs his head and wipes his eyes with the back of his beefy hand. “I know I’m not the only guy for her. You’re proof enough of that, but still … Keys? The dude’s a wimp. He can’t even handle you wielding a needle in front of him. How’s he gonna react in a real fight? I’ll tell you how: He’s gonna get his ass kicked, just like last night. You, at least, can fend for yourself. You’ve been there, like the rest of us. Keys doesn’t know how to get out of a bad situation if sucking dick isn’t the right answer.”

​“So, Keys isn’t a fighter. So what? Bunny seems to really like him. Why not give him a chance? Why is his budding relationship with Bunny so upsetting to you?”

​I should’ve paid more attention in my psych rotation. I feel like I’m not saying the right things to comfort Kendrick, like I might only make him feel worse. The only thing I do know for certain, and I’m pretty sure that, deep down, Kendrick knows it too, is that Bunny’s already made up her mind about Keys. Like it or not, he’s here to stay.

​That’s part of what we love about Bunny, though. She loves unconditionally and completely, and when she decides she loves you, it’s for life. I say as much to Kendrick, and he sighs.

​“You’re right, I guess. I just don’t know how to deal with this. I was fine sharing her with you, but a third guy … I just don’t know.”

​I shouldn’t ask, but I have to know. “Why is it okay that she’s with me?”

​Kendrick leans into my touch. “Because I like you, too. You’re a good guy, Doc.”

​Oh, great. “A good guy.” That doesn’t bode well for him developing the same feelings I have.

​I stop rubbing his shoulder, disappointed. “Is that all I am? A good guy?”

​“What’s wrong with that? It’s a compliment.”

​He turns to look at me, and I flash a wry grin to try to mask my pain. “Like saying I have a great personality would be a compliment?”

​An unreadable emotion crosses Kendrick’s face, followed by a frown. “I didn’t mean it like that. You have a good heart. You’re kind. You take care of others. That’s important, especially here. Most of the people who come to Bunny’s little corner of Summer City don’t have that in their lives. Don’t discount the good that you do for them.”

​For them. But not for him.

​“Well, I gotta clean up the clinic. Mind giving me a hand?”

​“Sure.”

​Together we make short work of the mess in the clinic. A few of the kids in Buntown got into a bit of a wrestling match, just playing around, but one of them cut himself pretty badly in the process. I had to have another kid hold pressure while I stitched him up, something Kendrick usually does for me. For all that he’s a big, hulking brute of a guy, he’s also incredibly gentle when he wants to be, which makes him a useful nurse in a pinch.

​My hands are shaking by the end of it all, and I realize I haven’t had a proper date night with Bunny in a while. She’s been busy with some secret project, whatever it is that brought Keys here, so she hasn’t had time to, as she puts it, “go full Kendrick” on me. I know she learned her Domme skills by experiencing life as a sub to Kendrick, and sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have the tall, muscular man at the other end of the ropes. All I have of that right now are my fantasies, though, and I suspect that’s all I’ll ever get.

​Kendrick surprises me by taking my hand in his just as I’m locking up the clinic. “That’s a pretty bad tremor, Doc. You’re not jonesing, are you?”

​He knows me too well. I shrug and scratch the back of my neck as beads of sweat form on my forehead. “A little. I’ll be fine.”

​I don’t think I convinced him. “Come with me.”

​I follow Kendrick through the maze of storage units until we get to one I’m familiar with: His private unit with Bunny. No one ever dares go in there, not even the boldest of the residents. No one wants to risk Kendrick’s wrath.

​“Uh, Kendrick? Why are we going in here?”

​His entire demeanor changes in an instant as he unlocks the unit. He stands taller, his eyes get darker, and there’s a tic in his jaw. “Get in.”

​I hesitate, but only for a second. Something tells me I should behave when he’s like this.

​The door to the storage unit closes behind us, and Kendrick flips a switch. The unit floods with light, and I’m greeted with a BDSM setup worthy of some of the finer-class dungeons. Sawhorse with a padded saddle, chains, ropes, paddles, ball gags … There’s a whole array of goodies in here.

​I turn to Kendrick with my eyebrow raised. “I knew you taught Bunny, but I didn’t know it was this extensive.”

​Before I can even think, his hand is around my throat. “Did I say you could speak?”

​Uh oh. I may have just bitten off more than I can chew. With slow, cautious movements, I reach up and rearrange his grip. “This is how you do it. It’s safer.”

​Kendrick blinks for a moment, but he recovers quickly. “Tell me how Bunny does it.”

​I’m not emotionally ready for a lesson in Bunny’s Domme tactics, especially not with Kendrick. I trust him with my life and more, but it would take ages to explain the dynamic I’ve developed with Bunny. “Don’t worry about how Bunny does it. Do it your way.”

​When his lips come crashing into mine, I let out a sigh of pure bliss.

​Kendrick’s other hand cups my hard cock through my pants, and he inches me backwards while we kiss until I’m backed up against the sawhorse. I grab the saddle for balance. The hand on my throat snakes back to tug on my dreads, tipping my head back and exposing my neck. He nuzzles and nips with his teeth, tiny little nibbles that send chills down my spine.

​“This is new for me,” he mutters against my skin. “It’s always been Bunny, or …”

​His words trail off, but I know what he means. “Or a woman.”

​“Yeah.”

​Shit. “If you want to stop, if you don’t want to do this … I can hold off. Try to make it until Bunny gets back.” Not that I haven’t been dying for this very moment, but if he’s not feeling it, I’d rather deal with the withdrawals.

​He growls and grips my dick tighter. “We don’t know when Bunny will be back. I need you here with us in case shit goes down. I need you alert and steady.”

​Ah, there it is. He needs Sober Doc. The sex is just a means to bring that guy to the surface.

​Before I can object again, he unzips my jeans and reaches his hand in. The mouth at my neck gets more insistent, needier. My training takes over, and I go limp, waiting for my next instructions. When Bunny gets like this, she’s usually about to burst. Kendrick, too, seems to be on the edge of … something, but what I can’t tell. He’s going through the motions, but is he really into this?

​My question is answered a moment later when his hips press into me. There’s no denying that at least a part of him—a very large, very hard part—is all in.

​“Strip.”

​I don’t need to be told twice. I whip my shirt over my head and fumble to get out of my pants. Kendrick provides stability and support while I race to get naked. I’ve never undressed so fast in all my life.

​“Get on the saddle.”

​I bite back the urge to say, “Yes, sir.” Is he the “sir” type? I know Bunny calls him Daddy when they’re in the moment, but that doesn’t mean he’d want me calling him that.

​Kendrick’s breath comes in ragged huffs as he ties my legs to the saddle. He works on my arms next, binding them behind me. Finally, he puts a gag on me. I relax into the familiar sensation of being bound, of being controlled. For some reason, it’s the only thing Bunny and I have found that keeps the drug cravings at bay. Even in my darkest hours, she’s always been able to bring me back by taking charge.

​“I’m about to get rough, Doc. I’ve got lube here, but … Just brace yourself.”

​His voice is strained, like he can barely contain himself. He runs his hands over his bald scalp as he looks over me. “Fuck, Doc. You’re—you’re really fucking beautiful. I’ve never told you that … Fuck, I’ve never even admitted it to myself. But you are.”

​He disappears from view, walking behind me, and I hear the snap of a cap opening. The scent of strawberries fills the unit, and moments later his mouth is back on my neck as his fingers deliver warming lube to my ass. He slides them inside, one then two then three, slowly prepping me for him.

​“I’ll try to go easy on you, Doc, but I’m about to fucking burst. Just … hum if it gets to be too much. Um … we’ll pick Oh! Suzannah. That’s an easy one.”

​He’s rambling, nervous, but I almost expect that. It’s comforting that he’s taking precautions even with his nerves strung tight, though. I’ve been with guys who forget safety measures, and even Bunny sometimes gets carried away and forgets to work these things out ahead of time. I nod and grunt my affirmation. Oh! Suzannah it is.

​The seconds tick by as Kendrick fingers my ass. His other hand snakes around to my front and grabs my cock, stroking me gently. Despite his warnings, he’s being careful. Sweet, almost. I moan into the gag, strings of drool running down my chin. My eyelids flutter then shut as I give in to the sweet oblivion of obedience.

​The sawhorse creaks as Kendrick’s considerable weight is added. He settles in behind me on the saddle and positions himself. From the feel of it, he’s added lube to his cock as well. Good. Hopefully he doesn’t rip anything. As much dick as I’ve taken as a former junkie, I’m well aware that the tissue there is delicate, and I’ve never been with a guy who’s pierced like Kendrick is. I have to admit, though, that I can’t wait to feel those studs massaging me from the inside.

​He eases himself inside, taking it slowly, but from the way he trembles I can tell he’s not far from losing control. To be honest, the Dom aspect of this ritual is probably helping him as much as it’s helping me, just in a different way.

​“Jesus, fuck! You’re so tight, Doc.” He pauses halfway in, shuddering. “Fuck. I might not last long.”

​That’s all the warning I get before he lets loose.

​With one hand on my hip and one around my neck—taking what I showed him earlier and using the proper grip—he pounds into me. I scream and pant and moan and groan as his dick drags in and out. The piercings feel as amazing as I’d imagined, and each stroke sends a fresh wave of passion rolling through me. My cock weeps precum as it bounces against the saddle horn.

​Kendrick grunts in time with his thrusting hips. His teeth sink into my shoulder, and that added bite of pain sends me over the edge. I let out a long, drawn-out scream as I come all over the front of the saddle in hot bursts. Kendrick pants faster and faster until he releases inside me with a shout. He stills, buried to the hilt, and heaves for air as he comes.

​I expect him to pull out, untie me, and be on his merry way, but instead he stays like that for several minutes, peppering my neck with kisses and rubbing my thighs.

​“That was amazing, Doc. You okay?”

​I grunt against the gag.

​“Oh, shit!” Kendrick finally pulls out, then rushes to untie me. “Hold still. Sometimes Bunny’s muscles get wobbly after this, and I don’t want you falling down.”

​As soon as he’s got me untied, he grabs a tub of muscle rub and starts working it into some of my stiffer spots. I’m surprised he can tell where I’m sore without me directing him. For a few moments, we fall into a strangely comfortable silence. Finally, Kendrick breaks the ice.

​“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

​I shake my head. “No. That was perfect.”

​He pauses. Tips my chin up with a finger. Kisses me.

​“Things are gonna change now, aren’t they? We can’t ever go back.” He sounds wistful, almost sad.

​“Do you regret that?” I ask cautiously, afraid of the answer.

​For the first time in my recollection, Kendrick blushes. “I actually regret that I didn’t do it sooner.”

​We spend the rest of the night in Kendrick’s private unit, the one he usually shares with Bunny, kissing and cuddling until we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Chapter 6

Bunny

I can’t believe the nerve of Kendrick! Getting all possessive when he knows damn good and well that my heart can’t just sit in one place forever.

​I also can’t believe the nerve of the MotoBoys who grabbed me on my way back to Buntown. The assholes have no class. They nabbed me without so much as a “How do you do,” then tied me up—incorrectly, I might add—and tossed me in a van. A dirty van. Rude.

​At least I bit a few of the fuckers in the process. One is on his way to the ER right now, on account of the fact that I took a chunk out of his neck.

​Despite the shit job of tying me, I can’t get loose. My shoulder is all out of whack, and they really did a number on those knots. Way overboard, in my opinion. I mean, I’m just a chick; I shouldn’t be that much of a threat to them.

​Except I shot one of their dudes. And beaned him with Merrill. And took back the money that he took from Kyle.

​Okay, so maybe I’m a bit of a threat.

​These guys are lucky I didn’t have Merrill or my gun with me when they jumped me. They’re also lucky I had snatched some pants from a twenty-four-hour market, so at least I wasn’t half naked when they got hold of me. I tend to be a bit feral when I’m exposed like that.

​Okay, so maybe I’m a bit feral anyway.

​The fuckers took my burner phone. They almost took the flash drive I had stuffed in my corset top, too, but I guess they decided it wasn’t worth anything. Dumbasses.

​I should probably thank these idiots for snatching me. I heard them muttering something about taking me to Chico, which means they have unwittingly moved up the timetable on my plan to infiltrate their club and sneak the flash drive into one of their computers. Now I just need to get free and do just that, and Keys’s spyware can do the rest.

​Kendrick doesn’t know it, but I’ve been working with Keys for a while now. He’s been monitoring the MotoBoys’ internet use and reporting back to me what he finds.

​Before Jimmy shook Kyle down for his cash, I already had Chico and the MotoBoys in my sights. These dudes have terrorized Summer City long enough, and it was high time I got myself a hobby. What better way to kill time than to obsess over taking down one of the biggest criminal organizations in the city?

​“Hey! Dickface!”

​About ten goons turn in unison when I say that. Nice.

​“Who’s in charge here? Y’all got a boss, or do you guys just take turns sucking each others’ dicks?”

​That earns me a smack in the face, along with a cut from the dude’s ring. It won’t scar if I get to Doc in time, but it’s still annoying. “Dude! I need my face intact! Do you seriously think I can get by on just my winning personality?”

​I mean, I probably can, but it’s the principle.

​“How about you suck my dick, gorgeous, and maybe I’ll have our medic clean up that cut?”

​The goon who offers is both skeevy and a little gamy. Probably sweats a lot when he’s riding his motorcycle. He’s scrawny, too, and I just don’t dig that. Even Keys has some lean muscle to his bones, but this guy is all wiry and thin. How does he even control his bike?

​I bet he’s someone’s bitch here. They’re probably letting him taunt me to try and earn some kind of rank in the organization.  Little does he know who he’s messing with.

​I look at his flat crotch—not even a hint of a dick to suck there—and snort. “Please. I don’t do chicks. Even if I did, you’re not my type. All skin and bones, no tits to grab onto.”

​That earns a backhand from the other side of me, this time sans rings. No cut, but it still stings.

​“Fucking bitch! Don’t talk to Jonesy that way.”

​Ah. Found the bitch’s Daddy. Bet he doesn’t top as well as Kendrick. This one’s big and beefy, emphasis on the beef, and he probably eats my weight in hot wings every Tuesday night. I’m surprised he doesn’t crush little Jonesy when he pounds into him.

​I spit blood on his shoes and grin. “So, does that mean you’re in charge, or are you just in charge of Jonesy?”

​Daddy Beef turns an interesting shade of red, and he looks about two seconds away from belting me again when a new voice calls out from the front of the shithole warehouse they’ve got me in.

​“Hot Dog! Stand the fuck down!”

​I snort again, then almost double over with laughter. I would definitely double over if I wasn’t tied to the chair. “Hot Dog? Your gang name is legit Hot Dog? What does that make Jonesy? Your Bun?” I wink at Jonesy, who’s red enough himself to confirm my Dom theory about the two men. “Y’know, I go by Bun, too. Bunny if you’re an ass to me, though.”

​The voice from the door calls out again. “We’re gonna call you an ambulance if you’re nice. A hearse if you’re an ass.”

​I roll my eyes at the lame attempt at banter. “Lemme guess. Chico Angelo, the one and only, live and in person?” I’d squint against the early morning sunlight pouring in behind the guy, but then I’d lose cool points. Better to pretend I can see him just fine.

​“My reputation precedes me, eh?” He steps forward out of the sun, and I choke on more laughter. He’s fit enough, probably works out and knows how to throw a punch, but the dude did not fare well in the puberty department. His face is so scarred and pockmarked that I can barely spot a half inch of clear space, and he seems to have failed to outgrow the greasy hair of youth. I can tell he’s grown, though, because the dude has enough grey streaks to make a pro stylist jealous and plenty of wrinkles worked in among the acne scars. He’s got killer eyes though. Baby blues that just pop.

​“What’s so fucking funny, bitch? Where I stand, you’re not in a position to laugh at anyone.”

​I can’t answer right away on account of needing to catch my breath, literally wheezing with laughter as he struts towards me. “Dude, I’m always in a position to laugh.”

​Predictably, he punches me. The surprise is that he hits me in the gut. It winds me, sure, but if he thinks he’s gonna do damage to anything crucial for childbearing, he’s got another thing coming. Doc fixed that plumbing for me a couple years ago, after it became clear that sometimes Kendrick and I forget things like pills and condoms.

​“Oh, no!” I shriek in mock horror. “My baby!”

​A few of the gangbangers step back with terrified looks on their faces. One guy grabs a crucifix hanging around his neck and crosses himself. It’s enough to make me laugh all over again, but I kinda don’t want to invite another gut punch if I can avoid it. Need my lungs full and healthy for the fight to get out of here later.

​“Oh, please! You seriously think I’d run around Summer City half naked swinging a bat at losers if I was preggers? Idiots.”

​Chico grabs my throat, but he doesn’t have nearly the grip strength that Kendrick does. Not impressive in the slightest. I’m even a bit insulted that he’s maybe not trying hard enough.

​“You calling Jimmy a loser? That’s a funny way to speak of the dead.”

​Is he serious? “I barely nicked the guy. A broken nose and a bullet to the kneecap? He’s fine.”

​The gang leader’s tobacco breath assaults me as he leans in closer. “That bullet to the kneecap nicked an artery. It seems your aim was a bit off, Bad Little Bunny. Perhaps, if I let you live, you’ll take lessons to improve it.”

​Hmm … Bad Bunny, huh? I dig it. Alliterative.

​“Look, he took my friend’s money. I was just trying to get it back. Not my fault he was an ass about it.” I grin as Chico turns red in the face. “You’ve got fifty bucks of that money, too. Your cut, Jimmy said. That’s, like, a weird percentage, dude. Fifty bucks out of three fifty? I mean, that’s …” I suddenly remember that I dropped out of high school at sixteen and never paid much attention in the first place. “That’s a really dumb percentage.”

​The red face gets redder, and Chico squeezes my neck. “Do you have a death wish, rabbit?”

​“Maybe,” I squeak out. “Do you want children?”

​My change of subject seems to break his concentration a bit. His grip loosens, and he blinks a few times. “Children?”

​I answer with a swift knee in his ball sack. He lets go of me and doubles over. Guns chamber all around us as his goons ready to back him up. I just giggle and shift my weight in the chair. Between my earlier struggles and the more recent jostling from all the punches and stuff, the ropes have loosened a bit. Not much, but enough.

​Did I mention these dudes didn’t tie me up right?

​“You, sir, are a dumbass. Give me Kyle’s fifty bucks, and I’ll walk away from here. No fuss, no muss.”

​I just need one hand free. Just a little more …

​Chico puts his hand on the back of the chair. Wheezes a bit. Gets just close enough for me.

​Before anyone else can get a shot off, I whip my hand out of the loosened ropes, snatch his gun out of the waist of his pants, and shoot at the lights.

​Bitch-ass gangster said my aim sucked. Suck on this, Chico!

​The warehouse plunges into semi-darkness. The sun still streams in from the door, but it’s at a bad angle for just about everyone involved, and they had me sitting far enough back that it doesn’t reach the chair. While the bangers scramble to figure out what’s going on, I slip free of the rest of the ropes and dive for a nearby table. Luckily, it’s a metal one, so when I tip it over for cover, the bullets ricochet instead of plowing through and hitting me.

​“Bad move, Chico!” I shout over the echoing gunfire. “Now I have your gun, and you’ve got diddly squat.”

​“You’ve cornered yourself, rabbit. You should’ve run while you had the chance.”

​Except I’m not done here yet. I have a flash drive to plant, plus I’ve still gotta get Kyle’s remaining fifty bucks.

​Once my eyes adjust to the change in lighting, I spot the computer I want. Unfortunately, it’s clear across the room. I’ve got about ten guys with guns and one Chico between me and my goal.

​There’s also the slight problem that my calf got hit when I ran for cover.

​While I debate my next move, I unbuckle some of the straps from my outfit and fashion a makeshift tourniquet just above the wound. It won’t completely stop the bleeding, but it’ll slow it down enough until I can get back to Doc.

​Shit! Doc! I completely forgot that he’s overdue for a session. I hope he’s holding out okay.

​I make a quick promise to myself to take care of Doc when I get back, throw up a prayer to whoever the fuck might be listening, and make a run for it.

​Keeping low, I dart across the room to the desk in the open back office, where I spotted the laptop. I slam the door shut and block it by upending a heavy file cabinet in front of it. There. That’ll at least stall them while I get this part of the job done.

​A quick check confirms that, to my relief, the laptop’s already powered on. Good. I won’t have to waste time booting it.

​As soon as I slide the drive in, I realize a fatal flaw in my plan: I don’t have my phone.

​How am I gonna call Keys to let him know he’s in? Fuck.

​Time for Bunny to use what few computer skills she has to get creative. I swipe the trackpad and bring up the browser while Chico and Co. bang at the door. A few quick clicks and button-presses later, and I’ve sent Keys an online text. I just hope he has his phone near him, and that Kendrick has delivered the goods by now.

​I tap my fingers on the desk as I wait for a response. The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly, but after about a minute, Keys responds.

​I’m in.

​How much time do you need?

​There’s a slight pause. Five minutes.

​I jump as a particularly strong thud nudges the file cabinet about half an inch. They’ll eventually get in, but I might have a couple minutes.

​You’ve got three. Maybe two.

​Suddenly, the cursor starts moving on its own. Windows pop up and disappear so fast that I can’t tell what’s happening. Keys is working his magic, which means I need to buy as much time as possible for him to do what we planned.

​I sigh and chamber the gun. Time to play.

​I creep over to the light switch, keeping clear of the gap in the door, and flip off the lights. They’ll at least have a harder time hitting me now. A couple shots ring out, but nothing lands. The bullets hit the door, the frame, even the file cabinet, but no new holes in me. They don’t have enough of an opening yet, or at least none of them have the aim to get through it.

​I’ve got maybe an inch now, maybe, of space near the bottom of the door, under the file cabinet, where I can safely fire without risk of getting hit. The angle sucks, because I have nothing higher than ankles that I can hit, but taking out their ankles might bring some of them low enough for me to land more devastating shots.

​Two ankles later, I’ve pissed them off, but I’m no closer to killing any of them. Not that it’s my primary goal today—more of a bonus round—but seeing as how I plan on killing them all eventually, it really would be more efficient to start now.

​What got me focused on the MotoBoys was Keys. I helped him out of a jam at the college, similar to the fight me and Kendrick broke up last night, and he told me how he stumbled on some files pointing to the MotoBoys being responsible for about half the illegal weapons being funneled into Summer City. Normally that wouldn’t bother me too much, but some of my friends have been hurt by those weapons, and I aim to take out the source.

​So, yeah, Kendrick might not know about the real reason behind my mission to get Kyle’s fifty bucks back, but if he thinks it’s because I liked the movie Payback, I’m not gonna correct him just yet.

​Oh, right! I almost forgot: Kyle’s money. A quick look around now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness shows me a neat pile of wrapped bills on another desk in the corner. I doubt the cash actually belonged to Kyle originally, but since I can’t get the specific bills that were taken from Kyle off Chico at the moment, I’ll just take some of this cash and give Kyle fifty bucks from it. And any leftover goes to funding Buntown.

​I’m so proud of myself for my criminal genius.

​Two more strong thuds, and now they can get a couple arms in here. I duck back behind the file cabinet and sweep my side of the room for something to carry the money in. I didn’t exactly bring a purse.

​Score! There’s a sack under the desk. It’s got some bricks of drugs inside—cocaine, from the looks of ‘em—which I rip open and toss on the ground to make room for the cash. Let them snort it off the floor if they really want it.

​Now, if only I could get out without being riddled with bullets …

​Tires screech outside, footsteps thunder closer, and I hear a familiar voice shouting at me from outside.

​“Bun! Ventilation shaft, top right corner.”

​Kendrick’s here! He had to have broken some traffic laws to get here so fast. That, or Chico’s warehouse is closer to Buntown than I’d like. Has the dude been right under our noses this whole time?

​I don’t know how Kendrick knows there’s a shaft, but I trust him. I shove the closest desk to the corner and climb up, feeling in the dark for a grate I can pop off. Sure enough, there’s one right where Kendrick said it would be. I toss the bag in ahead of me then pull myself up and in, grateful for Kendrick’s rigorous physical training program. As I’m kicking the outside grate off and jumping into his arms, I hear a ruckus coming from the echoing shaft.

​“Get in there, Jonesy! You’re the only one small enough to fit.”

​Ha! Jonesy’s gonna be in a world of trouble when they realize I got away.

​“C’mon, Kendrick. Let’s get home.” I pick up the bag and head for the Mustang he stole from the campus.

​“Bunny, you’re hurt.”

​I look down at my leg. “It’s just a flesh wound, silly. Now let’s go before Jonesy back there makes it through the shaft, or the other MotoBoys wise up and come around the front.”

Chapter 7

Keys

My connection suddenly cuts off, but I’ve done my part. Now to let the program do its work.

​I can’t believe the MotoBoys have been hiding out so close to Bunny’s little commune. It’s a bit terrifying that I went from weekly beat-downs at the college to living practically next door to a biker gang. I don’t consider that a step in the safe direction, despite Bunny’s offer of protection.

​At least they don’t know about Buntown, or if they do, it’s not anywhere in their systems. I checked their emails and texts while I was in there, but so far Bunny’s off their radar—except for the whole “shooting one of them” things. That might come back to bite us in the ass later.

​Who am I kidding? It’s definitely going to bite us in the ass later.

​Good thing I was able to catch Kendrick’s attention and send him after her while I worked. I hope they make it back okay.

​While I wait for news, I suck on a lollipop as I busy myself with setting up my systems. Now that Bunny’s gotten me in, I have more time to arrange my computers in a semi-usable config. Problem is, since no one in Buntown really bothers with electronics, I’m sorely lacking in furniture and supplies. It would be nice to have a couple of desks and a chair, some surge protectors, extension cords, and the like. Still, I have the bare bones for what I need. I just have to pare down until we can arrange something better. Hard as fuck to do with only one hand to work with, but I manage.

​It’s a little barbaric, if I’m being honest. Down to three monitors and two laptops. Who lives like this?

​Fifteen minutes after Bunny’s last text, the sound of tires screeching reaches my ears.

​I stop what I’m doing and rush outside. The jock’s Mustang is right smack in the middle of the rows of storage units, and Kendrick’s running from the driver’s side to the passenger door. He opens it and helps Bunny out. She’s limping, with a makeshift tourniquet on her leg, but other than the bloody gunshot wound in her calf I don’t see any major injuries. Her face is kinda roughed up, with a second black eye to match the one she got rescuing me, but otherwise she seems fine … relatively speaking.

​What the fuck happened?

​Kendrick waves off anyone who tries to get close, but I still follow them to the clinic unit. Yeah, I’m a chicken shit, and the guy terrifies me almost more than the MotoBoys, but I care about Bunny. I want to be sure that she’s okay. That overrides any fear I might have.

​Slipping in just as Doc’s closing everyone out of the clinic, I dart to the corner and grab a rusty stool to sit on. Kendrick shoots me a vicious glare, but I somehow win the stare-down. He sighs and puts on a pair of gloves. “Don’t touch anything, and don’t get in our way,” he says while Doc checks Bunny out.

​“What happened, Bun?”

​She answers Doc’s question by launching into a detailed account of the past twenty-four hours, skimming over the gunshot wound like it was a papercut. Doc pinches the bridge of his nose and points to her leg. “Here, Bun. What happened to your leg? And are you hurt anywhere else?”

​“Huh? Oh, that. I’m fine.” She flashes a stunning—if bruised—grin. “I used what you taught me, see? The tourniquet trick worked great.”

​“That ‘trick’ is a medical procedure.”

​“Whatever. It worked.”

​Doc shakes his head with a heavy sigh. “Okay, Kendrick, get it cleaned and prep the sterile field. I’ll remove the tourniquet and the bullet and stitch her up. Luckily, it looks like it’s pretty minor.”

​Minor? She was shot!

​“You sure you want to stay here, Keys? I’m going to be using needles.”

​It takes a second to register that Doc’s talking to me. “I’m fine.” It’s a lie. I’m not fine. I just realized how much deep shit I’m in, and I’m scared. It’s one thing when everything’s on the other side of a monitor, but when I’m in the thick of it, that’s a whole other story.

​Kendrick mutters something under his breath as he irrigates Bunny’s wound. I don’t catch all of it, but I hear my name in there. “You got a problem with me, Kendrick?”

​I have no clue why I poked the bear, but I did.

​He slams the syringe down on the counter. “Yeah, I kinda do. How the fuck did you just coincidentally know where Bunny was and how to get her out of there?”

​Jesus Christ, is that his problem? “I was in their systems. It wasn’t difficult to get her location, and it just took a few more keystrokes to get the schematics for the building and find a way out of the only room wired for internet.”

​Bunny grins again, like she just won the freaking lottery. “Told you he was smart.”

​“Oh, please. Like you can get info like that in real life.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “He’s probably a MotoBoy himself. A plant.”

​That’s enough of that. I wasn’t planning on showboating, but since he insists on being an ass, I might as well let him know who he’s messing with. I’m more than just a pretty face, and it’s high time he got that stick out of his ass when it comes to me.

​“Kendrick Dwayne Ruger. Arrested seven times for underground fighting and illegal gambling on said fights. That is, until he met a certain teenaged sociopath five years ago, when the fights suddenly stopped, and he fell off the police’s radar. Has an official address at 1575 Grand Avenue in Summer City, but that place has been abandoned and condemned for three years now. Graduated from Summer City High, class of … Well, let’s just say you’re older than Bunny here. Shall I recite your driver’s license and Social Security numbers as well?”

​Kendrick’s jaw drops, and Doc snickers as he works on Bunny.

​“Like I said: smart.”

​Doc holds his hand out to Kendrick. “Gauze.”

​Kendrick snaps out of it enough to hand Doc the bandages. The room goes quiet while Doc finishes up. For some reason, Bunny keeps looking back and forth from Doc to Kendrick, like she’s inspecting their actions. Finally, after about ten minutes of this, just as Doc is wrapping up her leg with Coban, Bunny jumps off the table and grabs both men in a random bear hug.

​“I knew it!” She bounces up and down and kisses each man on the lips. “I’m so happy for you.”

​What is she talking about, and why is Kendrick so red in the face?

​“It’s not a big deal,” he says, as though Bunny’s outburst makes any sense. “Don’t make it into a thing, Bun.”

​Doc breaks into a rare smirk and shakes his head. Bunny giggles. “Oh, it’s so a thing!”

​As quickly as she flipped out, Bunny recovers and bounds over to me. I’m greeted with the same bear hug that the other two got. She kisses me too, grabbing my ass in the process. I let out a girlish squeal. Getting goosed by a hot woman wasn’t on my Bingo card for today, especially not right in front of her two … boyfriends? Is that what they are? And if so, what am I?

​“Well, uh … This is awkward.”

​Bunny frowns at me. “Why?”

​I swear you could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows.

​“You’re dating them both, right? And we … I mean, when I first got here, you and I—” I stop myself, mostly because Kendrick is glaring daggers at me. “Hey, man, she started it! Don’t blame me.”

​I can’t quite read the expression that crosses his face. Something between a scowl and an eyeroll and a weird kind of resolution. He sighs and scrubs his bald head.

​“Just don’t get any bright ideas, Bun. This is as far as I’m going with this.”

​I have no clue what’s going on. It’s like Bunny has some secret language with these two, and it might as well be Greek for all I can understand of it.

​Bunny stomps her foot and pouts. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone about it—for now.”

​Thankfully, Doc spares me further embarrassment and confusion.

​“I’m sure everyone is waiting outside to hear how you’re doing, Bunny, so let’s go show them you’re still breathing.”

​Oh, good. Even if these three continue their secret code talk, if I get uncomfortable, I can slip away and go back to my unit. Bunny’s amazing, but I’m an introverted nerd at heart. I belong on a computer in a small room, not out in the open or in a crowd of people.

​Sure enough, Doc was right. The whole of Buntown is there when we exit the clinic unit, crowding in to get a glimpse of Bunny. Within seconds, I’m pushed aside, and I book it back to my private unit before I’m crushed.

​Once I’ve got the unit shut—a bit difficult with only one good hand—I sit on the floor by my setup to check on the programs I’m running. Almost all the data from the MotoBoys’ computer transferred immediately, and the virus my thumb drive uploaded has emailed me the rest. Passwords, secrets, and bank account info all flash in front of me as I scan the screens. A few keystrokes later, all the electronic funds formerly belonging to Chico Angelo now sit in one of my private offshore accounts.

​It’s my hope to use some of those accounts to fund a new location for Buntown and its residents. Bunny didn’t want to take the money, but I managed to convince her that we can use it for the good of her chosen family. Bunny seems to be of a mind that money is the root of all evil. She’d be happy living off stolen goods and scavenged meals for the rest of her life, but not everyone wants to live that way. I bet there are at least a few residents of Buntown who might appreciate some modern amenities.

​I’m surprised at the little storage unit city Bunny’s cobbled together here. I would have expected a condemned or abandoned building—I actually know of a few places in Summer City that might work—but then again, that would require resources that Bunny doesn’t have.

​Well, resources she didn’t have before I got here.

​With some time, I could get a place like that set up for Bunny’s use. Take it off the grid while keeping the creature comforts running, route police patrols away from it, hide suspicious electrical and internet activity … Plans and plots for this are already running through my head. It’s just a small matter of convincing Bunny to vacate this community she’s built and move everything and everyone somewhere more secure—not to mention more comfortable.

​Just a small matter of asking Bunny to uproot herself and all she knows.

Chapter 8

Doc

I feel kind of sorry for Keys. He’s new here, and he clearly has no idea what Bunny was talking about just now. Add in the fact that he disappeared as soon as a crowd got around him, and it’s clear he’s got some social anxiety going on. Even with the small polycule Bunny’s brought him into, he’s going to need some time to adjust.

​It’s going to take Bunny, Kendrick, and me some time to adjust, too, now that Kendrick and I have started connecting on a deeper level. Sure, Bunny acts excited for us, but the scheduling, for lack of a better word, was already a pain to work out. We haven’t quite gotten to the point of busting out a calendar to figure who fucks who on which day of the week, but it’s getting damn close to that. Four people, one pussy, and, for now at least, only one couple willing to pair up while the other two are occupied.

​God help us if she brings another dick into the mix.

​If it wasn’t for Kendrick’s obvious dislike of Keys, I might wonder if they’d eventually hook up. Keys has made no secret about his bisexual tendencies, but even with his newfound feelings for me, Kendrick clearly has no interest in even being in the same room as Keys. I don’t know just yet if that’s jealousy or something else, but it might cause problems in the long run if he doesn’t learn to accept the guy.

​Bunny disappears into Keys’s unit for a couple hours every day, though I don’t always hear her signature Bunny screaming every time. Sometimes, no sounds come out of the unit at all except low, hushed murmurs, indistinguishable voices discussing … something. Bunny’s not the most tech-savvy woman on the planet, so I wonder what they’d have to talk about for so long.

​Kendrick and I still get our turns—Bunny’s got enough sex drive for the three of us, that’s for sure—but things are a bit strained when she’s with Keys. Kendrick gets moody, more grumbly than usual. I try my best to keep him occupied and distracted, but that guy’s Bunny radar is laser-focused and deadly accurate. He always knows where she is and what she’s doing, though how he knows is a mystery to me.

​He approaches me about it one day while I’m restocking the clinic. I set what I’m doing aside to give him my full attention.

​“—And she’s in there with him again!” He scrubs his beard with one hand, and a sound akin to a feral growl comes from his throat. “I just know they’re fucking this time.”

​I heave a sigh and pat the big man on the shoulder. “You don’t know that. It’s not like they put a fucking sock on the door or something. They could just be talking, or he could be showing her something on the computer. Lord knows they’ve been muttering about the MotoBoys ever since she escaped them.”

​“I don’t get why she still trusts him. He knows too much about them.”

​“He stole all their data, Kendrick. That’s how he knows what he knows. The guy’s smart, and he’s got skills you and I don’t. At least give him credit for that.”

​Another grumbling growl. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

​I stand up and stretch my back. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

​“Huh?”

​“You want to see it for yourself, then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll go interrupt them, and provided they’re not, erm, in the middle of anything, we’ll have him show us what he’s found.”

​Kendrick crosses his arms over his chest. “He’ll just make up some shit.”

​“That’s why we’re going now, when he’s with Bunny. He’s not used to us interrupting, so it’ll catch him off guard. That’s what you want, right? To put him on the spot?”

​He eyes me with suspicion, but eventually he gives in.

​“Fine. We’ll go prove he’s a plant, and then I can beat his ass.”

​Not quite the attitude I was hoping he’d bring to this, but it’s better than nothing.

​At least we’re blessed with a quiet storage unit when we get there. Whatever Bunny and Keys are doing, it’s not each other. No way our Bun could keep quiet for long with that.

​I smirk at Kendrick before knocking on the door to the unit. “Bunny? It’s Doc and Kendrick. Could you let us in for a sec? We want to talk to Keys.” Silence. “We know you’re in there, Bun. C’mon.”

​After a couple seconds, the door to the unit scrapes open. Bunny and Keys are both fully dressed, and Keys sits on the floor in front of an impressive computer setup at the far end of the unit. From the looks of things, he’s only got about half his equipment hooked up, but it’s still amazing from my limited point of view. Then again, to a more experienced computer geek, this might be nothing.

​One giant monitor in particular has data scrolling nauseatingly fast in various different directions, the screen split four ways. My eyes can only catch a few words and random numbers through it all, but I guess to Keys it makes sense. The guy must process visual data faster than the rest of us.

​“What do you have here?” I ask, trying to keep an even, conversational tone.

​Keys takes a lollipop out of his mouth, spoons a bite of canned tuna in, and points at the biggest monitor. “The MotoBoys removed the flash drive, but my virus is transmitting again now that they’ve reconnected the internet. Their computer guy has been trying to find where all their money went, but the dude is an idiot. He’s no closer to finding my trail than he was the other day, and he doesn’t seem to realize that there’s still an active virus in his system.”

​“That’s not all that impressive,” Kendrick mutters. “Just means the MotoBoys are stupid.”

​“Actually, we had a couple close calls.” Bunny points to one of the smaller screens. “Keys had to redirect them away from here in their search. I guess they got wind of Buntown and put two and two together. See those traffic cam feeds? He caught a MotoBoy jerk following some of the kids who camp here. Luckily Keys managed to send a cop after the banger, and the kids got away.” She beams at Kendrick, seemingly oblivious to his poorly contained rage.

​I put a hand on Kendrick’s back and grab his shirt, hoping he doesn’t try to choke the life out of Keys on my watch. I may have never finished med school, so I haven’t officially taken the Hippocratic Oath, but I still don’t want Keys to come to harm because I brought a rabid Kendrick to him.

​Keys picks up on what Bunny missed, and he scoots a few inches back. “Uh … So … Yeah. About that. I have an idea …”

​As Keys launches into his plan for a better Buntown, I watch Kendrick’s reaction with no small bit of amazement. His shoulders relax, his fingers uncurl from balled fists, and his eyes widen. His face takes on an expression of rapt, albeit begrudging attention, like he’d never considered taking over an abandoned apartment building for free housing.

​I can’t deny that Keys has thought this out. He explains how we’ll get past police patrols, suspicious electricity spikes, and other logistical nightmares. While he talks, his face lights up, and he types so fast with his one good hand that I can barely keep track of his fingers’ movements. The screens flip between photos and schematics, showing not only the building he speaks of but also virtual mockups of what it could be if Bunny takes it over.

​The whole presentation is quite impressive. Even though the numbers and estimates he’s calculated scroll too fast for me to read most of them, it seems like he’s thought of everything. He’s even figured which apartment would be best suited for a makeshift clinic for me. There’s also an apartment set aside for—

​I choke on my own saliva as I see a flash of a room that could only be Kendrick’s special space … complete with sawhorse and saddle.

​Yep. Thought of everything.

​Before Kendrick can beat Keys senseless for that slide, I grab the big man’s arm and hold him back. He growls low in his throat, but Keys is so busy with his speech that I don’t think he’ll notice. Bunny shoots Kendrick a glare.

​“I made him add that,” she says with a pout. “We have to consider everything.”

​Bunny being practical? I think I’m more shocked than Kendrick.

​After Keys finishes his presentation, he pauses and looks from me to Kendrick, as if judging which of us is more open to his idea. Not surprisingly, he lands on me in the end. “Well?”

​I feel Kendrick’s eyes on me but keep my gaze on Keys. “It’s certainly an interesting idea. There’s got to be a reason the building’s condemned, though. Can’t be terribly safe for all of us, especially if there’s some structural damage. We don’t want the thing collapsing on us. That’d be a lot of people hurt.”

​Rather than act discouraged, Keys perks up again. “No, no, no! I took care of that. Didn’t you see? The three minute, twenty second point of the video shows an easy way to reinforce any load bearing sections that have damage. Here, I’ll play it agai—”

​I put up my hands to stop a replay of the slideshow. “No need. I’m sure somewhere in that dizzying array of images there’s a solution.”

​“It seems you’ve thought it all out,” Kendrick says in a guarded tone. “But how realistic is this? It’s one thing to make up videos and shit, but when it comes to moving the dozens of people who live here and getting them all set in, it’s a massive undertaking.”

​It’s Keys’s turn to pout. “We could do it. If everyone agrees, it shouldn’t take long. Couple of weeks at most, provided I can get inside and set everything up ahead of time.”

​“And just how are you going to reinforce those beams with a broken hand?”

​Kendrick has a point. It’s going to take more than just Keys to get the apartment building to a livable state. Besides, I doubt Keys has ever swung a hammer in his life. He’d probably wind up breaking his good hand in the process.

​Keys ducks his head and looks at the floor. “I kinda thought I’d take care of the wiring and electrical, and you could do the handiwork. Y’know, the physical stuff.”

​This time, it takes both me and Bunny to hold Kendrick back.

​“You expect me to play fucking handyman while you sit on your ass and hook up our cable?”

​“Cable. Phone. Internet. A/C. Heat.” Keys’s voice is so quiet, I can barely hear him over Kendrick’s frustrated huffing. “We could make it livable. Comfortable. Safe. We could make it a home.”

​Bunny stands up on her tiptoes and whispers in Kendrick’s ear. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but within seconds his muscles relax, and he shakes free of us to storm off.

​“What was that about?” I ask.

​“I told him it would make me happy if we could get everyone here to a safe place, a place where we don’t have to worry about heat stroke or rain or freezing temps in the winter.” Bunny watches him stomp down the alleyway between units. “I think he just needs some time to think about it. Mull it over.”

​That takes care of that. If Bunny told him that it would make her happy, Kendrick will move mountains to make sure the plan goes off without a hitch.

Chapter 9

Bunny

Poor Kendrick. He doesn’t understand why I’m taking Keys’s side in this. He probably sees it as an affront to his masculinity, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’d explain things to him, but after he stormed off, he completely disappeared from the commune. Nobody saw where he went, and nobody’s seen hide or hair of him in days.

​Thanks to Keys, I see a future for Buntown that doesn’t involve police raids or worrying about my people if I’m not here. That apartment building can be protected. It can be secured, locked, and kept safe from wandering MotoBoys or other criminals.

​The necessity of the move becomes more obvious when we find Kyle beat to shit just outside Buntown, with a bloody MotoBoys jacket patch pinned to his cheek. Kendrick is still off who knows where, so I do my best to play nurse while Doc patches Kyle up. Unfortunately, I’m not as strong as Kendrick, so it’s harder for Doc to set the bone in Kyle’s leg or move some of the heavier stolen surgical equipment while he works.

​Once Kyle is stable, I notice a familiar tremor in Doc’s hands.

​Uh oh.

​“Doc, baby, is he good to have someone watch him while you rest up? Like, I can get Betty from the east units to keep him company. She likes to chat while she crochets, and I bet it would help keep Kyle lucid until he’s out of danger with that concussion. What do you think?”

​Doc nods, and I send one of the kids to find Betty. She’s an older lady that Kendrick and I took in when her pension got cut. She couldn’t even afford her rent-controlled apartment, so we set up a unit for her to stay in.

​Betty’s kind of the unofficial grandma of Buntown. She’s taken all the kids under her wing, and every resident gets a free crocheted blanket when they arrive. I don’t know where she gets the yarn for it, but I don’t ask. Shoplifting for the sake of others is one of the backbones of our little micro-society, so if she has to steal it, then she has to steal it. Besides, Betty’s secretly a firecracker. I still chuckle when I think about her stabbing the would-be mugger who thought she’d be an easy mark.

​Once Betty’s comfortably settled next to Kyle, with strict instructions to only come get us in case of flatline or something, I take Doc’s hand and damn near drag him to Kendrick’s special unit.

​I don’t give a fuck if Kendrick is around or not. Doc needs what Doc needs, and I’m gonna give it to him.

​The door to the unit slams shut, and I secure it with a lock, spinning the dial so Doc can’t see what numbers it’s set to. Not that I expect him to try to leave, but it’s the principle of it. Can’t have him thinking he’s free to run off if things get rough.

​And boy, are they gonna get rough. I’m dying for some outlet since Kendrick’s still AWOL, so I’m not going easy on Doc this time.

​“Clothes off. Dreads up. Now!”

​Doc does as he’s told, stripping out of his bloody scrubs and tying his dreads into a short, spiky ponytail at the crown of his head. Sweat glistens on his dark, toned skin, and his cock stands at the ready. He’s such a good boy for me.

​Instead of tying him to the saddle—that sawhorse has been pretty creaky lately, so I’d rather not—I grab a folding chair and set it in the center of the storage unit. “Sit.”

​Doc obeys, and I start tying him to the chair with the special silk ropes Kendrick saved up for a while back, using money he squirreled away from his underground fights. These are honest-to-God shibari ropes, legit, from an official adult website. He uses them on me because they’re safer than the rope we could steal from a hardware store. Less chance of itchy, scratchy fibers or excessive chafing. They were a Valentine’s gift from him about two years ago, when I was nineteen. So sweet of him.

​Using the knots and twists Kendrick taught me, I secure Doc to the chair. A row of intricate knots runs down his back, and several lengths of rope hold his arms in place. His legs are spread, bound to the chair legs, and, with some careful positioning, I’ve tied him so that his throbbing cock is easily accessible. I definitely need that part where I can get to it.

​“Comfy, baby?” I tug at one of the ropes to test my work, and Doc moans. His cock twitches, and his trembling increases. He’s on the edge, and it’s my job to work him through this.

​Next comes the gag. I’d rather be able to kiss and devour him while we fuck, but Doc needs the control, the restraint. If I don’t gag him, he won’t get the relief he needs. This isn’t just about me, and I have to remember that.

​Once I’m sure Doc is comfortable and secure, I start my own little strip show for him. While he rushed out of his clothes, I take my time, turning it into an erotic dance. I arch my back, point my toes, do everything I can to enhance each movement for full effect. Piece by piece, I slowly remove my clothes. I unbutton my flannel overshirt one button at a time. Slide one arm out of the sleeve, then the other. Let the warm fabric drop and pool at my feet. Then, I toy with the hem of my undershirt, a pastel pink wifebeater that matches half my hair. Lift it up and over my head, tossing the discarded shirt on Doc’s lap. It lands on his erect dick, and I giggle a bit, which causes my tits to bounce.

​At this point, Doc’s damn near rabid. His breathing is ragged, and thick strings of saliva drip down his chin. He’s drenched in a thick sheen of sweat, and every muscle is taut, straining against the ropes.

​Before I remove my leggings, I straddle Doc’s lap and rub my crotch against his cock. He whimpers and whines. He wants to get on with it, but I want to play a bit.

​While I use Doc’s dick like a humping toy, I lick and nibble at his neck. Tiny nips, little bites that come just short of breaking the skin. Each one causes him to shudder and moan. I grind his dick harder, stroking my clit with him. By now, my crotch is soaked. There’s nothing but a thin, stretchy layer of fabric between us.

​A thin, stretchy layer that rips when two strong, tattooed hands reach around from behind me and tear it.

​I freeze and blink in confusion. I locked the damn door. I know I did …

​“You didn’t screw the vent cover on tight enough, Bun.” Kendrick’s breath tickles my ear. His fingers dip inside me, coating themselves in my wet juices.

​I have no clue how he got in so quietly. Anyone else, especially anyone as big as Kendrick, would’ve made a ruckus climbing in through that vent. Still, I react as a good little subby girl should: I wait for Daddy to say I can move again.

​Doc’s tremors kick up to eleven, which is even hotter now that I’m straddling him. It’s like my own living vibrator. I know I shouldn’t like it—he’s only shaking so much because he’s jonesing, and because I just edged the fuck out of him—but his discomfort is my pleasure.

​Kendrick lets me go for a second. I hear soft sucking behind me, then a moan from Kendrick. His hands return to press on my hips, pushing me even harder against Doc’s cock. “You like that, Bun? Like having him at your mercy? Well, now you’re at my mercy. Both of you.”

​Oh, shit! My Daddy’s back in the absolute best way.

​“Hands behind your back, Bun. Good girl.” He grabs another length of rope and starts tying me up like Doc, only he leaves my legs free. “Now, here’s what you’re gonna do for Daddy: You’re gonna get on your knees and suck Doc’s dick while I ram you from behind. I’m talking a nice, wet, slurpy BJ. You’re gonna get him off, but don’t you dare swallow.”

​I nod my agreement. What Daddy says goes, simple as that.

​“Don’t waste a drop, either. Hold it until I tell you otherwise.”

​Oh … ‘kay. That’s new. Still, I stand by my former statement. If he wants me to hold it all in, then I’ll be a chipmunk-cheeked little girl until he says what he wants me to do with the stuff.

​With my instructions given, I assume the position. Kendrick rids me of the remnants of my leggings, and I gasp as his tongue runs a long line from my clit to my asshole. Wherever he’s been the past few days, it put him in a mood.

​“God, I’ve missed this pretty cunt of yours, Bunny. So wet and tight for me … so perfectly delicious.”

​Doc shudders again as I lick his shaft. Up and down and around I go, but I guess that’s not good enough for Kendrick. He grabs my hair and shoves me down onto Doc’s cock. I gag a bit, unprepared, but soon I recover, sucking and swallowing like a champ.

​Kendrick isn’t gentle about his entry. He slams into me with almost bruising force, grunting and groaning. The balls of his Jacob’s studs slide along my insides, a familiar sensation that sends a thrill coursing through me. I try to push back, but he grips my hips hard and growls.

​“No. Be a good girl and take it.”

​Okay. Kendrick wants control this time, not participation. Got it.

​For a few moments, the storage unit is silent, save for our moans and grunts and slurps and the slap of skin on skin. Then, Kendrick finds his voice again.

​“You like that, don’t you, Doc? Like seeing our girl spit-roasted on our cocks? You like watching her take us from both ends, don’t you?”

​Doc, of course, can only give a muffled whimper in response.

​Kendrick twists his hips in a move that makes my eyes cross, and I scream against Doc’s dick. Doc stiffens in his seat, and my mouth fills with hot, salty cum. Not wanting to disappoint Kendrick, I hold it all in, waiting for his next command.

​Daddy’s not done with me yet, though. He continues to slam into me, to fill me with his pierced cock, rubbing my clit until he finally comes so hard I’m left dripping when he pulls out.

​“You get it all?” he asks. I nod, and he kisses the back of my neck. “Good. I’m gonna untie Doc. We’re moving to the mattress.”

​Is he done already? The mattress in the corner is more for after, for when we’re spent, to cuddle and caress the aches away. Still, that’s what Kendrick wants, so I get off my knees while Kendrick frees Doc from my ropes.

​I’m a little confused when Kendrick stops halfway through untying Doc. He leaves the man’s hands and arms bound, as mine are, and he leads us both over to the mattress by our ropes.

​“I want you to lie down, Bun, on your back. First, though, I want you to coat my dick in Doc’s cum. Get it nice and wet. We’re gonna have some more fun.”

​I spit the cum out onto Kendrick’s cock, then spread it with my tongue. Once I’m sure he’s plenty lubed up, I lie back and spread my legs for them. It’s no easy feat with my arms still bound, but I manage.

​“Good girl, Bunny. Now, Doc, get between those long legs of hers. We’re gonna play a new game tonight.”

​Doc on top of me? We never do it that way. What gives?

​“Ease on in there, Doc. Attaboy. Balls deep. There you go …”

​Doc’s a bit thicker than Kendrick, and longer, so the new stretch with my nerves freshly fucked gives an amazing sensation. I arch into it, and this time Kendrick doesn’t stop me.

​“Good. Get into it. Start her off nice and easy. Once I start on you, I won’t be so nice.”

​Oh! So that’s the game. Kendrick plans on fucking Doc right into me. I giggle and grin and grind my hips against Doc’s massive cock. Doc groans, and I watch his muscles ripple as Kendrick slides in behind him.

​This is amazing! The added push from Kendrick slams Doc into me even harder than I’m used to, and I like it.

​“That’s my slutty little Bunny. Take it all, baby. Every. Last. Inch.” He punctuates his words with rough pumps of his hips. Doc pants and whines against the gag, his drool dripping onto my face, but honestly I don’t care. This whole thing is so unbelievably hot. I didn’t know I was into dude-on-dude action, but fuck … I could get used to this.

​Before long, we’re one big pile of humping, screaming limbs. Kendrick picks up the pace, and Doc shouts into his gag as Kendrick bites down on his shoulder, drawing blood. I scream as I come all over Doc, and Kendrick stills inside him.

​“That’s my girl. I’ve always wanted to watch that big, black cock wreck you.”

​After some awkward untying, the three of us finally form a cuddle party in a dry spot on the mattress. Kendrick rubs muscle cream onto each of us, kissing and caressing as he goes, and he applies some antiseptic to the bite mark on Doc’s shoulder before bandaging him up.

​Just before I drift off to sleep in their arms, Kendrick snuggles close and whispers in my ear.

​“The apartment’s all reinforced. Took me a few days, but it’s done. We can start moving people in whenever you’re ready.”

Chapter 10

Keys

Well, after Kendrick’s grand romantic gesture, I feel like a useless lump.

​I know I shouldn’t be jealous, but I can’t help it. Bunny has been over the moon since he got back, and suddenly it’s like my contribution to Operation Move Buntown has been forgotten. Oh, sure, Bunny still spends time with me, but it’s kinda hard to get in the mood when she’s constantly swooning over how Kendrick sprung his surprise on her.

​I could’ve done without the play-by-play details, too.

​I don’t think Bunny does it on purpose. She’s not trying to hurt me, but it’s like she doesn’t understand why her gushing over Kendrick and his sexcapades after three days of hard labor bothers me. She doesn’t get that people can be jealous or feel left out. Sweet as she is, there’s something missing in her brain, some fundamental lack of empathy. Kendrick’s actions made her happy, so she assumes it’d make me happy to hear all about them.

​Then there’s the usual insecurity around big, physical guys like Kendrick or even Doc. They’ve got useful muscles; mine are more for show. I work out just enough to keep myself from getting pudgy, but Kendrick? That guy’s all buff. I doubt there’s an ounce of fat on him.

​Once he’s revealed to the rest of Buntown that the apartment building’s ready for the next step, everyone’s abuzz with excitement. They act like the whole thing was Kendrick’s idea, though I have to admit that I didn’t exactly tell anyone I had planned it before he blabbed the secret, so it’s mostly just me to blame there. If I’d taken the time to come out of my shell and talk to people, I suppose they might look to me as their savior instead of him.

​Since it’s not a secret anymore, I let it slip that I’ve already gotten the electricity up and running from my end. We’ll still need to do some wiring work on the individual apartment units to get things working, but the building is more or less live. Using our burner phones, I talk Kendrick through the easy stuff, the stuff I can’t do yet because of my broken hand. The more complex things will have to wait until I get to the building myself to work on it, but Doc hasn’t cleared me for that yet. My hand is healing well enough considering the conditions Doc had to work under, and he says there shouldn’t be any permanent damage, but I still have to behave.

​Bunny has her people packing up and getting ready for the migration. Kyle survived his attack, but everyone’s more alert for lurking MotoBoys now. Some of the residents are scared, but most view Bunny as their psycho Messiah. They act like her protection is all they need, which concerns me. Too much faith in any one person, real or not, can lead to trouble. The attack on Kyle should be enough to have everyone on edge, not just a handful of people.

​My virus lets me in on some of the gang’s communications, but not enough. I can’t hack all their phones, because like Bunny they use mainly burners. As such, I don’t know all their plans, and that bothers me. What if they decide to raid the storage unit compound before everyone’s moved?

​For all that I still don’t feel comfortable around him, Kendrick sure comes in handy for appropriating necessary supplies and equipment. I have to send him back to the electronics store a few times when he grabs the wrong shit, but somehow he manages to catch on and snag everything I need to hook the apartment building up. I don’t ask how he got hold of half a dozen servers, ten routers, and enough ethernet cable to wrap around the building twice. I just take the stuff and load it into the van Kendrick stole.

​Bunny sits up front with Kendrick while I huddle in the back, sucking on a lollipop and trying to stay away from the windows. I don’t want anyone to recognize me, and I definitely don’t want some gangbanger to take potshots at the van as we pass by. Best to lie low and wait until we’re safely at the apartment building.

​Doc, who’s also in back with me, is super chill, as usual. I don’t see much that ruffles this man, though from the way Bunny talks you’d think he needs his hand held all the time. I just try to stay clear of him and any potential needles he might wield. He casts a bemused glance my way. “You okay there, Keys? You’re acting like we’re heading for a warzone, not downtown. If you’d like, when we stop, I can try to find you a light sedative or something to take the edge off.”

​Great. He wants to dose me. Probably with a needle. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

​One dark brow rises, and he smirks. “Sure you are.”

​Those green eyes bore into me for ten more minutes, making me more and more uneasy. What’s going on in that head of his?

​Finally, he sits back and looks out the window as the van eases to a stop. “We’re here. You need a chaperone to get inside, or can you manage that on your own?”

​“Ha, ha.”

​We file out and start lugging equipment into the building. Some of the older kids from Buntown stand on the street corners, keeping watch for prying eyes.

​On the outside, the apartments look as condemned as they are, all crumbling brick and peeling paint, but I know from pictures Kendrick took during his remodeling binge that the interiors are much nicer. Since any changes outside the building would draw unnecessary attention, we all agreed to keep the façade as shitty as possible. No one should think to give the building a second glance when walking by, and the windows are all blacked out to prevent light escaping once it’s occupied.

​Bunny, Kendrick, Doc, and I take over one of the top floor apartments, a three-bedroom that probably cost a pretty penny when this place was new. That gives us a couple different bedroom options for Bunny to share with either me or Doc and Kendrick, plus Kendrick’s “special room”—I know more than I care to about that one—and a living area for my equipment.

​My hand’s not back to normal yet, but I’m finding it easier dealing with one usable hand. I get my computers set up in record time, finally a proper setup thanks to Kendrick finding me a discarded desk on a random street corner. I have to relocate several spiders who have taken up residence in the thing, but once it’s bug-free I have to admit it’s kind of nice. Real wood, not just pressed fiberboard, with loads of cubbies and stuff for storage.

​I put my bag of lollipops in the closest cubby, so I always have them at hand. Bunny’s been keeping me in stock with these since I arrived, and it’s surprising how little I crave cigarettes when I have the lollies to suck on.

​I guess my problem was less about nicotine and more about oral fixation.

​Once I’m set up in my own space, I make my way through the apartments, one by one, wiring for internet and power. Most of the work was already done when the building was in use, but I ask a few Buntown regulars to help me with some of the more complex stuff that I can’t do one-handed. They seem eager to help, and one kid, a teenager named Crystal, shyly hands me a disc for a video game.

​“What’s this?” I ask, turning the disc over in my hand. It looks like it’s from a used game store, but the security tag is still on the package.

​Crystal ducks her head and wrings her hands. “It’s a new game. Battlemages Unleashed. I know you won’t be able to play it right off because of your hand, but I thought it might be fun for you to try when you get better.”

​“Thanks.” I give her an awkward one-armed hug, and her blush deepens.

​“I have a healing mage on the Superion server, in case you ever want to play.”

​Before I can respond, she disappears down the hall to her room in the apartment we’ve set up for her and her family. Her mom, a divorcee who’s down on her luck, couldn’t afford the ridiculous rent in Summer City, so Bunny took them in. I’m glad we can give them a proper home now, but I hope Crystal doesn’t start developing a crush on me. Even if Bunny wasn’t the only girl for me, I’m a little too old for Crystal. She needs to find a nice guy her own age.

​I go back to our apartment and set the game aside for the time being, sliding the box into a CD slot on the old desk just as Bunny walks in.

​“Whatcha doin’, Keys?”

​I tap the game box and grin. “Crystal gave it to me. New video game that I haven’t had the chance to try yet.”

​Bunny grins. “Ooh! She likes you. Crystal usually doesn’t come out of her shell for anyone.”

​I shrug. “Yeah, but she really should find a guy her age to hang with. Hey, what about Kyle? Does he have a girlfriend?”

​My girl lights up like a freakin’ Christmas tree. She giggles and jumps up and down, clapping her hands. “Oh, my God, Keys, that’s brilliant! Kyle’s been feeling down since he got his ass kicked, but I bet some time with a cute girl would cheer him up.”

​Before I can get another word out, Bunny shoots off down the hall to the stairwell. I have a feeling that Kyle and Crystal will be an item by the end of the day if Bunny has anything to say about the matter.

​Sure enough, moments later Kendrick appears with Kyle. He’s got an arm around the skinny kid, helping him up the last few stairs. Kyle’s broken leg is splinted, the best Doc could do without proper casting materials, so he has to sort of hop along instead of climbing the steps. From the bright red blush on the kid’s cheeks, I’d guess Bunny has already put her plan into action.

​“I’m okay, Kendrick. I don’t need help from here.”

​Kyle limps over to the door to Crystal’s apartment and gives it a timid knock. Bunny pops her head out of the stairwell and watches Kyle’s every move.

​Poor kid. He’s got an audience for what might be his first time asking a girl out. As discreetly as I can, I amble down the hall, taking Kendrick by the arm and tugging until the big man blocks Bunny’s view.

​“Hey!” she says, pouting and craning her neck. “I can’t see.”

​“Exactly. Let Kyle have this moment without the peanut gallery watching.” I nudge Bunny back into the stairwell and drag Kendrick after me. “C’mon. Let’s help Betty get set up next. She’s got a bunch of boxes to move.”

​It takes a few trips, but we get Betty moved into a first-floor apartment. It’s in the back, a quiet spot, so she won’t be bothered by the rest of Buntown coming through at all hours of the day and night.

​Bit by bit, person by person, mostly in the dead hours of the night, we get the residents of Buntown moved to the apartment. Not everyone has furniture—that’ll come with time and thievery—but they’ve all got a place to call their own. Some of the larger family units have to share rooms, and some of the singles and couples open their apartments to others. It’s a tight squeeze, but everyone fits, and we even have a little bit of room for newcomers.

​All in all, it takes about a week to move everyone out of the storage unit city formerly known as Buntown to Buntown 2.0. The finishing touch is a discreet electronic lock tucked away on a back entrance, out of sight of any passersby but accessible to everyone who needs it.

​The gifts come in droves. Every time we open our apartment door, we’re bombarded with trinkets and stolen goods from the grateful residents.

​I suppose it’s not fair to assume that everything is stolen. I mean, some of the people in Buntown have actual legitimate jobs … they just can’t make ends meet enough to get a place of their own on the up and up. I worry, though, that some are wasting their precious savings just to thank us. Mrs. Hiram, for instance, the widow now living in 4B, has a part-time job serving at a restaurant that feeds her two young kids, so she could have purchased the small, framed picture of her and her family, but she really should have kept those few bucks for herself.

​When I ask her if she has a receipt she could return it with, she brushes off my question. “I want you guys to have it. A token of our thanks.”

​It feels weird being thanked. I’m not used to it. I’m used to my only “thanks” being a quickie in the campus parking lot before class. This whole honest gratitude thing is new to me.

​I’m also unaccustomed to being recognized wherever I go. Everyone in the apartment building stops me and shakes my hand or pats me on the back. It’s unnerving. I’m an introvert for Christ’s sake! Can’t they just stick to quiet admiration from a distance?

​Things calm down after the first couple of weeks pass without incident. No cops raid the place. No MotoBoys drive by shooting at us. Just peace and quiet.

Chapter 11

Kendrick

I swear I’m gonna strangle Keys one of these days. We’ve been here for weeks, and there are still fucking wires all over the damn place, tripping me at every turn. I can’t take five steps without having to dodge a low-hanging cord or step over a series of ethernet cables. Why can’t he keep his shit tidy?

​As usual, when he’s not locked in his room with Bunny, he’s in the living room, sucking on a damn lollipop and scouring the internet for whatever the fuck he does on there. I stomp up to him holding a handful of the useless wires and shove them in his face. “Dude, if you’re going to create trip hazards all over the building, the least you could do is invest in some zip ties to mitigate the mess.”

​Keys looks from me to the wires and back, then he grunts and turns back to his wall of monitors. “Not my wires” is all he says.

​I grab the back of his shirt and haul him out of his seat. “Listen, punk, I don’t care how useful you are to Bunny, if you lie to me, you’re dead. I can find Bun another nerd.”

​“Hey!” He kicks and swings at me, but the guy’s harmless. He only connects with air.

​“No one else is wiring up the place, so just take responsibility for your fucking shit.”

​“I told you, they’re not my wires.” He swipes the bundle out of my hand and turns it over. “Nope. Not mine. Where the fuck did you even get these?”

​I point vaguely at the hallway. “Everywhere. Mostly hanging off the damn supports you had me build. Were those just for your dumb wires? We did plenty fine in the old Buntown without wires hanging left and ri—”

​“Wait …” Keys’s eyes go wide, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. “You say these were strung up on your supports?”

​“Yeah. So?”

​“Where’s Bunny?” Panic seeps into his voice, and he drops the lollipop.

​“I dunno. Helping a new couple move in downstairs, I think. Why?”

​Keys finally wriggles enough to break free of my grip, and he drops to the floor with a thud. “Get her out. Get everybody out.” He scrambles to his feet and gets back in his chair. His fingers fly across the keyboard, and he scours his screens for … for what?

​I cross my arms over my chest, frustrated with the cryptic shit. “Why?”

​Keys spins around in his chair and points at one of his screens. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to be looking at.

​“See that blip in the corner? That’s a wireless signal that doesn’t belong there. And there are more throughout the fucking building.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice this before. I just wrote it off as cell signals from the residents, but … Fuck. You need to evacuate everyone while I try to figure out if blocking those signals will save us or kill us.”

​Realization hits like a ton of fucking bricks. “How did they get in …?”

​“No time to figure that out now. Just get everyone out of the building. I’ll work on this from here.”

​My first instinct is to find Bunny. Doc is with Mama Navid, a local holistic practitioner who works a few blocks away, so I know he’s safe, but Bunny’s still in the building. I turn on my heel and start running, banging on apartment doors and yelling at the top of my lungs.

​“Fire drill! No time to explain. Leave your shit and get out!”

​A few confused faces pop out of their doors, but one look at me seems to be enough to get them moving. People file out behind me, heading for the nearest stairwell. No one asks me any questions; they just do as they’re told. I don’t know if it’s because they’re intimidated by me or if they just trust me that much, and right now I don’t care which it is, so long as everyone gets out.

​Fucking bombs. Someone snuck in and wired the place to blow, and nobody noticed. How the fuck does that happen?

​Then again, we haven’t exactly been super strict with security. Sure, the front door’s always locked and the back has a hidden lock as well, but with everybody moving in, we kinda haven’t been checking IDs or vetting new residents. Bunny wants Buntown to be all-inclusive, so there’s no telling who got in during the move.

​My heart thumps at about a thousand beats a minute as I race from floor to floor, clearing out as many people as I can. I want to get to Bunny, but the unit she’s in right now is on the ground floor. Still have to vacate the upper floors first before I can get her out.

​Finally, I get to the new couple’s apartment. I don’t bother knocking; the door’s ajar, so I storm in shouting Bunny’s name.

​What I see when I burst in makes my blood run cold.

​Blood seeps from a deep cut in Bunny’s gut, and she stands panting over a pair of unconscious bodies. Well, at least I assume they’re unconscious. With Bunny, it’s a fifty-fifty tossup if she killed them for stabbing her or just knocked them out.

​“Fucking MotoBoys recruits,” she mutters as she holds pressure to her wound.

​“C’mon, Bun. If they’re MotoBoys, leave ‘em. We’ve got bigger problems.”

​She holds up a blinking device in her other hand. “Like this?”

​Shit! “Bunny, please tell me you didn’t push any buttons on that thing …”

​Bunny shrugs and turns it over in her hand. “Nah. I’m not that dumb. I’ll let Keys look at it first.” She looks back up at me. “Why were you running around yelling? It got these two all worked up, and they jumped me when they heard you.”

​I know Bunny well enough to know that she’s more upset that they got the drop on her than she is about the actual stab wound.

​“When Keys figured out what was going on, he told me to evac the place.”

​She beams and giggles. “I knew Keys would be on it! Let’s get him this remote thingy and see if he can fix whatever they did.” Bunny starts towards the door, then pauses. “Oh, and we should have him look into any new residents that moved in since we set up here. I suspect these two aren’t the only plants from the MotoBoys that snuck in.”

​I barely have time to process her giving Keys all the credit for a discovery I technically made before she’s out the door and bouncing up the stairs—the exact opposite direction from the exit.

​That woman’s gonna be the death of me.

​Once the last holdout is evacuated, I trot upstairs to drag Bunny away by force if need be.

​Turns out she’s already in the process of dragging that bastard Keys out by force.

​“No! Bunny, I almost got this. Just a few more minutes …”

​She huffs a frustrated sigh and pulls harder on his arm, causing a fresh oozing of blood from her stab wound. “Don’t be stupid, Keys. If you can’t deactivate it now, then let’s just get out while the getting’s good. It’s only stuff. Stuff can be replaced. You can’t.”

​“I’ve almost got all the signals blocked. Just one more—”

​Since Bunny’s determined to rip open her gut even farther, I take over. Grabbing Keys by the waist, I hoist him out of his seat and toss him over my shoulder. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s one more minute, one more second, one more keystroke. Bunny wants you out of here, so I’m getting you out of here.”

​Keys stretches for the keyboard, but I’m too fast for him. “Kendrick! I almost had it! There’s still at least one signal that I haven’t blocked yet.”

​“Don’t care. Getting us out.”

​Bunny skips behind me, humming a tune while she once again applies pressure to the stab wound, which has already oozed a ton of blood. I don’t like her pale color, but every time I look back to make sure she’s keeping up, she’s bouncing along like this is some fun game.

​By the time we get to the old parking lot outside the building, our evac has drawn quite the crowd. Passersby mutter to each other as they point and stare, probably wondering where all the people came from considering the building was supposed to be abandoned. I scour their faces, looking for anyone suspicious. Keys said he had another signal to block, and if it was from any device other than the one Bunny confiscated, we’re fucked.

​Bingo! Near the back of the crowd stands a tall man in a sweatshirt and moto jacket, the hood pulled up over his head and shadowing his face. He leans against a parked motorcycle, but from where I stand, I can’t see if he’s got anything in his hand—like a detonator.

​I dump Keys on the ground and break into a run, not even bothering to check and see if I hurt the guy. I’ve got a bigger fish to deal with.

​Before I can make it across the street to the banger, he lifts his head just enough to flash an evil grin from beneath his hood, and an explosion rips through the air. I stop in my tracks and turn to see the top floor of the apartment collapsing.

​Another minute, and Bunny would have been in there.

​When I look back to the crowd, the MotoBoy is already on his bike. He revs it up and peels down the street. Fuck. Now we might never know who pulled the proverbial trigger. I can’t even get a decent look at his cut to see if there are any identifying patches on it.

​I head back to the parking lot with a sigh, hoping we can salvage something of the building. At least it only looks like the top floor is damaged. Our apartment is gone, sure, and the place Crystal shares with her mom, but it’s a school day. Crystal shouldn’t have been inside, and her mom works double shifts. They both should be okay.

​Bunny is in the middle of doing a head count when I get back. She wears a frown that concerns me, mostly because concern isn’t a usual feature of Bunny’s. “What’s up, Bun?” I ask as I get close.

​“Crystal’s mom called me from work. She saw the explosion on the news—See that damn helicopter up there? Vultures. Anyway, she says Crystal’s school called her job.”

​My heart sinks in my chest. “Why would the school call about an explosion at an abandoned building?”

​Keys shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “That’s the problem. They weren’t calling about the explosion. They were calling to say that Crystal hasn’t shown up for class in days. She’s been skipping school.”

​I flash back to my run through the halls. I know I knocked on almost every door, but did I get Crystal’s?

​Seconds later, my question is answered by a feminine scream ripping through the air.

​Bunny and I shoot off towards the building. I’d scold her for running in with her gut still bleeding, but I know she’s not going to hang back when Crystal might be hurt. I’ll just have to pray that Doc can stitch Bunny up in time to prevent permanent damage.

​Since my legs are longer, I reach the top first. It takes some muscle, but I get the stairwell door open. Wind whips around me as the news helicopter circles the building. I’m probably on camera right now, but I don’t have time to worry about that. I’ve gotta find Crystal in the rubble and get her out before anything else collapses.

​Soft sobs reach my ears over the noise from the helicopter. I toss fallen drywall and support beams left and right, searching for the girl.

​The seconds drag on agonizingly slowly. Why can’t I find her?

​I uncover a man’s jacket first. Scratch that: A teenager’s jacket.

​Kyle’s jacket.

​He’s pinned beneath some rubble. Part of the ceiling caved in on top of him. As I dig him out, I notice the sobs are louder, and I see something beneath his body, something he curled himself around to protect when the blast went off.

​No, not something … someone.

​With a brief, silent apology to Kyle for manhandling his dead body, I lift him off Crystal and toss him to the side. I can’t help Kyle anymore, but I can get Crystal to safety.

​Behind me, Bunny lets out a strangled whimper as I gently pick Crystal up.

​“Kyle …”

​“He’s gone, Bun. Nothing to do for him now. Let me get Crystal clear. Poor girl’s in shock. She’s gonna need Doc.” I glance at Bunny. “You are, too. Don’t argue.”

​Bunny nods, a burner phone to her ear. “I know. I’m calling him now. Keys is having the survivors scramble, head to backup locations until the building is clear.”

​Wait, Bunny’s agreeing with me? Admitting she needs treatment?

​Things are more dire than I realized.

​“Do I need to carry you, too? Because I will if I have to.”

​She shakes her head. “No. You take care of Crystal. Get her to Doc ASAP. I’m gonna bounce with Keys. We’re gonna get as many people to scatter as we can before too many more cops show up. The fewer of us that are around, the better.”

​As we descend the stairs, Bunny grows quiet. I’m worried about her. This is going to shatter her worldview, destroy her carefully constructed illusion that we can continue with our little community like we always have.

​After today, things are going to change forever. Cops will get involved. Questions will be asked. An investigation’s on the horizon, and despite the MotoBoys being the masterminds behind this, I don’t see how Bunny, Doc, Keys, and I can escape scrutiny now. It’s one thing when we’re bashing the skulls of gangbangers, rapists, and thieves. It’s quite another when a teenaged runaway ends up dead.

Chapter 12

Doc

Things could be worse. Instead of triaging a whole building full of people, I just have Bunny, Crystal, and Kendrick to patch up.

​Despite Bunny’s protestations and insistence that I work on Crystal first, the young girl is the least in need of my help. Thanks to Kyle, God rest his soul, she escaped with just a few scratches. The shock is the worst of it, and beyond getting her some blankets and sending someone to go get her mom, there’s not much I can do right now. Mama Navid can take care of Crystal just as well as I can, perhaps more so given her holistic approach.

​Bunny, on the other hand, has lost a lot of blood. She’s already unconscious, though whether that’s all due to blood loss or in part from boredom because I refuse to let her exert herself, I can’t tell. The actual tissue damage is minor, but I have to find a suitable donor soon before I have a dead Bunny on my hands.

​The problem is, Kendrick’s blood type is A, and I’m AB. Bunny’s O-neg. I need another universal donor to cough up a few units for her sake, and since Bunny sent her people into the wind, I have one person left who’s a potential candidate.

​Keys eyes my instrument tray with suspicion. “So … you just need to cut me and get a little bit of blood to see if it’ll mix with Bunny’s? Cool. Then what?”

​“Then if you’re a viable donor, I take some blood from you and give it to her.”

​“With a needle.”

​“Yes. With a needle.”

​Keys groans and rolls his eyes as I nick his finger with a scalpel and squeeze out some blood. Sure enough, his blood doesn’t clot when I mix it with some of Bunny’s on a slide. O-neg for sure.

​“Fuck. Is it at least a little needle?”

​This is going to be a long night. “Sorry, bud. We need to rapid transfuse, so I’m afraid I have to use a larger gauge.”

​“You can’t just, I dunno, cut my hand and let me drip over her wound?”

​It’s my turn to groan, this time with frustration. “This isn’t some vampire movie, Keys. I have to connect you two with a line, vein to vein, to get the blood out of you and into her. I swear, man, the needle’s only in there a few seconds. Then it’s just a cannula.”

​He shudders and reluctantly rolls up his sleeve. “You’re sure you can’t just cut my wrist or something?”

​“Are you telling me you’d be fine with me opening your wrist with a scalpel but not with a tiny needle going in the crook of your arm? That doesn’t make any sense, Keys.”

​“Phobias don’t have to make sense.” He pouts and sticks his arm out at me. “Just do it.”

​If the situation wasn’t so dire, I’d laugh at the way he screws up his face as he shuts his eyes and turns his head. I bite my tongue to keep from snickering at his reaction. With a nod to Kendrick, who’s standing behind Keys in case the guy faints again, I prep the skin and poke him.

​Keys turns whiter than Bunny, and Kendrick catches him before he falls off his stool.

​“I actually can’t believe he let you do that.” Kendrick snorts as he props Keys up. “Dude’s as chicken shit as they come.”

​“I seem to recall you and Bunny regaling me with the tale of having to drag him away from the building full of explosives. That’s not the behavior of a chicken shit. That takes guts.” I finish the transfusion setup and snap off my gloves, grabbing a new pair from the box mounted on the wall at Mama Navid’s clinic. “Now it’s your turn. You got cut up pretty bad digging Crystal out of the rubble, and I need to clean those lacerations and make sure nothing requires stitches.”

​Kendrick is my best-behaved patient of the day. He sits perfectly still while I sanitize and patch up the worst of his wounds. He’s already so scarred up from his days as an underground fighter that I doubt he’ll notice much difference once everything is healed, but I still try my best to keep my stitches tight and even to minimize any further scarring. It’s the least I can do.

​He waits until I’m done and we’ve cleaned up Mama Navid’s clinic before speaking again.

​“I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but you’ve got a really soft touch. Super gentle, even without anesthetic.” He cups my cheek with his big, tattooed hand, and I’m surprised by how gentle his touch is. I’ve treated his opponents before; I know precisely the kind of damage those hands can do.

​I glance at Keys, who’s still out cold. “Well, generally speaking, a gentle touch makes for more cooperative patients.”

​“He technically cooperated. He just whined about it.”

​We share a laugh for a few moments before Kendrick pulls me into an embrace and kisses me softly. Despite the fact that the only other two people in the room are sleeping, I’m caught off-guard by his open advance. Even though Bunny caught on to our burgeoning romance, aside from the time he joined Bun and me in his makeshift dungeon, he hasn’t seemed too eager to make our relationship public. The clinic may be empty of witnesses at the moment, but Mama Navid could walk in at any moment. Even one of her staff.

​The tenderness of Kendrick’s kiss quickly turns into a ravenous hunger. His tongue dives deep, and he cups my dick with his free hand. He strokes me through my pants for a few moments before sliding his hand under my waistband.

​“Turn around, Doc.” His voice is more gruff than usual, strained, like he can barely contain himself.

​“Kendrick … There’s a procedure going—”

​He doesn’t give me a chance to finish. Those fighter’s hands easily spin me around and push me against the counter. Kendrick makes short work of removing my pants and boxers, and he reaches into a nearby drawer and pulls out a tube of petroleum jelly. I hear him unzip his pants, and I quiver in anticipation of what’s next.

​“We’ll be quick,” he says as he lubes me up. “Quiet. We won’t wake them, and by the time anyone else walks in, we’ll be done.”

​Despite his talk of haste, his entry is slow and soft, a vivid contrast to the hardness of his massive, muscled body. Bit by bit, he inches in as his lips deliver tender kisses along my neck and jaw. The slow drag in and out sends wave after wave of pleasure through me. I shudder and clench, holding on to the counter for dear life. Kendrick groans and leans close as he changes pace and begins to rut into me, his chest against my back. He grabs my cock and strokes me, bringing me even closer to the edge.

​“I-I’m going to come …” My words are husky, gritty, my throat dry like I haven’t had a drop of water in days. I pant and huff and gasp for breath, almost wheezing. Kendrick’s pelvic assault is relentless, bruising, and magical all at once.

​Somewhere in my peripheral awareness, I hear a soft moan, too high to be Kendrick’s voice. Fabric rustles, and Bunny chuckles.

​“This is super hot.”

​A quick glance shows me that we have a small audience of one. Keys is still out cold, but Bunny’s conscious and watching us fuck with hungry eyes, fingering herself while Kendrick slams into me.

​“Careful, Bun … You could open up your stitches if you—”

​Kendrick clamps his free hand over my mouth, cutting me off. “Let her play a bit. She’s earned it. You just stand there like a good Doc and take this dick.”

​And I do. I stand there, sweating and groaning as Kendrick pounds me, as he sucks and nibbles on my neck, as he jerks me off to the most amazing climax. My eyes roll back in my head, cum spurts out across the counter, and I know I’ll still owe Mama Navid an apology even after I clean it up.

​My new Dom grunts in time with his final powerful thrusts. He empties into me before slowly pulling out, and I feel his hot cum drip out of my ass and down my legs. I’ve never been so simultaneously turned on and embarrassed.

​Good thing we’re in a clinic, where there are plenty of cleaning supplies around. While I struggle to regain control of myself, Kendrick grabs some towels and washcloths and soap. He cleans me off with a tender touch, making sure he’s gotten everything before he helps me redress. Bunny licks her fingers with a grin while she watches him take care of me.

​“You two are so cute together! I just love how Kendrick is so sweet with you, Doc. Warms my little Bunny heart.”

​“You talk like I’m not sweet with you, Bun,” he grumbles.

​Bunny pouts. “You’re mean sometimes. You don’t let me do fun stuff.”

​Kendrick sighs. “It’d be easier to be sweet if you’d quit bratting out.”

​She hops off the exam table, and I cringe. I hope she didn’t rip her stitches doing that. I look over to make sure she hasn’t pulled out the IV. She seems perkier than she was before the transfusion, but she’s still a little pale.

​“You love it when I play brat, Kendrick. Don’t lie.” She cozies up to him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’s busy trying to clean and dress himself, and she’s in the way. “You’d think it was boring if I behaved.”

​He barks out a short burst of laughter and kisses her. “I wouldn’t know how to act if you behaved, woman. Now sit down until the transfusion is done. You lost too much blood today.”

​Heaving a melodramatic sigh, Bunny finally does as she’s told. “What’d I miss while I was out, anyway?” she asks, kicking her feet like a small child while they hang off the table. “Nobody got caught or arrested, did they? None of our people, I mean. I couldn’t care less if a MotoBoy got arrested.”

​I let out a sigh of my own as I wipe up the last of the cummy mess. “Detained, yeah, but nobody was arrested. They couldn’t connect any of our people—the ones they managed to track down, at least—to the blast. And it seems so far everyone who the cops talked to kept their mouths shut. We’ve had a few trusted friends monitoring the police radios, and they don’t seem to have a clue who or where the four of us are.”

​Bunny chews her lip in thought. I check her vitals before clamping off the tubing and unhooking the transfusion from her arm, applying tight pressure to help it clot off.

​“Is everyone safe? Do we even know where they scattered to? We hadn’t set up new escape locations yet …”

​“Everyone’s fine, Bun. Kyle was the only casualty today.” Kendrick scrubs his scalp with his hands, a nervous habit of his. “We got lucky. Having all our people in one place like that could have been a disaster. Even the old Buntown was risky, but the apartment building?” He shakes his head. “We were sitting ducks.”

​“It was a good idea for a little while,” Bunny protests. “I mean, we were all safe and warm and together. Maybe we should find a new building.”

​It’s my turn to burst Bunny’s idealistic bubble. “Kendrick has a point. We can’t keep everyone together, no matter how much you might want to. It’s too dangerous. We should look into other options, other ways to house the people who need our help. Smaller, more spread-out safe houses, perhaps, or a wider network of resources. We put everything in one basket, and it nearly got a lot of good people killed.” My voice drops to a whisper. “It did get a good kid killed.”

​This sobers even the usually boisterous Bunny. “You think we should split up?” she asks in a small voice.

​“I do. As far and wide as possible. The more of us that are nested together like we were, the bigger of a target we become.”

​“We’re not saying not to stick together when we can. The core group, us here, can find a place, a little hub or base of operations just for us. We can develop a network, run things from a safe location where we’re not so exposed.” Kendrick ruffles Bunny’s hair. “We’ll still make a home for you, Bun, a nice, safe burrow for the three of us. From there, we can network with other safe places for our friends.”

​“The four of us,” Bunny corrects with a scowl. “Don’t leave out Keys. Right, Keys?”

​Silence. Is he still passed out? I turn to check, and a chill runs through me as I take in the empty stool, the discarded IV tubing—still oozing blood—and the overturned stack of gauze on the instrument tray.

​Keys slipped out while we were talking.

​“Shit!” Bunny moves to chase after him, but Kendrick stops her by grabbing her arm. Bunny shakes it to try to get free, then stomps her foot in frustration when his grip proves too tight to break. “How much do you think he heard?”

​“He heard plenty, I’m sure. We didn’t directly blame him, but there was ample inference to send him running.” I mentally count the gauze pads left behind. Keys was at least smart enough to grab a few of them to staunch the bleeding from the yanked IV. Hopefully he applies the right amount of pressure, too, and doesn’t let go too soon.

​“Stay here at Mama Navid’s with Doc,” Kendrick says to Bunny, his tone even more gruff than usual. “I’ll find Keys. He can’t have gotten too far.”

​Before Bunny can protest, Kendrick disappears out the back. Bunny whimpers, clutching my arm.

​“Do you think Kendrick will bring him back safe and sound?”

​I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead to try to comfort her. “He knows you care about Keys. He’ll make sure to bring him back in one piece. I promise.”

​Unfortunately, with both the cops and the MotoBoys on high alert right now, I have no idea if I just lied to her.

Chapter 13

Bunny

Kendrick said I have to stay with Doc.

​He didn’t say how long I have to stay with Doc.

​Mama Navid gives us a room in her clinic, a cot in a closet, really, and poor Doc is so exhausted from the day’s events that he passes out the second his head hits the rolled-up towel we’re using as a pillow.

​I, however, can’t sleep for shit, so I figure I’ve stayed with Doc long enough.

​Time for Bunny to go out and play.

​It bothers me a little that Kendrick has been gone for hours and still hasn’t reported back, but I figure maybe he and Keys went for a drink to hash things out, or whatever it is dudes do when they don’t get along. I have no doubt that eventually they’ll get over their differences, but in the meantime,

I’ve got business of my own to conduct.

​Kendrick says he saw a MotoBoy flip a detonator switch just before the apartment building blew. That means I have at least one MotoBoy to kill. Unfortunately for the MotoBoys, I don’t know precisely which one of them needs to die for that, so I gotta just work my way through their whole organization until I wipe them out. It’s gonna be messy, but what’s life without a little blood and guts?

​Before I can light up the night with righteous rage, I have to get in character. That means scoring a decent outfit, a new baseball bat, and maybe a small arsenal of various weapons. All my Bad Bunny gear got blown to smithereens. I can’t exactly strike fear in the black hearts of Chico Angelo and his gang in a boring tank top and a pair of booty shorts, which is what Mama Navid had to loan me when I had to change out of the bloody clothes I was wearing when we had to evac.

​First things first, then: Visit one of my many hidey holes scattered throughout Summer City where I keep a stash of extras.

​I score with my first stop. Bad Bunny outfit, a pair of my signature pink contacts, a fresh bat, and a few guns and knives, all right where I left them. The key is to hide your shit where no one will think to look, and who the fuck is gonna look in the ceiling tiles of a sketchy gas station on the outskirts of town?

​Changing in the middle of the liquor section of the gas station earns me some pervy looks from customers and cashiers alike, but I don’t care. I even smack my own ass and flash them all a wicked grin before I jet out the front door, snagging the phone from the one dipshit in the bunch who tried to film me on my way past him.

​I happen to know that the security cameras mounted in the store are decoys, empty shells, so who cares if the patrons and attendants got a show? No one will believe them, and now they have no proof.

​With my stolen phone, I try to call Kendrick and Keys. Neither one of them answers, so I dump the phone in one of the windshield washer fluid bins after deleting the short video of me changing. They must not have recognized the number, or maybe they’re both drunk from their male bonding time. I construct an elaborate fantasy where Kendrick is as sweet with Keys as he is with Doc, and I can’t help but smile at the notion. They’re cute together. Well, they would be, if only they could learn to get along.

​My heels click on the pavement as I trot down the side streets and back alleys across Summer City in search of MotoBoys to question and kill. They moved their warehouse lair after I escaped, and I realize I have no clue where they’re holing up now. Could be just about anywhere, I suppose.

​Good thing I’m stubborn! I could go all night and then some if it means exacting my special brand of vengeance on some unsuspecting bangers. I just gotta find enough of them to get a few to spill the beans on where the rest are at. Easy peasy.

​I stumble across my first MotoBoy of the night around two thirty. It’s technically a MotoGirl, but they don’t call their old ladies that. She’s selling herself on 28th Street, screwing some john on the stoop of someone’s home. Tacky, really, not to mention rude. Her old man is probably at home counting drug money, waiting up for her to return. He could be worried about her, and from the stretch marks I see when I get close, she might even have kids.

​“Yo! S’cuse me, sir, but I kinda need to talk to the missus here.”

​The john doesn’t miss a beat. He keeps pounding her while ogling me, and she completely ignores me. A stupid mistake, really, especially considering those stretch marks aren’t enough to make me go easy on her.

​There are gonna be plenty of new orphans in Summer City when I’m done; a couple more won’t make much difference.

​“Hey, sweet cheeks. Come on over here, and I’ll take care of you when I’m done,” the john says. He licks his fingers and wiggles them at me. “Or I can save time and finger fuck you until this bitch here has earned her pay.”

​Eww. Gross. “No dice, dude. I’m not here on that kinda business.” One swing of my bat cracks his skull, and he drops to the ground while Miss Moto screams bloody murder. I sigh and tap the bat on my shoulder while I wait for her to cut the melodrama. Honestly, if she’s gonna run around half-naked while sporting a MotoBoys brand on her thigh, she really needs to toughen up.

​Finally, she shuts up enough for me to start some semblance of a conversation with her. She’s still whimpering and sniveling, but it’s better than the screeching.

​“Okay, cool.” I clear my throat and extend my free hand in greeting. “Hi. I’m Bunny.”

​The woman looks at my hand like it’s a fucking snake or something. “W-what do you want from me?”

​“For now? Information. Depending on how much of that you got, I might change my plans for later.” She pales and pisses herself a little, making me laugh. “Jesus! You gotta woman up, chica. How the hell have you lasted with the Boys if you can’t take a little thinly veiled death threat, anyway?”

​“P-please, don’t hurt me! I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

​“Well, duh. Of course you will. I’ve got all the knives and shit, and all you got is some mace stuffed in your bra. Oh, don’t give me that look. With those tiny titties, I could see it a mile away.” Before she can move, I reach out and dig the mace out of her hiding spot. I debate spraying her with it, but she hasn’t actually done anything personally to piss me off just yet. If she cooperates, I might make her death a quick one.

​Pointing at a purse on the ground at her feet, which I’m guessing is hers, I turn on the Domme tone. “Grab yourself a pencil and some receipt paper or some shit, because you’re about to spill all the beans.”

​Twenty minutes later, I skip away from Donna’s dead body with a list of addresses scribbled in eyeliner on the back of her drugstore receipts. She cooperated well enough to earn a quick, clean slice in the carotid instead of a beating. Some of the other Motos won’t be as lucky, though, if the other intel she gave me is true.

​Child pornography and trafficking. Dogfights. Drug running. Money laundering. The MotoBoys are in thick with a lot of unscrupulous shit, and they’re apparently dumb enough to talk about it ad nauseum when their old ladies are around. Donna’s boyfriend isn’t even very high on the MotoBoys’ totem pole, but she overheard some disturbing shit while she was dating him.

​My mission isn’t just about Kyle’s murder anymore. Now I have to take down every last MotoBoy for the sake of all their victims, past and present.

​That’s a lot of vengeance on an empty stomach. I should really eat something.

​I stop by a familiar diner for some eggs and hashbrowns. The night manager, Mitzi, a short, round woman with wild bleach-blonde hair and enough makeup to supply a beauty store, greets me at the door and shows me to a booth in the back. She knows me from when Kendrick and I rescued her from a mugging a couple years ago, and she offers me a free plate. I don’t want to put her out too much, though, so I hand her a wad of twenties from Donna’s purse as payment. I think most of the cash came from prostitution and drug dealing, but whatever. It’s, like, the thought that counts or something.

​Mitzi, bless her soul, doesn’t ask about the bunny ears or the fishnets. She doesn’t ask about the wound on my stomach, which has started to bleed through the gauze, or the blood on Merrill 2.0, or where I got so much cash from. She just sits across from me and asks about Kendrick and Doc, about how our lives are going since we last chatted, simple stuff.

​To spare her some nightmares, I skip a lot of details. When she asks about the explosion, I admit that I was nearby, but that’s it. I don’t want her to know anything that could make her a target.

​“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I got worried when I saw you in the helicopter footage.”

​Oops. “Oh, yeah, that. I, uh, was in the neighborhood. You know me, can’t walk past a burning building without making sure everyone’s out safe.”

​She pats the back of my hand. “You’re a saint, Bunny. Summer City owes you a debt of gratitude.”

​The praise makes me oddly uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel right to accept her kind words when Kyle’s lying in the morgue. “Aw, don’t say that. There were a couple kids inside when the building blew. Teenagers. The girl survived, but it’s only because her boyfriend sacrificed himself to save her. He’s the real hero.”

​“Oh, honey! I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine running in to save lives only to discover you were too late.”

​Something about her attitude bothers me. I can’t quite put a finger on it, but Mitzi’s usual sincerity seems … forced. Unnatural.

​A waiter interrupts my musings by bringing my plate. He sets it in front of me without the customary “hot plate” warning—Rude! What if I burn myself?—and barks an order at Mitzi to get back to work, his tone gruff and demanding.

​I’m about to pop off at him, but Mitzi just mutters an apology and scurries away.

​Who the fuck is this waiter that he can tell his boss off like that? There’s a hierarchy in food service, and in my experience, the manager outranks the wait staff. Something’s up.

​The vibes I get are fishy enough that I can’t bring myself to eat the food. I can’t avenge Kyle if I’m poisoned, and with the way the waiter is acting, eyeballing me as I pick at the plate, I suspect there’s an unhealthy dose of something vile mixed in with the scrambled eggs. Could be poison, could be a sedative, who knows? Point is, it wouldn’t do me any good to risk biting into it and winding up dead, or worse, kidnapped again.

​So far, I haven’t spotted any MotoBoys tats on the waiter, but that doesn’t mean he’s not with their organization. He could be a new recruit, one who hasn’t proven himself or earned the right to wear the ink yet. I could be his entrance exam. Get rid of the bothersome Bunny, earn your cut.

​Too bad for him that he’s gonna fail.

​My biggest problem is Mitzi. The diner is almost dead at this hour, but if I start shit with the waiter inside, she could get hurt. Since I don’t want that, I have to draw him outside.

​Time for Bunny to play bait.

Chapter 14

Bunny

I start my ploy by feigning exhaustion. A few good yawns, a nice stretch … I even allow my eyes to cross and my lids to droop for added effect.

​Mitzi doesn’t seem to notice, but the wannabe banger sure is paying plenty of attention. He follows my every move, perking up when I fake a sip of the coffee he brought with my food. Yep. Drugged. Good ol’ Bunny instincts haven’t failed me yet.

​When I’m sure I have his undivided attention, I stand up, wavering a bit of my feet, and head for the door. Mitzi offers to call me a cab as I walk by the hostess stand, but I wave her off.

​“I’ll be all right, Mitzi. I don’t have far to go.”

​The waiter takes off his apron and disappears into the back, probably planning on jumping me in the parking lot. Cool.

​Everything goes according to plan until I bump into someone on my way out the door.

​Keys.

​I blink a few times, confused as to why he’s here. Wasn’t Kendrick going to bring him back to Mama Navid’s? What’s he doing way out on this side of town?

​Before I can even ask, he holds up a cell phone and grins. “Hey, Bunny! I pinged your location when Mama Navid said you had gone out for the night. I thought it was weird that you’d go wandering around at this hour, but I thought maybe I could be of some help. Y’know, since I kind of ruined Buntown.”

​He’s rambling. Nervous. Not a good thing when there’s at least one MotoBoy recruit waiting to jump us in the dark.

​“You didn’t ruin Buntown, Keys. You tried to save it. It’s not your fault Chico Angelo is a dick.” I wrap my free arm around his shoulders, keeping a firm grip on Merrill 2.0 with my other hand in case the waiter appears. I have no idea if he’ll see Keys as a potential threat or a nuisance to be eliminated right along with me, so I have to be alert.

​“It kind of is my fault, though. I had the dumb idea of getting everyone in one place, all under the same roof, and look what happened.”

​My ears—my real ears, not the bunny ears—pick up on the sound of footsteps in the darkness. Multiple people, from the sound of things. Guns chamber, and I realize I’ve gotta get Keys to cover before the MotoBoys behind the building open fire.

​The closest spot is a battered old van at the far end of the parking lot. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do in a pinch. I can stash Keys behind it while I confront the Motos, and then when I’ve taken care of them, I can take the time to properly reassure him. His idea wasn’t dumb; it just needs some refinement. Building community is a good thing, as is providing real homes to our people.

​First thing’s first, though. Gotta take care of the immediate threat.

​“Walk with me, Keys.” I guide him over to the van, acutely aware of the footsteps growing closer. As soon as he’s on the other side of the vehicle, I shove him down and draw a gun. “Stay down. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

​“Bunny, what—”

​He doesn’t get to finish his question before the MotoBoys jump out into the light and open fire. I duck behind the van and pop off a few shots in their direction, grinning at the satisfying sound of grunts and screams as my bullets hit their marks.

​“Shit!” Keys curls into a ball with his hands over his head. “What the fuck?”

​“MotoBoys. Guess they followed me.” I wait for the idiots to empty their chambers, and as soon as the gunfire dies down for their reload, I jump out and open up.

​Two bangers are already down for the count when I step around the van, but there are still five up and arming. Not the best of odds, but not the worst I’ve had, either. I don’t spot Chico among them, which means he doesn’t yet consider me threat enough to come take care of me himself.

​He’s about to learn a lesson.

​Since hesitation is tantamount to suicide, I dive right in. Rather than fire at the closest MotoBoys, though, I aim for the dudes in the back, taking long strides towards the group as I open fire. I nail two more of them dead center before any of them are ready for me.

​The first one to finish his reload is just a fraction of a second too late. By the time he raises his arm to shoot, I’m in range with Merrill 2.0, and I knock the gun out of his hand with the satisfying crack of broken bones. A backswing hits him in the temple, and he drops like the sack of shit he is.

​Unfortunately, while I’m playing with Joker Number One, Joker Number Two jumps in with a knife in hand. He gets a solid hit on my shoulder, nailing the bone, but I don’t cry out. Cry out, and they think they’ve got the upper hand.

​Cry out, and they think they’ve won.

​Joker Number Two probably thought he’d make me drop my gun with that stab, but all he accomplished was to bring himself within point blank range. I take out his balls with a couple bullets, ensuring he won’t be fathering any little bangers in the future.

​The last MotoBoy has the decency to shit himself loudly before breaking into a run. Too bad for him I’m not in a forgiving mood. I take him out with one shot to the cranium, ending the fight.

​Keys creeps out from behind the van while Joker Number Two writhes and moans on the ground at my feet. I yank the knife out of my shoulder and hold it to the dude’s throat.

​“What gives? Did Chico really send all you guys out after little ol’ me?”

​It seems that questioning the guy is pointless. He’s too busy crying over his lost testicles. Like, ugly crying. Snot everywhere.

​I end his tears with a sigh and a slice, lamenting that I won’t get any info out of him.

​“Bunny, are you all right?” Keys stares wide-eyed at my shoulder, which is seeping a bit of blood, but not too much considering. Missed anything vital; it’s really just a scratch.

​“I’m okay, baby. It’s gonna take more than a little flesh wound to take me down.”

​Keys licks his lips and runs a thumb through the thin trickle of blood. His pupils are dilated, his breathing shallow, and at first I think he’s gonna pass out like with the needles. To my surprise, though, he pops his thumb in his mouth. His eyes roll back in his head, and I take note of the raging boner he’s sporting.

​Wait, how can he be so terrified of needles if blood is such a turn-on for him?

​“You okay, Keys?”

​He opens his eyes and flashes a wicked sexy grin. “I’m not a fighter like you and Kendrick, but I gotta admit, knife play has always been a fantasy of mine. Seeing you take out all these guys out by yourself, and the blood … It’s kinda hot.”

​“So, needles bad, but knives good?”

​He answers by grabbing my shoulders and licking the knife wound, sending a shockwave of pleasure through me.

​“Knives very good.”

​I grab Keys’s hand and drag him to the alley the MotoBoys were hiding in. Now empty, it’s the perfect place to blow off some steam before we go back to Doc and Kendrick at Mama Navid’s.

​We half-assed strip in a frenzy, with Keys letting his pants drop around his ankles as I pull my thong to the side. His dick throbs; it’s so rock-hard that it’s resting against his taut stomach. I wrap my legs around his waist and lean my back against the wall of the diner.

​Keys wastes no time. He’s in and pounding within seconds, filling me to the brim. He grunts and moans and sucks at my knife wound. I dig my fingers into his silky silver-blonde locks and hold him to me, encouraging more. More sucking, more fucking, more of everything. The rough brick of the diner wall scrapes my back, but I don’t care. I could do this—do him—all night.

​Unfortunately, our dalliance is cut short by the peal of sirens in the distance. Mitzi probably called the cops when shots were fired, which means we have mere minutes to finish up. I whine and clench harder around Keys, hoping to milk him faster.

​“Oh, fuck, Bunny! You’re so Goddamn tight …”

​“Hurry, Keys,” I pant in his ear. “Come inside me before the cops get here.”

​He chuckles as he picks up speed. “If word gets out on the dark web that master hacker Keys Malone got caught with his dick in a bunny, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

​I’d laugh at his joke, but I’m too busy getting my insides rearranged. I scream and squeal and come all over as he gives me a few final, powerful thrusts. He pulls out and sets me down. Cum drips down my thighs, and we rearrange our clothes as fast as we can. I take Keys’s hand, and we run down the alley in the opposite direction of the sirens. If we hurry, we can disappear before the cops have a chance to figure out I’m the culprit behind the bodies in the parking lot.

​“Where to now, Bun?” Keys asks.

​“Back to Mama Navid’s, to Doc and Kendrick. We need to regroup and come up with a plan for these damn MotoBoys.”

​Keys frowns. “Kendrick’s not there. I went back after cooling off, and Doc said he went out to find me. I thought maybe he’d be wherever you were, so that’s why I came looking for you.”

​My blood runs cold. “Why didn’t you ping him like you pinged me?”

​“His signal’s dead. Must’ve run out of charge.”

​“That doesn’t make any sense. Kendrick always charges his phone. He’s obsessive about making sure it’s got plenty of juice.”

​Keys shrugs. “Maybe he forgot, or maybe the burner had a bad battery.” When I scowl at his suggestion, he pouts. “It can happen! There are a million reasons a phone battery can die. Hell, he could’ve just turned it off.”

​“Kendrick definitely wouldn’t turn it off. Something is wrong.”

​“You think something happened to him?”

​My fingers clench around the neck of Merrill 2.0. “I know something did.”

​“What are we gonna do?”

​I drag Keys around a corner, heading for Mama Navid’s. “We aren’t doing anything. You’re going to stick with Doc, and I’m going hunting.”

Chapter 15

Kendrick

I feel like such a fucking idiot.

​Bunny was so concerned over Keys disappearing that I just ran off half-cocked after him, and I wasn’t watching my back.

​Seven MotoBoys jumped me at once. I was unarmed and unprepared, so I could only take out two of them before the other five overpowered me. My head still throbs from where one of them nailed me in the skull with a brick. When I get out of this, I’ll need Doc to check me out. My vision keeps splitting into double, then merging back into one, then two again.

​That can’t be good. I’ve got a notoriously hard head, but I’m still only human.

​The room they’ve got me in is small and rank. It reeks of vomit, dried blood, and excrement. Probably a torture room of some sort. A low-hanging light bulb keeps tapping my head as it swings on a thin chain, making the disorientation from the fluctuating vision even worse.

​The dimensions aren’t much bigger than a standard closet, which doesn’t leave me much space to move around in. Not even enough room for a chair to sit in, so I’m stuck standing until someone comes in. The chains they wrapped me in scrape on the walls of the closet every time I turn or shift my weight. It’s cramped and irritating. I hate being the one tied up. Bunny tried that once—once—and we learned it’s not a good thing for anyone involved.

​If I could maneuver enough to get loose, these MotoBoys would learn that, too.

​Somewhere outside the closet-room, loud, obnoxious music blasts. Whoever’s out there, they have terrible taste. All “capping bitches” this and “straight up gangsta” that. So annoying.

​None of this does anything to improve my mood. I’m sour and salty at being caught, and between the cramping and the horrendous music, I’m ready to tear into the next person who opens up the closet door.

​The next person turns out to be a banger kid with greasy, stringy hair and the barest whisper of a moustache starting on his upper lip. He doesn’t even have time to fully open the door before I bodycheck him out into the hallway. The kid goes down, and I burst out of the disgusting closet with my eyes wide open, searching for the nearest exit.

​Unfortunately for me, the double vision kicks in again at that very moment, and instead of one exit in the crack house, I see two. The images of the door dance around each other, confusing me. Before I can figure out whether I should go left or right, three dudes with bats and brass knuckles get up off the couch in the corner and head right for me. Well, it could be two dudes, or maybe it’s six? I can’t tell quite yet how many I’m really looking at.

​The one to the far left appears to be a solid image, and I block his swing of the bat with my shoulder just before it further cracks my skull. The muscle of my shoulder takes the meat of his hit, and I roar and dive for him. Even with my arms bound, I make a decent battering ram, and not one of these guys is so much as half my size.

​Middle Guy gets me in the nose with a solid punch, and I hear the bone crack more than feel it. When the rage dies down, I’ll be one sore Kendrick, but for now I’m practically immune. I shift my weight to my back leg and land a kick to his diaphragm. He wheezes and drops his brass knuckles, and the third guy pauses to help him.

​The third guy made a deadly mistake. Helping his buddy shouldn’t be a priority while I’m still a threat. The back of my heel catches his chin, and more cracking signals a broken jaw. If he survives my next few moves, he’ll be eating through a straw for a while.

​Someone jumps me from behind, and I prepare to shake them off but freeze when I see the fishnet-clad legs wrap around my waist.

​“Kendrick!” Bunny squeals and kisses my neck. “I found you!”

​“Bun? How did you find me?”

​She shrugs. “Took a bit. I had to drop off Keys first, and there was some messy business outside of Mitzi’s diner before that.”

​“How messy?”

​“Gunshots and cops. It’s fine now. I guess. For me, anyway.”

​How long was I locked in that closet for all this to happen? “Cops?”

​Bunny hops down and crouches, peering at the groaning MotoBoys writhing on the floor. “You left ‘em alive, y’know.”

​“For fuck’s sake, Bunny, I’m still chained here. Give me some credit for doing this much when I can’t move my arms.” I try to stretch or flex, get some movement going, but they’ve got me wrapped up too tight. “You could help with that. Pick the fucking lock or something.”

​She looks up at me with a funny twinkle in her eye. “I dunno … I kinda like you like this.”

​“Pissed off?”

​“At my mercy.”

​Fuck. When Bunny came for me, she came in Brat Mode. I gotta get loose before she starts thinking things can work like this between us.

​“You gonna let your girl talk to you like that, pendejo?”

​It’s the first idiot, the one who took a swing at me with a bat. I glare down at him and stomp on his nuts to shut him up. “My girl’s gonna talk however she wants to talk. A real man isn’t afraid of a little backtalk.” I’m not afraid, but I’m not stupid, either. Bunny’s going to get a lesson in how to act around conscious thugs later, when we get back to Mama Navid’s. If I recall, Mama Navid has a storeroom we can borrow, and I’m sure I can jury rig some appropriate restraints for that lesson from the supplies in there.

​“Ooh, Daddy’s coming out to play!” Bunny squeals and pops up from the floor. “Want me to take care of these guys for you, Daddy?” She puts her hands behind her back, and with the doe eyes she’s giving me, the messy blue-and-pink pigtail braids, and the way she juts her chest out as she waits for my answer, I’m dangerously close to sporting a boner in front of the enemy.

​“Quick and clean, Bun. Then you and I can play.”

​Bunny produces a switchblade seemingly out of thin air and dispatches the goons in seconds. The lock on the chains takes longer, but once I’m free we beat it out of there before anyone can come looking for their underlings.

​While we head to Mama Navid’s, Bunny explains what she learned from the late Donna about the MotoBoys. I shudder as she regales me with all the gory details. These guys really are pieces of work, and I can’t find any redeeming qualities in any of them … but are they really so bad that Bunny needs to take all of them down? That could get messy quick, and it’s dangerous in more ways than one. The cops already got called on her fight outside the diner. Kill enough bikers, and not even Bunny’s obvious sociopathy will save her from the chair.

​It’s hard to believe that after we siphoned and drained all their money, the MotoBoys haven’t slowed in their criminal activities. If they can rebuild this fast after a hit like that, they’ve gotta have resources we aren’t aware of, stuff that Keys’s hacking missed. If we’re going to undergo a full burn of their organization, we’ll have to study them closer. Plan this operation. We can’t just go in Bunny-style with guns blazing and pray that fucking up enough of their shit does the trick.

​Once we get about halfway back to the clinic, the adrenaline that was holding me together suddenly plummets. Bunny’s in the middle of asking me why the MotoBoys picked me up when it hits, and my answer comes out in the form of incoherent mumbling.

​My face hurts. A lot. My broken nose has finally started to throb, and to my dismay the throbbing is not in tune with the equally annoying throb of my cracked skull. The two injuries create a cacophony of dueling drumbeats as my pulse pounds in my ears, and a high-pitched whine buzzes along with it. I’m not entirely certain the sound isn’t a hallucination borne from the blow to the head.

​I try to tell Bunny to stop a second and give me a chance to fucking breathe, but before I can get the words out, my lunch from yesterday resurfaces with a vengeance.

​“Kendrick? Shit!” Bunny screeches to a halt and doubles back to me.

​It’s a solid five minutes before I can stand up straight again. By then, my stomach has got to be empty. Nothing but bile is coming up, anyway.

​“D-doc …” The only word I can get out, both plea and prayer.

​Bunny puts my arm over her shoulder in an attempt to help me walk straight, but I’m too big for that. We end up weaving back and forth through the alleys and back streets of Summer City, bumping into trash cans and Dumpsters and creating a general racket. If any of the MotoBoys came across us now, we’d be toast.

​We make it to Mama Navid’s clinic, but only just. I’m a blubbering, babbling mess. Even in my worst days of underground fighting, I never took a hit this bad. I always figured my thick skull was my salvation, but now? Now I’m feeling more like I’m made of eggshells, and Humpty Dumpty is about to fall.

​“Humpty Dumpty?” Doc asks with a frown as he checks me over. “What do you mean, Kendrick?”

​Did I say that out loud? Fuck. “The egg guy. With the horses.”

​“Kendrick, I don’t know what you mean.”

​Shit. I’m making even less sense when I try to clarify myself.

​“Bunny, Keys, hold him still. I have to set his nose.”

​Oh, fuck! That part always hurts. I close my eyes and brace myself, but even with Bun and Keys on either side of me, I almost pass out and fall over from the shockwave of pain. Keys takes the brunt of my weight and helps me lie back on the cot.

​Wait, Keys? Isn’t he missing? “When did you get here?”

​“I was just gone, like, an hour. I found Bunny, then she came looking for you.”

​“Bunny … My baby girl …” I roll over on my side and wrap my arms around Bunny, pulling her close and smashing my broken face in her soft boobs. “Mine.”

​“Is that the concussion talking?” Keys asks Doc.

​Doc chuckles, and a syringe drops in the sharps bin. “That was morphine talking. I slipped him some while you two were distracting him.”

​“But Kendrick isn’t afraid of needles.” Bunny’s chest vibrates as she speaks. It feels nice.

​“No, but I’d rather not have him even more pissed off than he was. With that concussion, he might take a swing at the wrong person in his confusion. Better to stick him when he’s not looking.” Doc pats my hip. “Rest up, big guy. That’s the best thing for your head right now.”

Chapter 16

Keys

Man, I’m batting a thousand on fuckups since I met Bunny. I had the dumb idea to get all Bunny’s people in one central, vulnerable location, missed the explosive wires, missed something when I cleaned out the MotoBoys, something vital that allowed them to rebuild in record time, got Kendrick beat to high hell because I stormed off like a bratty child… What next?

​I need to redeem myself. Find some way to prove to Bunny that I can still be useful to her, that I can still help her cause.

​The easy answer is to take out the MotoBoys for good, but I’m not like Bunny and Kendrick. I can’t fight, can’t shoot. I’m useless in that department. Anything I do has to be from behind a computer screen, and all of mine got blown to smithereens at the apartment building.

​I have nothing.

​Bunny and Kendrick spend the next few days huddled together in a back room of the clinic, making plans and discussing who-knows-what. Every time I try to get close to offer advice or join the conversation, Kendrick shoots me a glare that could stop a rampaging bull elephant in its tracks and make even the nastiest of thugs think twice before interrupting them.

​At least Doc is willing to talk to me. We develop an easy companionship, chatting while I help clean up the clinic at the end of each day. I steer clear of the needles, but the rest of the mess isn’t too bad to deal with. Since most of Doc and Mama Navid’s patients are there for holistic healing, there’s not much of the blood and guts kind of stuff you might expect in a normal clinic. I mostly end up wiping down counters and tossing bandage wrappers.

​Since we’re still Public Enemy Number One to the MotoBoys, Kendrick insists that we don’t leave the clinic until he’s got a plan. Luckily, it seems they haven’t caught on to our new location. There are a few skirmishes on the street with some of the displaced former residents of Buntown, but nothing that Doc can’t fix—yet.

​With Bunny and Kendrick all buddy-buddy lately and Doc part of their clique, I feel more and more left out every day. Faking my way through a free college degree wasn't the greatest life, but since I left the campus to camp out with Bunny, I've been ... deprived. I was accustomed to a certain amount of sexual attention, whether in the form of anonymous one-night stands or as “favors” for fixing grades. My balls are bluer than the fucking ocean right now.

​I slip into a supply closet for a little “me time,” hoping to ease the ache. There are convenient tubes of lotion back here, along with plenty of towels for after. I'm sure Mama Navid won't miss one little towel …

​Using my phenomenal memory to visualize a very naked Bunny on her knees in front of me, I squirt some lotion on my palm and get started. My fist makes wet slapping sounds against my balls as I beat faster and faster. I lean against a shelving unit and close my eyes to help me concentrate on the fantasy of Bunny sucking me off.

​I'm not prepared for the doorknob to turn.

​I'm not prepared for the door to creak open.

​I sure as hell am not prepared to open my eyes and meet Kendrick’s irate gaze as he catches me mid-masturbatory frenzy.

​“Uh …”

​“What the ever-loving fuck are you doing, Keys?”

​I drop my cock and bend over to pick up my pants, which have fallen around my ankles. In the process, my head hits another shelf with a loud bang. Stars swim in my vision, and I start to fall over.

​Kendrick catches me. Bare ass and all.

​“What the fuck?” he bellows.

​“Ow …”

​I groan and try to regain my balance as something warm and wet slides down my forehead. Shit, did I blow a load in my own face?

​“Fuck.” He pulls my arm over his shoulder and manhandles me into an upright position. “Doc! Get your ass in here! The nerd beaned himself.”

​Seconds later, Doc rushes in with an ice pack in hand.

​Followed by Bunny.

​Followed by Mama Navid. And her son.

​Someone kill me now and end this embarrassment.

​Bunny shoots me a confused glance as Doc presses some gauze to my forehead before handing me the ice pack and checking my pupils. “You and Kendrick? I wasn’t expecting that.” She chews her lip as if deep in thought.

​Kendrick is quick to correct her. “No, hell no, and no fucking way. I just found him like this.”

​Mama Navid’s son snickers, and my cheeks heat up.

​“Could someone help me with my pants, please?”

​Kendrick lets go of me so fast, I almost fall over again. “I’m not going anywhere near that!”

​Doc rolls his eyes. “Bunny, would you mind lending Keys a hand? I’ve got to keep pressure on this cut for a few minutes. Mama Navid, if you have some saline for irrigation, I could use some of that, and possibly a suture kit.”

​My blood runs cold. “A what kit?”

​“It’s a deep cut, Keys, and head wounds bleed like hell. I don’t think glue or steri-strips will be enough.”

​Terror wars with exhaustion, and to my surprise exhaustion wins this round.

​“Fine. Just … Can you do a numbing shot first, so I don’t feel the rest of it? I think I can handle it if I close my eyes and can’t feel the needle doing its thing.”

​By this time, Bunny has wrestled my pants back into position. “I’m proud of you, Keys,” she chirps as she zips my fly.

​“What good am I around here without my pretty face?” I say, my words dripping with bitterness.

​Bunny pouts. “I’d still love you even with a scar, Keys. Besides, I have a surprise for you.”

​Kendrick grumbles. “I thought we weren’t going to tell him until everything was set up.”

​“Until what’s set up?” I ask, wincing as Doc changes gauze pads and presses harder on my cut.

​“Uh-uh!” Bunny wags a finger at me. “Not until you’re all stitched up. Then we’ll tell you. I’m super excited for it.”

​I’m a little leery of Bunny’s surprise. She tends to lean more to the side of gifts that involve violence or threats of violence against one’s enemies. I heard she once gave Doc his former dealer’s head on a silver platter—literally. To this day, no one knows what happened to the rest of the body.

​We file out of the storage closet, and I follow Doc to the main exam room of the clinic for my torture—er, procedure. I sit as still as I can, eyes squeezed shut so I don’t get a glimpse of any needles. A few numbing shots and fifteen stitches later, he tapes a bandage on and calls it good. No concussion, I guess, so that’s a plus, and I just need to kinda ice it off and on for a little while to mitigate the horrendous headache I’ve developed.

​I’m actually kind of proud of myself for not freaking out or fainting.

​To my surprise, Bunny’s surprise requires leaving the clinic. Not sure how I feel about that, given what happened to Kendrick and Bunny the last time we all ventured out, but it makes Bunny happy for me to go, so I go.

​The four of us take a rusty old jalopy across town to an abandoned warehouse, and once we get there, I recognize the address. It’s one of the places I pitched for the new Buntown, but it got rejected as being too small for Bunny’s community of folks.

​What are we doing here?

​“Bunny, I don’t get it. I thought you guys decided this place was too small.”

​She giggles and takes my hand, practically dragging me inside the cordoned-off parking garage. “For a whole town of people, sure. But not for us.”

​“For us?”

​Kendrick pinches the bridge of his bandaged nose. “Christ, I thought you were the smart one. Bunny’s saying this is our new home. We’re not putting all our people in one place again—that had disastrous results—but we can spread them out across the city, find them all homes in the places you picked out. This one will be ours, kind of our base of operations.” He points at a stairwell in the back of the garage. “Come on. There’s more to this fucking present.”

​We trail behind Kendrick, who uses a flashlight to illuminate the way since the windows are all boarded over, and he leads us through a maze of hallways and doors until he finally stops and clears his throat.

​“Ahem! Like I said back at Mama Navid’s, it’s not set up, so excuse the mess. I’m sure you’ll make something of it once we get moved in.” His cheeks have a pink tint, like he’s on the verge of actually blushing. I’m not sure what to make of that.

​When Kendrick opens the door, my jaw drops, the lollipop falls out of my mouth, and I gasp at the sight.

​I have no idea where they got them all, but there are at least a dozen computer towers and even more monitors piled in the center of the room, with a beaten-up desk in the corner. They’ve even found—or stolen—some small servers and a handful of external hard drives. Everything I need to rebuild what I had at the college, and more, is there.

​“You … You guys got all this for me?”

​Bunny squeals with delight and attacks me with a bear hug. “Yep! Kendrick’s been sneaking out at night to, er, procure supplies, and we’ve been stashing the stuff you could use in here. This’ll be your office, I guess. Your little man cave, a place you can go do computer-guy stuff without us getting in the way.” She kisses my cheek. “There are just enough rooms in the dorm section of this place for us each to have our own bedroom, plus a couple extras. The cafeteria has enough storage for what we need, and Doc even found a suite of rooms that he can use for a new clinic.”

​I already knew the details of the building’s layout—I scoped it out, after all—but it pleases Bunny to regale me with them, so I listen quietly. It floors me that they went to all the effort of finding computers for me to use. I’ll have to wipe whatever’s on them and probably upgrade the software in most, and there’s no guarantee they’ll even work, but it’s touching all the same.

​“One more thing,” Bunny says, and she reaches into a cargo pocket and pulls out a slim plastic case. “It survived the explosion, so I saved it for you.”

​I take it from her and read the cover.

​It’s the copy of Battlemages Unleashed that Crystal gave me.

​Tears of joy and appreciation spring to my eyes, and I wipe them with the back of my hand. This amazing woman saved a video game for me from the rubble that was my failed attempt at a home. She arranged for us to live here together, arranged for a place here just for me, and she kept it all secret as a surprise for me, a gift.

​I don’t deserve Bunny.

Chapter 17

Bunny

Once Keys uses Mama Navid’s computer to get power and internet working in the Burrow—my name for it—we officially move the four of us in. Everyone gets their own private room, plus we have a room for Kendrick’s play time with me and Doc, and a couple extra for anyone needing a room for the night.

​Our first night in the Burrow, we all retire to our respective rooms, too tired from setting up for anything else. I wake up in the middle of the night feeling frisky, so I go to Keys’s room in search of some fun. I’ve been neglectful lately, so caught up in the surprise and then the preparations that I haven’t given Keys the attention he deserves. He’s not in his room, though, which puzzles me. It’s three in the morning. Where could he be at this hour?

​I finally find him in the computer room, lying under the desk and playing with wires and stuff.

​“Whatcha doin’?” I ask as I walk in.

​Keys sits up so fast that he bonks his head on the underside of the desk and bites down on his lolli with a loud crunch. I giggle and help him to his feet. “You gotta be more careful. You’ll bust open your stitches.”

​Rubbing his head, he gives me a cute, sheepish grin. “At least the wooden desk is a bit more forgiving than the metal shelving unit was. No new stitches needed.”

​“That’s good. I’d hate to delay any treatment.”

​“Huh?”

​I grab his arm and start dragging him down the hall. “We’re gonna play.”

​“Play?” He ducks under a low-hanging pipe as we make our way to my room. I have to remember to have Kendrick fix that. I don’t want any of my guys knocking themselves out on that thing.

​When we get to my room, I slam the door shut behind us, blocking the way in case Keys gets it in his head to escape. He’s mine tonight.

​“You and I are going to christen this building, Keys.”

​His eyes widen, and he strips his shirt. “I’m good for that,” he says, and I can see from the bulge he’s already sporting that he means it.

​Before he can finish getting undressed, I pull him close for a steamy kiss, tossing the cracked lolli in the corner. I’ll have to find a better solution for discarding those, but for now it’ll do. In a bold move, Keys pushes me against the door, pressing his hips into mine. He moans and shoves his tongue deeper, and I toy with his nipple rings while we make out. His fingers slide under my panties and brush against my clit, making me shudder with delight.

​When his fingers slip inside, I’m already so wet that they glide right in. I climb Keys like a fucking tree, wrapping my legs around his waist and grinding against his probing hand.

​Keys’s other hand grabs my boob and gives it a soft, sensual squeeze. For a guy who doesn’t have Kendrick’s muscles, he manages to hold me up just fine, even lifting me a bit to bring my breast level with his mouth. He latches on and sucks, rolling my nipple with his tongue and gently nibbling. It’s like all his time sucking on lollies since he joined up with us was just practice for this exact moment.

​“Keys …” I thread my fingers in his shoulder-length hair, holding him to my chest. “I have a bed, you know.”

​He lets go of my tit just long enough to respond.

​“The door’s louder, though, and I want to make some noise.”

​Ooh! He must be in a good mood. Usually, he’s not up for playing Alpha Daddy. Too afraid of upsetting Kendrick. I kinda like this side of him.

​Unlike my regular Alpha Daddy, Keys can’t quite rip my leggings off in one yank. After fumbling a few times, I climb down and pull them off before he pulls a muscle straining himself.

​I barely have the first leg free before he lifts me off the ground again and slams me into the door. He jockeys his massive dick into position and eases it in as my pussy pulses and clenches around him. Between my screams and the creaks and rattles of the door, I know Kendrick and Doc have to be hearing us. If Keys wants to assert his claim on me, I think this will do the trick. There’s gonna be a virtual pissing contest between him and Kendrick for a while after this.

​If that means I get laid extra, all the better. In fact, I might play them against each other for a bit to get my lady bits a workout.

​A little competition will do them both good.

​With this angle, Keys hits all the right spots, and bolts of pleasure shoot through me with each thrust. I don’t even mind the little pangs of pain from being slammed into the door. If anything, they highlight the pleasure in a delightful contrast of sensations.

​Keys finishes with a shout, burying himself deep inside and emptying his balls of every last drop. Cum drips down my legs as he sets me back on my feet.

​It’s a good thing we’ve got shower facilities here.

​Our shower time is tender and sweet, with Keys taking the time to lather up a loofah and scrub me from head to toe, kissing every spot as it’s rinsed. He spends a little extra time on his knees between my legs, worshipping me and bringing me to yet another climax with his sensual mouth and skilled hands. His tongue goes so deep that I wonder if he’s tasting himself in there.

​We run naked back to my room, giggling down the hall and playing a fun little game of Grab-Ass as we go. Keys is one goose up on me when we get back, so, per the rules of the game that I made up on the spot, I drop to my knees and give him a quick BJ as a prize.

​Things are fun and all until we finish getting dressed, when a sudden lull in the festivities hits. I don’t quite know what to do with Keys when we’re not banging, and I feel bad for that.

​“So, what were you doing when I interrupted you?” I ask, genuinely curious.

​He runs a hand through that silky, silvery hair of his and gives me a sheepish grin. “Setting up a few of the computers. I’ve got most of them operational, but I figured I’d get some basic programs running. Automations, things to keep the Burrow functioning even when I’m, er, occupied.”

​“When you’re fucking me.”

​“Yeah, that. I can show you, if you’d like.”

​Aw, how cute! He wants to show me his interests. I’m honored. Some guys just do their own thing and don’t bother to get their girl involved. It’s sweet that Keys is offering. Kind of like when Kendrick started training me to fight and shoot, or when Doc tries to teach me medical stuff. I’m not the best student in that department, but I try. My knowledge of anatomy is killer—literally—but when it comes to fixing that anatomy, I fail. I guess I’m just better at breaking bodies than repairing them.

​Instead of sitting at the desk, Keys leads me to two computers sitting next to each other on the floor. He grabs some old pillows from the corner of the room and sets them down, so we have a place for our butts besides the cold concrete. I notice that both monitors have the loading screen for Battlemages Unleashed pulled up already.

​“I thought I could teach you to play a bit,” he says as I sit down and squint at the screen. My contacts are a bit sticky after the shower. I should really take them out for that, and Doc’s gonna lecture me when he finds out I slept in ‘em … again.

​“Is it hard to play?” I ask.

​Keys shakes his head. “Not really. Some of the classes are tougher than others, but you don’t have to play a battlemage. You can just play … Hmm. How about a barbarian? That’s pretty much a button-mashing class. I think you’d like it. You basically run around smashing the shit out of your enemies.”

​Ooh! That sounds fun! “Cool. What buttons do I mash to smash?”

​We get so involved in the game that we miss the sunrise, and Kendrick and Doc have to come find us for breakfast. I’m already level twenty, and I just got a cool horse for a mount. My character has a massive club she uses to beat the shit out of the bad guys.

​I think I’m going to like Battlemages Unleashed.

Chapter 18

Doc

The first few weeks in the Burrow pass just about like every other week has in our chaotic lives, with the exception of a little more triage required on my part. Bunny and Kendrick go out on patrol nearly every night, seeking out MotoBoys to murder, and that usually results in more than a few injuries for me to patch up.

​After sheepishly admitting that he missed some clever compartmentalization in his initial hacks of the MotoBoys’ systems, Keys gets right back up on the proverbial horse and starts targeting their finances again. This time, he doesn’t miss anything, and within days the gang is scrambling to sell off their backup supply of weapons and drugs to earn enough cash to keep afloat.

​Word reaches a few of our people that Chico Angelo has put a hefty price on Bunny’s pretty little head. Drive-by shootings become common, to the point where Kendrick forbids Bunny from leaving the Burrow without him.

​That edict is about as effective as telling an actual bunny that it can’t hop.

​Thankfully for us, Bunny’s guardian angel must be on steroids. She manages to get herself into more trouble than I would have ever thought possible, but she gets out of every scrape and tumble with minimal injury—relatively speaking, of course. I still end up needing more medical supplies than I have on hand, so Kendrick goes on routine thieving sprees to keep me in stock with the basics. That man has a knack for acquiring whatever we might need, and I don’t question the legality of his acquisitions. As long as he stays out of jail, we’ll be fine.

​I continue to patch up the former residents of Buntown, who now reside in a sprawling network of abandoned and foreclosed homes that we acquired thanks to Keys’s skills. Everyone has running power and water, a small stipend for groceries and essentials, and, perhaps most important, security cameras that Keys monitors from his “control room,” as he calls it. He also doles out burner phones with Bunny, Kendrick, and my numbers programmed in, so our people can reach us if we’re needed.

​One afternoon, as I’m cleaning up the aftermath of a near-tragic kitchen accident, Bunny bounds into the clinic with a bow-topped box that looks like it was wrapped with newspaper by a toddler who shouldn’t have been allowed to handle the tape.

​She remembered my birthday. I’m touched.

​“I’ve got a surprise for you, Doc.” She beams with pride as I take the box and tear into the wrapping paper. I open it, and …

​… Is that a strap-on?

​“Um … Bunny?”

​“Yeah?”

​I clear my throat, feeling a blush burn my cheeks. “This … This is … unexpected.”

​“Do you like it?”

​“It’s … nice. High-quality.” And it is. It looks like she legitimately purchased this. Probably with stolen funds from the MotoBoys’ accounts, but still … Bunny actually went to the effort of almost legally buying something for me. As strange a gift as it is, I’m touched.

​I turn the assortment of leather and silicone over in my hands and resist the urge to snicker when I see the stud-like nobs on the underside of the, erm, giving end. It was clearly chosen for its resemblance to Kendrick and his Jacob’s ladder.

​There’s also a second silicone attachment on the inside of the harness. Looks like Bunny intends to enjoy this as much as she hopes me to.

​“This is … great, Bunny, but what if a patient had walked in just now?” I gently put the harness back in the box and start to close it. “I may not be a licensed doctor, but I do have a reputation to keep.”

​Bunny bounces on her heels and snatches the box from me. “I locked the doors. Clinic’s closed for the day.”

​Oh … She means to use this now.

​“Bunny, I—”

​“Strip.”

​The commanding voice flips a switch inside me, and the instinctual reaction is immediate. My dick jumps to attention, and I go from mild-mannered pseudo-physician to horny sub in no time flat. I don’t even bother unbuttoning my shirt; I just yank it over my head and drop my pants and boxers.

​“Bend over the table.”

​Yes, ma’am! I tremble with anticipation as I comply with her orders. Bunny grabs a roll of vet wrap and yanks my arms behind my back, securing my hands. Next, she kicks my legs apart, spreading them enough that she’s able to use the Coban to tie my ankles to the table legs. I’m completely at her mercy, totally vulnerable, and I can’t wait for what’s coming.

​Fabric rustles as Bunny removes her clothes, and I hear her pull the harness out of the box. I hear a soft sigh from her lips, probably brought on by the sensation of the inner dildo sliding inside her pussy as she puts it on.

​“Almost ready, Doc, baby. Just gotta prep you a bit, okay?”

​The lube is frigid when it enters my ass, and I shiver and twitch reflexively. Bunny kisses my cheeks, a soft contrast to the sudden smack she gives just before she slides the dildo into me.

​I’ve never been pegged before. My experiences with anal sex have all been with men, often while I was high as fuck, so I’m not quite sure what to expect. Will Bunny be gentle, or will she rail me like Kendrick does when he’s at his peak?

​“This is so fucking cool,” she says as she starts slowly easing in and out. “I’ve always wanted to do this …”

​Her words trail off as she picks up speed. I close my eyes, focusing on the sensation of the studded dildo dragging back and forth. Bunny grabs my hip with bruising force and yanks my dreads so hard it forces my head back. Soon she’s slamming into me. She shrieks and screams with each thrust as the dildo inside her hits something right.

​My dick is so hard it hurts. I want to grab it, to jerk off while she fucks me, but I can’t do anything with my hands tied. I’d ask her to stroke me, but I know better. When she’s in Bunny Domme mode, she doesn’t take requests.

​She takes charge.

​“Don’t come yet, Doc, baby. You wait until I come. Then you can let it all out. There you go. Just a little longer. I’m so fucking close, Doc.”

​Each word, each syllable, is a new thrust. A new slam. Another titillating tug on my hair, another lightning bolt of pleasure tearing through my body. I bite my lip, grunting through it all, hoping I can do as she asks and hold out. Bunny gives the best rewards when I’m a good boy for her.

​She shudders to a screaming halt, and just when I think I can’t bear it any longer, she reaches around and pumps my cock furiously until I come all over her slender hand.

​Bunny kisses my back and slides the dildo out. With surgical precision, she cuts the wrap off my wrists and ankles using her trusty switchblade in her left hand while she audibly licks and sucks her fingers on the right clean. The mental image I get from that is almost enough to make me hard again, but I know better than to turn my head to watch it. Bunny hasn’t said I can move yet.

​“That’s a good Doc. You’ve been very good for me today. You’ve earned a birthday treat, I think.”

​There’s more? My heart pounds as I carefully straighten and stand. My knees were locked in one position for too long, and I don’t want to pass out before I get whatever she’s planning to give me.

​“You wanna know what else I got you?”

​I nod, and the lock clicks out in the hall just seconds before Kendrick walks in.

​Buck-ass naked.

​More giggles from Bunny as she hops over to him. She kisses him and palms his hard cock before turning back to face me. Her hand never stops moving as she looks at me through those long lashes.

​“I got you a choice, Doc, baby: Front door, or back?”

​“What?” I blink in surprise, confused. I don’t get to choose Bunny’s backdoor. Like, ever. I’m supposed to take a passive role; that’s too close to letting me be in charge. Bunny knows better than that.

​Except … Except Kendrick’s here. Kendrick has total control over Bunny, despite her propensity for bratting. He wouldn’t let her get away with anything if it might be bad for me.

​“If I choose the backdoor?” I ask, genuinely curious of the outcome.

​It’s Kendrick’s turn to grin. “Then you get to rail our Bunny from behind while you suck my dick.” He leans a little closer. “Unbound.”

​Unbound? I lick my lips with anticipation. This really is a treat!

​“You’re, uh, sure you can reign me in if need be?”

​Taking a step forward, Kendrick grabs one of Bunny’s pigtails and gently pulls her down. “On your knees.” Her response is immediate, demonstrating her conditioning. He looks back at me with hungry eyes. “Positive.”

​Not wanting to look a gift threesome in the mouth, I snatch the lube off the table and kneel behind Bunny. She sighs contentedly as I prep her and slide in. I take hold of her luscious hips, grinding slowly and steadily, wanting to savor this. Bunny’s ass is even tighter than her juicy pussy.

​“That’s a good Doc. Start off slow. Don’t want to hurt her.”

​Kendrick stands over Bunny’s back, his thick cock jutting out right in front of me. The tip already glistens with precum. I lick it clean, and Kendrick shudders. He reaches down and caresses my cheek.

​“There you go. Take it in. Take it all in.”

​Everything starts out slow, gentle, almost sweet. I lick and suck my Dom’s cock while my hips bang into Bunny. She moans and screams, her voice echoing in the clinic, but Kendrick remains stoically silent.

​It’s all fucking perfect.

​Kendrick’s hand slides into my hair, holds my dreads, keeps me steady. Then it all breaks loose.

​I’m almost not ready for it. I have barely a second to brace myself before Kendrick starts to thrust into my face. His piercings click and clatter on my teeth, and I worry I might need some dental work after this. The sudden near-violence is shocking in the best way. My eyes roll back in my head, and I swallow him down as my hips pick up speed.

​The world shrinks as I close my eyes and succumb to the sensations. There’s just me, my dick buried in Bunny’s ass, her hips under my hands, and Kendrick’s cock down my throat.

​So many firsts … First time fucking Bunny’s ass, first time swallowing Kendrick … If I’m being honest, it’s the first time I’ve sucked any dick that wasn’t in exchange for drugs. That, and …

​It’s the first time I’ve cared about the man I’m pleasing.

​I never thought I would be worthy of loving someone, let alone two people. I almost don’t know how to react, how to behave around them. Especially now, after this show of affection. How can I go back to being calm, quiet, collected Doc when I’ve had all of this?

​Bunny’s screams gain volume. Pick up speed. Become needy, desperate. She grinds against my thrusting cock and arches her back. I squeeze her hips tighter and pound even deeper into her. My balls slap against her wet pussy over and over again. Even Kendrick starts making noise, with soft grunts that turn into satisfied moans.

​When he stills inside my mouth and comes down my throat just as I’m coming inside Bunny’s ass, I think it’s the happiest I could ever be.

​Kendrick strokes my cheeks while I swallow the last drops of him. He pulls out gently, more mindful now, it seems, of his piercings clacking against my teeth. I pull out as well, and while Bunny straightens herself, he drops to his knees in front of us. His massive arms wrap around us and bring us in for a three-way bear hug.

​“I love you two so much,” he murmurs, stroking our hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without either one of you.”

​Declarations of love from Kendrick? Granted, it’s just after sex, so maybe he’s just riding the endorphins from it all. Still, I feel like I should say something back. Respond somehow, let him know what’s been in my heart since he and Bunny rescued me.

​“Kendrick, I—”

​“Shh.” His lips meet mine, cutting me off. “You don’t have to say anything right now.”

​We stay like that for a while, long enough for my knees to ache and a chill to set in my bones. Fall is coming, and the temps have been dropping at night. Time to have Kendrick work on getting the heat running in the Burrow.

​Suddenly, the door to the clinic slams open, and Keys comes running in, out of breath and smeared with blood. What happened?

​“Shit, guys, I hate to break up the love fest, but we’ve got incoming. Some MotoBoys caught a few of our people out to lunch at a café. Broad daylight, right in plain view of the public. Betty’s hurt, and Crystal’s mom. I stalled them in case this was what you guys were doing, but you gotta throw on some clothes and get ready.”

​Just as quickly as he appeared, Keys darts back out the door, presumably to bring the patients in. I’m the first to my feet, grabbing items of clothing and yanking them on as quickly as I can. Bunny does the same, but Kendrick looks around with a panicked expression on his face.

​“Shit! I didn’t come in here with clothes on …”

​I open a locker and take out a pair of scrubs, tossing them at him. “Here. They might be a bit snug, but it’s better than assisting me naked.”

​Betty … Crystal’s mom … An elderly woman and a mother. What are the MotoBoys up to?

Chapter 19

Kendrick

Betty Jones died at eleven twenty-three on Doc’s birthday.

​He did everything he could, but his disappointment is written in the slump of his shoulders, in the way he clenches his blood-covered hands into fists on the table, in the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

​There was nothing he could do. Even though I’m not a physician, that much was clear. It’s a miracle, really, that she lived long for Crystal and her friends to being her to the Burrow with Crystal’s mom, Kathy. The gunshot wound went right through her head. I have no idea how she was even breathing when they carried her in.

​Kathy fared better. She was hit in the meat of her shoulder. After Doc dug the bullet out and patched her up, Bunny brought her to one of the spare rooms in the dorm hall to rest. Keys kept the kids occupied with Battlemages Unleashed loaded on several of his computers. His very own LAN party, right here in the Burrow. I’m actually impressed at his bravery during this. I suspect he would have volunteered to donate his blood if Doc had needed him to.

​I stayed with Doc until Bunny returned. We couldn’t leave him alone, but as soon as Bunny gets back, I brace myself to take care of Betty’s body. Find somewhere to lay her to rest before the cops catch wind of where she breathed her last.

​My instinct, when that gruesome task is done, is to go to Doc. By the time I finish, the exhaustion bleeds from my body straight into my soul, weighing me down even further. My everything is tired. I barely make it back to the Burrow’s garage; as it is, I bump into a support column before the van stops. With heavy limbs, I drag the partitions we use to keep people out to their places at the entrance. It wouldn’t do if someone got the bright idea to use the Burrow for free downtown parking.

​I stumble to the clinic first, somewhat confused when I don’t find him there. Did Bunny take him to our special room for a session?

​No. He’s not there, either. He’s not in his room, or Bunny’s room, or mine.

​Where did she take him?

​My tired legs propel me to the cafeteria, where I finally find Doc. He’s sipping coffee and eating from a package of stale cookies …

​… at gunpoint.

​No, the MotoBoys didn’t break in. It’s Bunny’s gun holding him hostage. She takes one look at me propped up against the door frame and flashes a tired grin.

​“He refused to eat, and the knife wasn’t threat enough. He just said he’d steal it from me and use it on himself, so we compromised.”

​Why am I not surprised that Bunny’s “compromise” involves a gun?

​Step by step, I force myself to Doc’s side. My brain screams at me to go to bed, to collapse on my stolen mattress and pass the fuck out, but Doc needs me. Bed can wait.

​I sit on the bench next to him, and he wordlessly hands me a cookie. I nibble at it without really tasting it. Something about this feels wrong, eating snacks when a friend just died. I know Bunny’s heart is in the right place, but maybe she should’ve fed him something with protein instead.

​Then again, I don’t know if I could stomach meat so soon after all that blood.

​The three of us sit in silence for a while before Doc clears his throat. He throws a sideways glance at Bunny and raises a brow. “Mother, may I?” he asks dryly.

​Bunny waves the gun at him. “One more cookie and finish your coffee. Then bed.”

​After Bunny’s comment about the knife, I’m not sure I want Doc going to bed alone right now. “Yeah. You and me, Doc, we’re going to bed. But Bunny’s right. You need to get a little more food in you first.”

​He chuckles as he bites into another cookie. “You call this food?”

​Bunny frowns. “It was the closest thing we had to cake. The little individual snack cakes were all moldy.”

​“I thought those things were supposed to last through a nuclear holocaust.”

​Not even a ghost of a smile from Doc. Either my joke was lousy, or he’s still really upset.

​After Doc finishes his cookie, we all head to the dorm rooms. Bunny trails behind, never taking the barrel of the gun off Doc’s back until he’s in my bedroom. She gives him a kiss before leaving us to ourselves. “Fix him,” she mutters to me under her breath before she shuts the door behind her.

​Poor Bunny. She doesn’t deal with emotions well, at least not the bad ones. She doesn’t understand them, doesn’t relate to them … in general, she doesn’t even feel them. To her, life is fun and happiness and the occasional spark of rage. But grief? Sorrow? Self-deprecation? Nope.

​Those just don’t exist in The World According to Bunny.

​Forcing Doc to eat at gunpoint is Bunny’s way of showing she cares, twisted though it may be. I’m sure Doc sees that, and eventually he’ll appreciate it, but he’s in such a dark place right now, I doubt he recognizes it for the display of love that it is.

​I lock the door and turn back to Doc, and my heart nearly stops.

​Where did he find that knife?

​“Doc!” I leap across the room and rip the thing from his hand before he hurts himself. “What the fuck, man?”

​His gaze is hollow, blank, as he stares into nothingness. “What does it matter?”

​“You couldn’t have saved her, Doc. No one could have. You can’t blame yourself for that.” I sit on the side of the bed next to him, tossing the knife into the corner. If I have to stay up all night to keep him from using it, then that’s what I’m gonna do. “Not even the best brain doc in the world could have saved her with that injury.”

​“Neurosurgeon,” he corrects softly. “And she would at least have had a chance with a real doctor. Someone who finished med school, someone who wasn’t fucking tweaked for half his training.”

​Shit. So that’s where his mind is taking him. “So you did some drugs in your day. So do lots of doctors. Fuck, I’ve heard stories of docs who get so wasted the night before rounds that they have to give themselves I.V. fluids to sober up. You recognized your faults, and you chose to drop out to prevent anyone getting hurt by your addiction. You chose to better yourself in other ways, to make yourself available to those who can’t afford hospitals or legit clinics. That takes guts, Doc. It takes heart, more heart than any fucking neurosurgeon.”

​“Heart couldn’t save Betty.” The bitterness in his voice cuts deeper than the knife I tossed ever could.

​“No one could have.”

​“I don’t even know why they brought her to me. Or Kathy. What if I fucked up with her, too? Then Crystal would have lost her boyfriend and her mom. That poor kid doesn’t deserve that.”

​I’m not following his train of thought. I think he’s off his tracks. Why is he talking like this?

​“Kathy wasn’t in real danger. That was an easy fix for you.”

​A dry bark of laughter comes out of Doc. “That’s all I’m good for, then? Easy fixes?”

​The smack of my palm on his cheek echoes in the small room.

​I’ve never hit Doc in anger. Not once. Sure, we’ve done some impact play during our sessions, but I’ve never hit him with intent to harm.

​I can’t believe I hit him.

​He lifts his hand to his face, touching the reddened skin gingerly. His eyes are wide with shock, like he can’t believe it, either. Time stops as we both realize what just happened.

​Then Doc finally crumbles. He withdraws in on himself, curling into a sniffling, sobbing ball of grief and guilt. The tears that threatened in the clinic now fall freely, and I scoop him into my arms, rocking him back and forth.

​“I’m sorry, Doc. I’m so sorry.”

​I don’t know what else to do, what else to say. He’s lost patients before … Why is this hitting him so hard?

​“Please, Doc. Tell me how I can help.”

​I hold him for hours while he cries himself out. Finally, just as the first rays of sun peek through the cracks in the blacked-out windows, the sobbing slows to a halt. He sniffles some more, then snuggles into me. When he speaks, his words are thick with exhaustion.

​“You guys can’t leave me, Kendrick. You and Bunny … You’re my stability. If you guys leave, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

​“Is that what this is all about? You think we’re gonna leave?”

​“If I can’t save every patient, what good am I to you?”

​I kiss his forehead and stroke his good cheek. “We need you, Doc. I can’t quantify what ‘good’ you are to us because there are a billion reasons why we need you. If we’re your stability, you’re ours, too. You keep us on the straight and narrow—well, as much as anyone can keep Bunny on the straight and narrow. You’re our conscience and our salvation, our hope and our heart. You’re everything that’s right with this little operation of ours. For every patient you’ve supposedly lost, you’ve saved dozens. Hundreds, maybe. I know for a fact you’ve saved me more than once. Bunny, too. That girl adores you, y’know. Not just because you heal her, but because of who you are.”

​I’d go on, but Doc’s light snoring informs me that he’s fallen asleep.

​I lay him back on the mattress and cover him with a blanket before curling up next to him with my arm draped over his chest. The slow rise and fall of his breathing reminds me that he’s alive, that he survived the night. As long as his chest keeps moving, as long as his heart keeps beating under my arm, I'll sleep just fine.

Chapter 20

Bunny

I sit on the floor outside Kendrick’s room and listen in, waiting for them to fall asleep. I know Kendrick won’t pass out until Doc’s better, so once the conversation and the crying have stopped and both their breathing evens out, I pick the lock and sneak inside. There’s not a lot of room on the bed with both of them there, but I manage to squeeze in on Doc’s other side and wriggle close.

​“I love you, Doc, baby,” I whisper in his ear. He makes a funny little contented humming sound in his sleep, and I know somewhere in that unconscious brain of his, he heard me. Good.

​The MotoBoys have gone too far this time. Sure, I was already gonna murder ‘em all, but now? Now it’s personal.

​How dare they let my Doc doubt himself? How dare they shoot Betty and Kathy and almost hit Crystal? How dare they crawl out of the woodwork when I wasn’t there to protect my friends? It’s shitty behavior, and I’m gonna punish them for it.

​I’m going to let Doc help, too. Fuck his Hypocritical Oath, or whatever it’s called. He’s got the know-how to hurt these fuckers, and I’m taking full advantage of that.

​My first thought is weapons of mass destruction. Chemical bombs, shit like that. We could hurt them more efficiently that way. Sure, there might be some collateral damage, but when isn’t there? Hell, collateral damage is practically my motto. My credo. My raison d'être. I live for collateral damage.

​Maybe after we gas ‘em, we can pick off the survivors, guerilla-style. Sneak in, slice some throats, eviscerate some guts, lop off some balls, then disappear into the night. Yeah. That would be cool.

​While I contemplate all the ways we’ll take out the MotoBoys, I also run through different ways we can protect our people from them in the meantime.

​I’m a multitasker like that.

​Keys will definitely have to do something about surveillance. He’s already tapped into most of the city’s police and traffic cams, but that’s not enough. I need him to access ATM cams, convenience store surveillance … I need him running through social media feeds in search of familiar MotoBoy faces. However we can locate these guys, whatever it takes. If they get close to anywhere our people might be, we need to know it.

​Next, we need a system of communication between Keys and me and Kendrick. We’ve got to be ready to deploy at a moment’s notice. If a MotoBoy so much as looks at one of my friends sideways, I need to be there yesterday to ice the bastard.

​Oh, and he’ll need to figure out how we’ll avoid police detection through all this. Keys is smart; if anyone can do it, he can.

​We’ve already financially desecrated Chico and his boys. They’ve been scrambling to move more guns and drugs to compensate, but so far any income they get is funneled straight into the Burrow Foundation (patent pending). That money then trickles down to my friends from Buntown. Thanks to the MotoBoys doing our fundraising for us, we can feed, clothe, and house everyone who needs it. Keys assures me he’s taken care of his little oversight from before, so they’re not likely to recover any time soon.

​I get so caught up in thoughts of vengeance and violence that I don’t even know when I fell asleep. One second, I’m plotting how I’ll violate Chico with his own junk, and the next I’m alone in Kendrick’s bed, tucked in nice and tight.

​They must’ve woken up and not wanted to bother me. I hope I didn’t miss breakfast.

​The aroma of pancakes hits me before I even get to the cafeteria. Kendrick must’ve gotten hold of some mix for us. That’s a nice treat. It’s not even Tuesday.

​Even better than the knowledge that pancakes await me is the sight of Doc eating his own pancakes—without a gun pointed at him. Good! He scared me last night with the way he withdrew into himself and refused to even take a sip of water until I threatened him.

​Crystal, Kathy, and the kids who brought them here are at the table next to Doc, all chattering quietly. A solemn aura surrounds them, like they don’t want to speak too loudly for fear of waking Betty from the dead.

​I spot Keys back in the far corner, alone at his own table. He’s nursing a steaming cup of coffee and sucking on a lolli. I head over to him first, since Doc seems okay for the moment.

​“Hey, Keys. Why are you all by yourself? Why not sit with Doc or Kathy and the kids?”

​He shrugs and takes a sip. “I don’t know. Kinda feels like I’m intruding no matter where I go. Doc’s got Betty’s death he’s dealing with, and Kathy and Crystal probably haven’t had enough time to process what happened. And the other kids … I mean, they had to carry Betty’s half-dead body across town to get to us. That’s pretty traumatic, too.”

​“But you played BU with them last night. Surely, they don’t see you as an intruder.”

​“They might not see me like that, but I do.”

​Great. Now another one of my guys is depressed. Guess it’s up to me to bring a ray of fucking sunshine into this party.

​“That’s it! Drop trou, like, now.” Hey, I made a rhyme!

​Keys’s eyes bulge open in shock, and he looks over at the table of teenagers across the room. “Bunny! There are kids here.”

​Ugh. He’s got morals. Or ethics. I get those confused.

​I raise my voice to be heard at the other table. “Yo, Kathy!”

​She turns and flashes a questioning look at me.

​“Think you could get everybody home now? If you don’t feel safe leaving here alone, I’ll have Kendrick and Doc escort you.”

​Kathy nods and gathers up the kids. Kendrick gives me an odd glance before following the group out of the cafeteria with Doc in tow.

​Keys, for some strange reason, stands up and starts to walk away.

​“Excuse me! I didn’t say you could go anywhere.”

​“You told me to strip. I thought you wanted to go do something in the bedroom …”

​I cross my arms over my chest with a sigh. “I didn’t tell you to strip. I ordered you to drop those pants. You can keep your shirt on.” I snatch his hand and yank him back to the seat. “And I never said anything about the bedroom.”

​“But—”

​“Shh!” Slapping my right hand over his mouth, I point down with my left. “Pants. Down. Now.”

​Keys finally does as he’s told.

​“Good boy. Now, I’m going to crawl under this table and suck your dick, and you’re gonna keep sipping that coffee and sucking that lolli.” My gaze never leaves Keys’s face as I continue my instructions. “If Kendrick and Doc get back before I’m done—or I should say before you’re done—you’re going to keep sipping that coffee like nothing’s happening.”

​“Bunny, babe, there’s no tablecloth. They’ll see—”

​My hand whips out to grab his lapel. “Like nothing’s happening, Keys. I don’t care if Kendrick asks you about it or starts shit. Just sip and suck.”

​I don’t give him a chance to object any further. I just get on my knees and get to work.

​I’m gonna turn that frown upside down. Or at least turn it into an O.

​Despite his objections, Keys, or rather his sizeable dick, is already fully in agreement with my suggestion for a breakfast activity. Starting at his balls, I lick my way up the veined, velvety shaft to the soft tip. Keys shudders, but he keeps quiet. I hear the slurp of coffee above me. It brings a smile to my lips as I take Keys’s head into my mouth, circling it with my tongue.

​Above me, Keys’s breathing becomes shallow and rapid. I swallow more of him in and reach up inside his shirt to toy with a nipple ring. Under my hand, his heart beats strong and hard, going a mile a minute.

​With my other hand, I cradle and caress his balls. I give them a gentle squeeze, and Keys releases a soft, almost inaudible moan. I slide off his cock with a pop and look up at him from underneath the table. “Like nothing’s happening, baby. Remember that.”

​Keys nods frantically and takes another sip of coffee, his hand shaking so bad that a few drips fall to land on my face. I smile and lick the brew from my chin before getting back to work.

​This time, I don’t hold back. I go full Hoover, sucking and swallowing him down until my nose brushes his pelvis. I push his legs apart and massage his trembling thighs.

​After a few minutes I hear a throat clear somewhere in the room.

​“Uh, ahem, Keys … You gonna have any pancakes, man?”

​I have to applaud Kendrick for keeping his cool. I know I’ll probably earn a punishment for this later on, but my Keys needed comfort and reassurance. Totally worth it for any future discipline I might have to endure.

​Who am I kidding? I love Daddy’s discipline.

​Keys takes a loud, slurpy sip. “Sure. Sounds great.” His voice cracks a bit on “great” as I give his cock a twisting squeeze while doubling down on the suction.

​“Cool.”

​Footsteps cross the room, and the sizzle of pancake batter on the camp griddle hits my ears. Something about the knowledge that not only could we get caught, we have gotten caught, gets me wetter than Niagara falls. Kendrick tolerates my shenanigans to a point, but I wonder what’s going through that bald head of his.

​I’m in so much trouble. It’s thrilling.

​A few minutes later, a plate clinks onto the table above me, and I hear Kendrick’s voice again.

​“Syrup?”

​“S-sure.” Keys’s whole body is on the verge of explosion. Tremors ripple through him, and just because I’m that much of a tease, I slip a finger gently into his ass, curling it until I hit that special spot inside him. He squirms, but he doesn’t say anything.

​Good boy.

​Then, something even hotter happens.

​The chair behind me scrapes back on the concrete flooring, and it creaks as all three hundred muscular pounds of Kendrick eases into it. His feet appear in my peripheral vision on either side of me, but he doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t outwardly acknowledge my presence under the table.

​“You, uh, doing all right after last night? I know you weren’t in the thick of it, but Doc and I just wanted to say we appreciate you distracting the kids while he worked. It was cool of you to let them all play that mages game of yours and use your computers. I’m sure they appreciated it, too.”

​Wow! Way to go, Kendrick! A spark of pride for my gruff man showing some affection towards Keys hits my heart, and I swallow Keys down even farther. Breathing becomes difficult, but I can still manage. He’s almost there; I can sense it.

​“And I know for a fact that Bunny appreciates all you do for us,” he continues, placing slight emphasis on my name. “I’m sure she’ll find a way to let you know how much she appreciates you, but I still feel I should say it out loud. Bunny’s not the best with this kind of thing. Consider me her emotional ambassador.”

​Keys’s thighs tighten under my hands, and I speed-swallow to keep from spilling.

​“Well,” Kendrick slaps a palm on the table, making Keys jump in his seat, “guess that’s enough of that. Good talk, man.” He gets up, and his footsteps recede into the kitchen area.

​Once I’m sure Kendrick is gone, I crawl up between Keys’s legs and straddle his lap. He’s still half hard, and I rub my wet crotch against his bare cock.

​“That was so hot, baby!” I kiss him, letting him taste any residual that might be in my mouth. “Feeling any better? I hope you don’t still feel left out. I never intended that. You can always eat at Doc and Kendrick’s table, even if I’m not there. Kendrick doesn’t bite. Well, not hard. Okay, sometimes he breaks the skin, but he totally will feel bad about it and make Doc patch you up.”

​“It’s okay,” he says, but I know he’s lying. “I’ve got friends online that I can talk to. There’s this one guy in Battlemages Unleashed that I chat with from time to time.”

​“Cool.” And I mean it. It’s cool that he’s making friends.

​Suddenly, Keys squirms under me, and he clears his throat. “Uh, Bunny? Mind getting up? I kinda have to take a piss.”

​Oh, boo. I’m comfy.

​I hop off and give him a chance to stuff himself back in his pants. When he’s decent, I remember something I’d been thinking about earlier.

​“Ooh! Keys! Surveillance!”

​Keys blinks at me like I just sprouted a second head. “What?”

​“For keeping our people safe and hunting down the MotoBoys.”

​“Oh, that. I’m already on it.” He holds up his wrist, which has a fancy smartwatch on it. “My program notifies me if it finds any known MotoBoys on any accessible system.”

​“Can it do that for, like, any suspicious activity? Like, find crimes in progress?”

​He shrugs. “Sure.” A second passes, and his eyes light up. “Are you suggesting we use my systems for your vigilante operation? Like, expand beyond just MotoBoys activities?”

​“Uh huh.”

​“And I could do it from here, without having to go out and put myself in danger?”

​“Sure, I guess.”

​“I’d be like Oracle …”

​“Uh, sure, babe. Whatever you want.”

​He gives me a peck on the cheek, then heads off to do who-knows-what with a fresh bounce in his step. I’m glad I could cheer him up with my suggestion, though it does make me wonder …

​What’s an Oracle?

Chapter 21

Bunny

It takes months to get everything set up. In the meantime, the MotoBoys and I take turns nipping at each other. They find a safehouse and rob or vandalize it, then I hunt them down and get my friends’ stuff back, killing however many of them I can find along the way.

​Not super-efficient, but it’s enough to piss off Chico Angelo, and that makes me happy.

​The more systems Keys gains access to, the more I’m able to protect my people. So far, no one else has died because of their connection to me. I’ll be forever paying penance for Kyle and Betty, but I haven’t earned any new Hail Marys or Our Fathers yet. Not that I’m Catholic, or particularly religious even—or that I’d go to confession if I was—but the point is, I’m slowly making progress.

​Finally, on Christmas Eve, Keys declares us ready for Operation Wipe Out. Kendrick and I gear up, though his outfit covers more square footage than mine. I tried to convince him to get himself something that matches or coordinates with my Bad Bunny getup, but he won’t even put on a pair of fuzzy wolf ears for me. I even promised him car head while we’re on patrol, but, as he pointed out, I tend to do that anyway if I get bored.

​Since the Big, Bad Wolf costume is out, Kendrick dons black riot gear instead. I don’t know where my guy even found the stuff, but I don’t question him on it. He has a knack for acquiring the things we need, and I’m not about to jinx that by making him fess up to his secrets.

​I gotta admit, the riot gear looks sexy as hell on him, especially since he cut off the sleeves to expose his muscular, tattooed arms. He says it’s for better ease of movement, but I like to pretend it's just for my benefit.

​Well, maybe mine and Doc’s. The good almost-doctor has a great poker face, but I know internally he’s probably drooling just as much as I am.

​As we load up the van, which Doc has tricked out Pimp My Ride style with emergency medical equipment, Keys meets us in the garage to see us off.

​“Be careful, Bun,” he says before giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Go where I send you, listen to my callouts, and whatever you do, don’t lose that earpiece. That’ll be the easiest way to stay in contact. Can’t swing Merrill as hard if you’re trying to keep hold of a phone.”

​Aww, he’s on a first-name basis with Merrill! Keys is finally finding his place with us. It warms my black little bunny heart.

​Kendrick pulls on a sexy pair of leather gloves and shoos Keys away.

​“Get back to your control room, dude. You can’t direct us as well from down here in the garage.”

​Keys salutes Kendrick and disappears into the stairwell.

​“Are you two ready?” Doc asks from the back of the van. “Kendrick, that vest may be bulletproof, but remember that you don’t have a bulletproof helmet or pants. You can still bleed out from a shot to the femoral artery, so be careful out there.”

​He doesn’t say anything about my one hundred percent non-bulletproof outfit, but then again, we’ve had that argument already.

​I won.

​“Let’s rock and roll!” I chirp, climbing into the shotgun seat.

​Kendrick sighs and gets behind the wheel. “Bunny, no one says ‘let’s rock and roll’ anymore.”

​“Well, I just did.” I stick my tongue out at him. “So at least one person says it.”

​He groans and starts the engine. The van stutters to life, and we’re off. Keys’s voice crackles from the stereo, which he’s jury-rigged to have a Bluetooth connection despite the van’s advanced age.

​“First MotoBoy spotting of the night: corner of Seventh Street and Morgan Avenue. Looks like they’re staking out the convenience store on the opposite corner. Three Boys, all armed. Guns mostly, though one is strapped with a couple knives like he thinks he’s fucking Rambo or some shit.”

​“Yes!” I clap my hands and bounce in my seat. “Sounds perfect.”

​Kendrick gives me a little side-eye. “You’re awful happy for someone about to murder people.”

​“People who deserve it,” I say with a pout. “Besides, they’ve all probably murdered plenty in their day. If you look at it that way, it’s like I’m delivering karma to them. It’s a public service, really.”

​He groans but doesn’t fire back. I think he’s learned that when I get an idea in my head, it’s there to stay.

​Doc’s his usual silent self in the back. I turn a bit and see him prepping syringes and checking the stock on bandages and other supplies. It looks like he’s anticipating some serious shit to go down, which is probably not far from the truth, though I don’t expect that it’ll be us needing the triage tonight. I’m in the mood to dole out injuries, not receive them.

​Kendrick parks a few streets down from the scene of the eventual crime. The two of us get out, leaving Doc by himself in the van. Just in case this is a trap, Kendrick hands Doc a gun and gives him a quick tutorial on how to release the safety, take aim, and fire. Doc nods his understanding, and we’re off.

​We creep down side streets and back alleys until we get to the targeted corner store. Sure enough, we arrive just as the sound of glass breaking pierces the cold, quiet night.

​I tighten my grip on Merrill and get ready to sprint for the front of the store. These fuckers are trying to ruin someone’s Christmas, and I’m not about to let them get any further than a broken window. The shop owners won’t wake to a devastating robbery. Not on my watch.

​Cruel laughter echoes in the alley. Rage bubbles up inside me, and my feet are in motion before I can even consciously think about running.

​They’re not ready for me. The idiots make so much noise busting stuff up that they don’t hear my heels on the pavement, so when Merrill cracks his first skull of the night, the other MotoBoys scream in shock.

​“Trick or treat, motherfuckers!” I shout as I backswing into the next Boy’s chest. The satisfying snap of ribs breaking is music to my ears.

​A gunshot takes out the third MotoBoy, and Kendrick appears in the shattered doorway of the shop.

​“Wrong holiday, Bun.”

​While MotoBoy Number Two wheezes and tries to catch his breath, I pull a gun and double tap the first dude in the head. He was still writhing and twitching, so I guess the brain injury from Merrill wasn’t enough to finish him off. Pity.

​“Well, I needed a snappy catchphrase. Christmas doesn’t really have one.”

​Keys’s voice sounds in my ear. “What about ‘Ho, ho, ho, motherfuckers’?”

​“Keys!” A broad grin spreads my lips. “Baby, aren’t you proud of me? We got ‘em before the store’s alarm could go off and alert the cops.”

​He clears his throat. “Uh, Bunny … I shut off the alarms for you.”

​Oh, poo! Here I thought we were just extra stealthy. “Oh.”

​The final MotoBoy standing—the one playing Rambo—tries to lift his gun and fire on us, but he can’t keep his arm steady. I put him out of his misery because I’m kind like that.

​“Three down! How many left to go?”

​“We’ve got activity in about seven different locations right now,” Keys says. “Looks like they’ve been planning to sweep the city while everyone’s resting up for tomorrow.”

​Kendrick holsters his weapon. “Fuck. We can’t be in seven places at once.”

​“Which is closest?” I ask Keys.

​“Ninth and Divine. A church. Looks like they’re mixing up a Molotov cocktail for the party.”

​Ugh. “Please tell me there’s no Midnight Mass going on there right now.”

​“Doesn’t seem to be. Place looks empty, though I think a pastor lives in the little gatehouse or whatever out back. If they decide to torch that, too, we might have a casualty on our hands.”

​“Well, that’s two blocks away. You up for a jog, Bunny?” Kendrick takes off before I can answer, but I suspect he knows I’ll be right behind him.

​“I’ll meet you around the corner.” It’s Doc’s voice in my ear this time. I guess Keys patched him in. “How many are there, Keys? They really need as many details as possible here. You can’t just send them in blind.”

​That’s my Doc: always practical.

​“Oops! Sorry. Two at the church. Then your next best bet is over on Hastings and McGee. Five Boys, all armed. All-night grocer, so there will be civilians around, but these guys are taking more time to case the joint. You’ve probably got fifteen minutes or so before they’re ready to go in, so you’d better be quick at the church.”

​I love this. Kendrick and I bop from location to location, taking out the MotoBoys as quickly and quietly as possible. There are a few slip-ups, a couple minor injuries that Doc has to patch up between gigs, but I’m totally in my element. I could do this all night.

​Fast forward to five a.m., when I have been doing this all night. We’ve managed to avoid any tragedies, and that’s got me extra pepped. Killing MotoBoys is like crack: one hit just isn’t enough. Then again, I’m not even twenty-two, and I’ve got plenty of energy to keep going well past time to open presents and drink some ‘nog.

​Kendrick and I couldn’t stop every crime of theirs, but thanks to Keys’s strategic direction, we kept them from killing anyone else. I’m counting that in the win column.

​Total body count for the night: Twenty-seven MotoBoys dead, zero of mine. Eat that, Chico.

​Speaking of the Latino devil, he’s been nowhere in sight tonight. Little shit is hiding out somewhere, and it pisses me off. He’s tucked himself safely away from me. Keys hasn’t spotted him anywhere in public since Betty’s death, but he’s still sending electronic communications to his guys that Keys can sorta track, but not enough to get a location. Chico’s tech guy is stepping up his game, so we can’t pinpoint the pinhead.

​Yet.

​Now that we’ve done a number on his numbers, he’s sure to come out of hiding eventually, if only to try to take me out of the equation. On some weird level, I think we understand each other. Leader to leader, that kind of thing. I like to think I’ve earned an unspoken respect from the guy, the sort of respect that can only be gained from the systemic slaughter of his allies.

​That, or I’ve one hundred percent pissed him off, and he’s gonna try to squish me like a bug. Whichever it is, I’m good with it. Bring it, Angelo.

Chapter 22

Keys

“I’m telling you, Bun, there’s just no way to know for sure. The café didn’t have any security cams, and whichever MotoBoy pulled the trigger, they wore sunglasses, a mask, and a hoodie. I can’t work any Christmas miracles for you.”

​Bunny pouts and crosses her arms over her chest, but it’s not going to do her any good. I just can’t tell if the gunman who killed Betty was among the gangsters she took out last night or not.

​“Bunny, he could’ve been Chico Angelo himself, and I wouldn’t be able to tell. I’m sorry.”

​She stomps her foot and storms off, leaving the table of presents untouched.

​“Bunny!”

​“It’s no use, Keys. She’s cranky from being up all night.” Kendrick yawns and starts perusing the packages. “Anything here for me?”

​What’s he doing? “We can’t open them without Bunny.”

​He snorts and grabs his gift from Doc. “It’s not like we have some hard-set tradition here. This is the first Christmas in the Burrow. I guess this year, we’ll open presents without her.”

​Doc reaches out and gently takes his gift back. “We really should wait for her. We’re the closest to family she has, Kendrick. We’ve always opened gifts together, even in Buntown. Don’t ruin this for her. Don’t leave her out.”

​The big man sighs and scrubs his beard. “Fine. I’ll go get her. I’m pretty sure I know what this obsession with Angelo is all about.”

​“You do?” Good, because I’m sure as fuck confused about it.

​“Yeah. She didn’t kill him tonight. We checked every corpse, and none of them were him. So it’s got her on edge. I’ll talk to her. Convince her to come back for presents.” He gives Doc and me a pointed look. “And then we’ll see if her mood improves.”

​Twenty minutes later, Kendrick drags a sulking Bunny to the cafeteria, where Doc and I have set up and lit the stolen tree. With plastic holly wreaths on all the tables and some tinsel that has seen better days hanging in the doorway to the kitchen, it almost looks properly festive.

​Bunny has changed out of her Bad Bunny getup into an adorably sexy red and white candy cane Christmas onesie that fits her a little too tight. It won’t zip up all the way, or maybe she won’t zip it up all the way. Whichever’s the case, I’m grateful for the view. Her cleavage looks amazing, with plenty of bounce and just enough lift to get the ol’ flagpole up and ready.

​“Okay, I’m here. Let’s open presents.”

​Her attitude could use some work, but I’m hoping my present makes up for last night’s disappointment.

​Bunny opens Kendrick’s present first. I’m confused by the pink and blue ropes in the package until Bunny squeals and says, “Oh, baby, they match my hair! Now when you tie me up, I’ll be, like, styling.”

​Oh! That’s what those are for …

​Next comes Doc’s present. When she opens it, it just looks like another Bad Bunny corset. Even Bunny herself looks a little confused until Doc points out the tag, which shows it’s made of Kevlar.

​“It won’t stop the bullets from hurting when they hit, but it’ll stop them from going through you. It should offer at least some protection.”

​She squeals again and kisses him, and I start to wonder if my gift is as great as I thought it was.

​“What did you get me, Keys?” she asks as she strips out of her onesie right there, changing into her new corset with zero concern for her audience. I suppose it doesn’t really matter, since all three of us have seen her naked, but it’s still a bit awkward.

Once she’s decent again, she picks up the gold envelope I stuffed her gift in. I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks. I don’t have the resources Kendrick and Doc have. I didn’t get Bunny any cool bondage rope or fighting gear. “It’s nothing. I’m sure it won’t compare to sex ropes or body armor …”

​She rips into the envelope before I can take it back from her and pulls out the folded printout inside it. Her pink eyes scan back and forth then widen as she realizes what she’s looking at. She glances from the page to me and back again. “Is this … Is this for real?”

​I sigh and run my hands through my hair. “It’s not as great as the other stuff. I didn’t have any funds of my own, though, and I’m not as good at stealing shit as Kendrick is, and—”

​Her next squeal of delight pierces the air—and my eardrums—and she almost bowls me over with her flying-leap bear hug.

​“Keys, this is amazing! I can’t believe you pulled this off!”

​Kendrick scowls, crossing his beefy arms over his broad chest, and Doc looks intrigued. “What the fuck is it, Bun? A poem or some shit?”

​Bunny dismisses Kendrick with a wave of her hand. “This is so much better than poetry. This is a true fucking declaration of love.” She unfolds the paper the rest of the way and holds it out for the other two to look at. “He fucking found Chico Angelo. Chico, his main lieutenants, and five of his top hitmen are all celebrating Christmas together.”

​The Japanese restaurant Chico chose for his holiday festivities is open all day, but they’ve put a “Private Party Only” sign on the door. That was a big clue, so I hacked their systems and got a screenshot of Chico and a good dozen of his top men eating fresh sushi. It’s a grainy pic, but there’s no mistaking him. The dumbass sat himself right in front of a camera.

​While Bunny does a sexy celebratory dance, Doc and Kendrick share a look.

​I clear my throat and chime in. “I know what you two are thinking, but even if this is a trap, we won’t get better opportunity to hit the MotoBoys where it hurts. Not after the rampage that Bunny and Kendrick went on last night.” I put an arm around Bunny and turn my face to her. “This is your present, Bun. You can use it or not, but you gotta decide fast. The chef is probably already prepping the desert course.”

​Bunny licks her lips and rubs her hands together. “LFG, guys!”

​I blink at her, confused. “You’re looking for a group?”

​“Oh, Christ, you nerd! She means ‘let’s fucking go.’” Kendrick picks up his riot vest from a nearby table and dons it. “Fine. But I want it noted on my tombstone that I was against this plan.”

​Doc raises a brow at him. “You haven’t even opened your gift yet. There might be something useful in there.”

​Kendrick freezes halfway to the door. He slowly turns and walks back to the gift table.

​The box isn’t the biggest, but it appears to have some weight to it when he picks it up. He casts a sideways glance at Doc. “Is it safe to shake it?”

​“I wouldn’t.” Doc smirks.

​Kendrick sets the box gingerly back down before taking his time pulling the tape and wrapping paper off. Bunny bounces on her heels while he opens it. “Hurry up, Kendrick! I wanna go murder!”

​Once the box is open, he pulls out a funky-looking gun. I peek over Doc’s shoulder and see a small package of little dart-looking things filled with liquid. Tranquilizers?

“What’s in ‘em?” Kendrick asks.

​“Fentanyl. Lethal doses.” Doc sighs. “Cyanide would have been better, faster acting, but I actually found it easier to get the fentanyl. Old connections and all that. Still, they’ll do the job, and even with the slower action time, they’ll work fast enough to hamper Chico and his men from fighting back effectively. They’ll be too busy trying to breathe.”

​“If you had gotten caught with this stuff …” Kendrick’s voice is tight, raspy. He’s got a point. This present could have landed Doc in prison.

​“Hey, lighten up. It’s Christmas.” Doc winks at Kendrick. “Just make sure you don’t accidentally shoot yourself in the foot or something. And don’t let Bunny have it. She’ll go a bit overboard. I trust you to be wise in your target choices.”

​Bunny pouts. “I can be wise.”

​“Here, Keys.” Doc picks up a small envelope. “We should finish opening everything before they go.”

​“For me?”

​“Merry Christmas.”

​I open the envelope and pull out a small business card with something scribbled on the back. I squint at the writing, but I can’t make out what it says. “Let me guess: You wrote this yourself.” I shake my head with a laugh. “Didn’t finish med school, but you passed the ‘doctor’s handwriting’ class with flying colors.”

​That earns a chuckle from Doc. “It says ‘Get out of one injection free.’ The next time I need to poke you, you get the option of passing. Granted, you might want to hold out for something mild like a flu shot, but if you need anesthetic or antibiotics and you want to pull this card, I’ll respect your wishes.”

​Wow. That’s actually really sweet of him. “Thanks, Doc.”

​“My turn!” Bunny hands out a few packages, one for each of us. They’re small and hastily wrapped, with more tape than probably is necessary.

​We all rip into our gifts. All three boxes contain pink rabbit’s foot keychains, each with a rusty key on it. Doc and Kendrick look at me as if I know what this is all about, but I’m just as confused as they must be.

​“They’re keys to my heart, you guys!” Bunny giggles and claps her hands. “Well, technically they’re just random keys, but you get the gist.”

​There are two presents left: a small, thin square the size of a CD case and an elongated rectangular box. They look like they’ve been professionally wrapped. The creases are immaculate and precise, and there’s even a fancy bow on each of them.

​Since I was a prime jackass and didn’t get Doc or Kendrick anything—I wasn’t expecting anything from them, after all—I realize these must be from Kendrick.

​He hands Doc and me our gifts. Doc gets the rectangle; I get the CD. “Doc should probably open his later,” he says, his cheeks turning red, “but go ahead and open yours, Keys.”

​I feel bad tearing the wrapping. It’s so pristine; I almost wish I had a phone with me so I could take a picture first. A closer check at the bow reveals that it’s handmade. With extreme care, I peel the tape off, trying not to tear the paper. I fail almost instantly, and it takes me so long to open it that Kendrick yanks it from my hand and rips the beautiful wrapping apart. He shoves the CD case in my hand and says, “Here. Merry Christmas.”

​I look down, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. It’s a copy of the latest Battlemages Unleashed expansion—the deluxe edition, with bonus digital content.

​It’s still in the game store packaging.

​With the receipt taped to it. He paid cash.

​I have no words.

​I gawk for so long that Kendrick gets the wrong impression. He groans and runs his hand over his scalp. “Fuck. I got the wrong thing, didn’t I? I asked the dude at the counter, and he said this was what I needed …”

​“It’s perfect,” I whisper, still in shock.

​I always get the impression that Kendrick hates me with every fiber of his being, and he’s never said or done anything to the contrary—until now.

​This took thought. It took effort. This isn’t just a sidenote gift.

​“Welp,” Kendrick says, breaking the silence. “Let’s get going. We’ve got gangbangers to kill, friends to avenge, that kind of thing.”

​Just like that, the loving Christmas vibe is shattered. After spending all night nipping at Chico’s underlings, it’s time for Bunny to suit up and go after the head of the organization.

Chapter 23

Bunny

The bodyguards outside the restaurant go down easily enough. A few silenced shots, a few hits from Merrill, and we’ve got an in. They didn’t even have time to radio inside for help.

​Frankly, it’s almost too easy.

​Anticipation of what’s to come, plus the brief outdoor warmup, have my blood pumping wildly in my body. Doc would probably tell me to sit down and rest if he heard my heartbeat right now. I’m no doctor—well, neither is Doc, technically—but even I know that the erratic palpitations aren’t a good sign.

​It’s probably excitement. Maybe nerves, but then again, I don’t really get nervous. Just one more thing that’s broken in my brain.

​I take a moment to thank whatever universal power brought my guys to me. I don’t quite believe in God or any kind of supreme being, but part of me thinks there might be some unknowable forces at work here. Fate? Destiny? Liam Neeson? Who knows, but regardless of the hows and whys, I’m eternally grateful for the three of them. They don’t judge me for being broken. They don’t even try to fix me; they just love me. How lucky am I for that?

​Okay, enough mushy introspection. Time to act.

​The soft creak of a door opening behind the restaurant draws my attention. I signal Kendrick, and we slip down the alley to see if the person I hear is friend or foe.

​It’s a restaurant worker, a dishwasher from the looks of him, a wiry teenager trying to grow a wisp of a moustache on his acne-riddled face. Kendrick’s on him in a flash, wrapping his arms around the kid’s neck in a sleeper hold. A few seconds later, the kid is out. He carries him behind the Dumpster, in part to keep him hidden from sight, but mostly to keep him safe from the bloodbath that’s to come.

​The whole thing is over so fast that I have time to catch the kitchen door before it slams shut. Kendrick and I dart inside.

​The kitchen staff gapes at us as we enter. I imagine we’re quite the sight: me in my Bad Bunny gear, Kendrick dressed like a sexy tank of a man. Probably not the Christmas gift they were expecting.

​Since we anticipated some civilian involvement, his first few rounds in the tranq gun are actual tranquilizers. He snoozes the cooks, sous chefs, and other dishwashers in seconds, with me running to catch the unconscious bodies before the thumps alert Chico’s inside guards.

​So far, so good. No shouts, no indication that we’ve been discovered yet.

​While Kendrick reloads with the fentanyl darts, I check the chamber in my own gun. Not that I plan on using it necessarily—Chico Angelo deserves a more personal touch—but it’s always good to be prepared.

​“You know Chico’s mine, right?”

​Kendrick nods. “Never questioned it.”

​“Good. Fentanyl’s too quick for him.”

​“Agreed.”

​My guy takes out the beefy guards standing outside the private party room while I gently redirect the hostess and servers outside … at gunpoint. I make them hand over their phones and give them strict instructions not to call the cops until they see me and Kendrick vacate the place. From the looks on the servers’ faces, they’re more than happy to cooperate. I’d wager Chico and his men got a bit handsy with them, so they probably couldn’t care less what the fuck I do to the goons in there.

​Good. Compliant witnesses are the bestest.

​Back inside I go. Time to take out the trash.

​Permanently.

​Kendrick meets me outside the party room. From the ruckus inside, it doesn’t seem that they’ve noticed us yet. That’s perfect; I want to get the jump on them, to startle at least a few into shitting their pants when we storm in.

​Okay, so hardened bangers aren’t super likely to shit their pants. A girl can dream, right?

​Since he’s got the tranquilizer gun, I let Kendrick take point. We stand on either side of the door, out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment. When there’s a slight lull in the boisterous conversation, I nod to Kendrick, and that’s that.

​A few of Chico’s men manage to shout when he strides in, tranquilizer gun raised and ready. The soft, silenced whiff of the darts shooting through the air makes its way to my ears, and I count the shots. According to the security footage Keys got for us, there should be a baker’s dozen, Chico included.

​One whiff. Two whiffs. Three whiffs. Four … and a grunt.

​Wait, a grunt? That sounded like a Kendrick grunt!

​Shit.

​So much for the plan. I bound into the room and take a blind swing with Merrill at the closest head that’s not Kendrick’s. The MotoBoy who got the jump on him goes down with a sick, wet crack. My backswing takes out the next guy, breaking his nose, and I fire away at the rest.

​While I’m doing riot control, Kendrick manages to reorient himself, shaking his head to clear it before raising his gun again and starting over.

​Though I’m focused on my aim, a part of me acknowledges the blood seeping out from around the knife buried in Kendrick’s shoulder. We’ve gotta be quick about this. My guy is tough, but he’s still human. He loses enough blood, and he’s going down.

​A third of the enemy clutch their throats, wheezing as the fentanyl shuts down their respiratory systems. Two more lie bleeding and broken from Merrill, and I nail the lieutenants on either side of Chico with headshots before enough of the rest recover to draw their weapons. Kendrick shoots two of the last three throwaway targets, but the next-to-last asshole hits me square in the corset with a double-tap.

​Thank God for Doc’s Christmas gift. It hurts like hell, but I’m alive.

​Alive though I may be, I’m still pissed that he had the audacity to shoot me. I aim a little lower and take out both nuts before kneecapping him. While he lies there, moaning and whining, I step over him, grab Chico’s collar and press the barrel of my gun to his temple.

​The whole thing happens in slow motion for my brain, but in reality it’s over in a minute or two.

​To my utter annoyance, Chico has the fucking nerve to sport a wide, creepy grin. Doesn’t he know I have him dead to rights? He should be whining, sniveling, and begging, not smiling. Fucking jerk.

​“I’d ask if you have any last words, but that would imply that I give a shit about what you might have to say.”

​There. That’ll show him.

​The grin gets wider. “You’ll never be free of me, coneja. I’ll always be in that pretty little head of yours.”

​I press the gun harder to his thick skull and spit in his eye. He doesn’t budge.

​“¿A tu? No soy coneja. Soy tu dios, cabrón.”

​Contrary to what I expect, Chico doesn’t shiver in his boots. He doesn’t wince, doesn’t flinch. He laughs. The motherfucker just laughs at me, with all his top men lying dead or dying around him.

​This dude is crazier than I am!

​“You’re more cultured than most street rats I’ve met. Where’d you learn Spanish, dear rabbit? From your choice of words, I’d wager it wasn’t Saturday morning cartoons.”

​Dude is playing mind games. I can’t let him distract me. Gotta focus.

​“Who pulled the trigger on Betty? Who pushed the button on the bomb that killed Kyle? Speak up, and you might live long enough to regret your shitty attitude.”

​“Does it really matter, Rabbit God? Whether it was me, or one of these dead men here, or someone you haven’t met yet, no amount of revenge on your part will bring your friends back.” He laughs again and leans back in his chair, twirling his chopsticks in one hand. “What kind of god are you if you can’t bring them back from the dead?”

​How dare he throw my words back in my face? The fucking nerve!

​“Don’t listen to him, Bun,” Kendrick says from behind me. I hear another whiff of a tranquilizer dart, and when I spare a glance away from Chico, I see that he nailed the guy who shot my corset. “Don’t let him get in your head. Just take him down, and let’s get out of here.”

​“I was getting back to that guy, y’know.” I’m slightly miffed that he took away one of my toys. Suddenly, an idea sparks in my brain that’s so genius, I almost scare myself. “Hey, Kendrick, there’s a basement in the Burrow, right?”

​Kendrick narrows his eyes at me. “Yeah … Why?”

​“I’ve got an idea.” I rear back and pistol-whip Chico in the back of his fat head. It’s lights out for the gangster, who drops like the sack of shit he is. “We’re gonna play.”

​“Bunny, please, just kill him and be done with it. The longer we let him live, the more chances he’ll have to escape or something.”

​“He won’t escape.”

​“You say that now,” he says, kneeling next to Chico and pulling some zip ties out of a cargo pocket. “But they always wake up and slip away. Like, every damn time.”

​“Oh, come on! That’s only in bad movies.”

​“He’ll have a knife in his pocket or some shit and get loose. Just you wait.”

​I heave a heavy sigh and pull out my own knife. A few slices and some ripped fabric later, and Chico is as naked as the day he was born.

​“There. No pockets, no knives.”

​“You’re seriously going to make me carry a nude man out of here?”

​Ugh. Men and their insecurities. I yank the tablecloth off, sending dishes and sushi flying. “Fine. We’ll give him a blankie. How about that?”

​Kendrick shakes his head. “I swear, I’m in love with a crazy woman.”

​“But you do love me.”

Chapter 24

Doc

“You want me to do what to Chico?”

​“You’ve seen the movie Hard Candy, right, Doc? It’s just like that.”

​I pinch the bridge of my nose. When Kendrick and Bunny ran out of the restaurant carrying a human-sized bundle in a tablecloth, I was not expecting a naked gang leader, nor was I expecting Bunny to declare that we were bringing him back to the Burrow for “fun.”

​I certainly wasn’t expecting her to explain that “fun” meant “castration and other various tortures.”

​“Bunny … If he survives, or if he gets free …”

​She scoffs and tosses a braid over her shoulder. “You’re just as bad as Kendrick. He won’t get free. If you’re worried about him running off, all we gotta do is sedate him a bit. Then it’s snip-snip, and boom! No mini Chicos running around.”

​“If you plan on killing him eventually, Bun, there won’t be any little Chicos anyway.”

​Kendrick has a valid point. “Bunny, why do you want to castrate the man? You’ve essentially won now. His organization is in shambles, he’s broke, and you’ve humiliated him. Why not slit his throat and be done with it?”

​Bunny’s eyes glaze over, and a darkness creeps into her expression that makes even Kendrick step back.

​“He needs to suffer. Kyle suffered. Betty suffered. A quick death is too good for him.”

​Damnit, she pulled the Betty card.

​This is the first time Bunny’s brought me one of her victims pre-mortem. I’ve seen plenty of dead bodies over the years I’ve spent with her, but never a live catch. What does she expect me to do with him? Does she really think I’ll castrate the man for her?

​If nearly eight years in med school taught me anything, it’s that doctors are supposed to help people, not hurt them. I never officially took the Hippocratic Oath, but I try to uphold it anyway. Now, though, I’m presented with a patient that I don’t particularly want to help. In fact, when I think about what happened to Betty …

​… I want to hurt him.

​But I can’t! I can’t do what Bunny’s asking me. No matter how much I despise Chico and his actions, I can’t justify harming him for it. I don’t know how to reconcile my conflicting feelings surrounding the man. I’m not like Bunny; I can’t just shut off my humanity in favor of vengeance.

​There’s got to be some way to make Chico pay for his crimes without sacrificing my ethics in the process.

​“Doc?”

​I shake my head to clear it as Bunny gives me a questioning look. “Sorry.”

​“So … Are you gonna slice and dice, or what?”

​“I—I can’t.”

​“What?” Her shriek echoes in the empty basement. “Doc, he fucking blew up our home. He shot our friends. I don’t care at this point who the trigger man was; Chico was behind it all. He’s guilty as fuck. He needs to pay.”

​“I can’t be the one to make him pay, Bunny.”

​She takes a step towards me, hands balled into fists, but Kendrick stops her. “No, Bun. He’s right. We can’t ask that of him.”

​“So Chico just gets off Scot free?” Tears of frustration well in her eyes.

​“Not quite.” Stepping back, I drop the key to the supply cabinet. It clatters on the concrete floor with a metallic ringing. “I won’t help you hurt him, Bunny, but I won’t stop you, either. Do what you want. I’ll be upstairs when you’re done.”

​If Bunny says anything after that, I don’t hear it. My mind swirls with dark thoughts as I trudge back up the steps to the main level.

​I need a drink.

***

​While I wallow in self-pity with a half-empty bottle of Jack I found hidden in the cafeteria, Keys appears, sucking on a lollipop, as always. Chico’s screams make their way through the ventilation system, muffled but still audible even up here. Whatever Bunny’s doing to the man, it doesn’t sound pleasant.

​Keys winces as a particularly loud wail pierces the air. He takes a seat across from me and nods in the direction of my bottle. “I thought you weren’t supposed to have stuff like that.”

​I shrug and take a swig. “Whatever.”

​“Kendrick’s gonna be pissed.”

​“I can handle Kendrick.”

​Silence stretches between us, long enough that I wonder if Bunny’s finally done the deed. A sobbing screech answers that question for me, and I take another swig of Jack. I glance at my watch. She’s been at it for two hours now.

​“You’re not down with Bunny.”

​Keys’s statement hangs there, waiting for some kind of response. I don’t have any words for him, though. He clears his throat and tries again.

​“Look, I don’t know exactly what you’re going through here, but if you need someone to talk to about it … I mean, I know we’re not close buds by any means, but I’m here for you, man. Whatever is going on, I’ll, you know, listen and shit.”

​His awkwardness is cute. Despite my sour mood, I find myself cracking a small grin. “Much appreciated. Don’t know that I’ll take you up on it, but I value the effort.”

​“Yeah, well, y’know … any time. Offer still stands. Consider it an open invitation to chat.”

​I know Kendrick has reservations about the man, but Keys is all right. A bit of a criminal, but aren’t we all? His heart’s in the right place, and that’s what really matters in the end. Bunny cares for him, too, and despite her propensity for wanton violence, she’s got a pretty good instinct when it comes to reading people. She wouldn’t have taken Keys in if he wasn’t a good man.

​“Hey, the screaming stopped. You think she’s done?”

​We pause for a few minutes, listening. The vents are blissfully—and ominously—silent.

​“She might be finished, or he could have passed out or had a heart attack. It’s impossible to know for sure without going down there to check.” I toss my head back and take a few more swallows of the whiskey.

​Keys blanches, his skin turning even whiter than normal. “Y-you’re not going to go check?”

​“Nope.”

​His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “She … she wouldn’t do that to any of us, would she? I mean, the whole torture and murder thing.”

​I decide to mess with him a bit. “If one of us crossed her? Absolutely.”

​If that white boy gets any whiter, he’ll be a ghost. “Doesn’t that worry you? Like, what if one day she just up and flips out on us?”

​Looking him square in the eye—not easy with how much Jack I’ve had, especially considering I have to pick which of the two Keys I see to look at—I draw a finger across my throat in a slashing motion. “Then we’d better pray she’s quick about it.”

​Before Keys passes out on me, I dial it back. “I’m kidding, man. She wouldn’t hurt any of us. Besides, I thought you’d seen Bunny in action before. Why are you suddenly so squeamish?”

​He shrugs and takes out the spent lollipop stick, popping a fresh sucker in his mouth immediately after. I’m glad Bunny found a suitable replacement vice for him; I can’t imagine how awful the secondhand smoke would be if he did that with cigarettes.

​“That was different. They came after us, and she made it quick. This?” He shudders. “This sounds … not quick. This sounds absolutely terrifying. It doesn’t help that she’s got the guy right downstairs. This is, like, our home now. I guess it’s a little too close for comfort, you know?”

​His concerns are valid, if a bit hypocritical. From what Bunny told me, he got so turned on when she fought the MotoBoys in the diner parking lot that he couldn’t even wait to get her somewhere private before jumping her bones. Just right there in the alleyway, where anyone walking by could have seen them. It’s something I’ve come to expect from Bunny, even Kendrick, but an introvert like Keys? Seems a bit out of character.

​“I gotta say, Keys, the doc I did my psych rotation with would have loved you.”

​“Huh?”

​“Never mind.” I finish the Jack and get up to toss the empty bottle. On my way to the trash can, I stumble right into a bloody Bunny. She’s covered in splattered and smeared blood, though at least it all appears to come from someone else. I don’t see any wounds underneath the mess, anyway.

​“All done!” she chirps as she skips over to where Keys sits.

​“Whoa,” he says, holding his hands up as if to ward her off. “Uh-uh. Not while you’re covered in dead biker. Take a shower before you sit where we eat.”

​Kendrick walks up behind her and grabs her shoulders to steer her in the direction of the showers. “He’s right. You shouldn’t be sitting at these tables while the freaking blood is still … gooey. Go shower off, get changed, and by the time you’re done, I’ll have Christmas dinner ready for all of us.”

​Bunny groans and stomps off to the showers, clearly peeved at having her fun interrupted.

​“And you,” Kendrick adds, wiping his hands on a napkin, “need to sober the fuck up. Bunny’s still caught up in the moment, so maybe she didn’t notice you wavering on your feet, but I did. You need a shower, too. A cold one.”

​I don’t need to see his expression to know he’s disappointed. It’s in his tone, plain as day. “Sorry.” I follow Bunny to the communal showers that we have.

​I don’t know why the warehouse has them, but they’re like gym showers: several individual shower heads in one room, separated by half stalls. I assume they’re here for the same reason as the dorms. Both are weird, but they’re convenient to have, especially right now. If I’m going to sober up with a shower, I’ll need a colder one than Bunny will be taking, so it helps that we have multiple stalls.

​Bunny finishes her shower first, so I’m alone when Kendrick finds me toweling off.

​“You at least process what you needed to?” he asks.

​“Yeah, I think so.”

​“Good. Because I doubt Bunny’s truly done. She’s got it in her head now that she’s some kind of avenging angel, a vigilante looking out for the little guys in town. I get the feeling tonight’s just the start of something. For better or worse, we’re in the thick of this with her now. If you’re in, I need to know that you’re all-in, and if you’re out, well …” He pauses. “I need to know either way, but if I’ve gotta break it to Bunny that her favorite Doc is skipping out because he can’t stomach this, then let me know now.”

​Could I ever leave Bunny, though? Could any of us? We’re all three in so deep, I don’t think even a little murder is enough to turn us off at this point.

​“I’m not going anywhere. As long as I don’t have to take part in this side of Bunny’s new role in life, then I’ll be good.”

​“Will you still patch her up, though? Bunny’s sense of self-preservation stinks.”

​That’s enough to get a chuckle out of me. “If that isn’t the understatement of the century, Kendrick, I don’t know what is. Yeah, of course I’ll stitch her up. If Bunny needs me to take care of her, I will. Absolutely. Her, you, Keys, anyone who needs fixing, I’m there. Just don’t ask me to take anyone apart again.”

​“Fair enough. Oh, and Doc?”

​“Yeah?”

​“I hid the rest of the liquor. You’re cut off.”

​“Understood.”

Chapter 25

Kendrick

Things pretty much settle down for a while after Chico Angelo … goes missing. Bunny seems happy hunting small-time crooks, Doc keeps his promise to keep her alive, and Keys even picks up a meatier part of the work, using Summer City’s tech to help Bunny find suitable targets. For almost five years, we’ve done a decent job of cleaning house when it comes to the scum of the city, and no one else that Bunny cares about has died.

​It’s almost too easy, honestly.

​Maybe boredom is setting in after so many years of status quo. I just kind of miss our days of dark adventure. I want more adrenaline than I get busting convenience-store robbers. More risk.

​I guess that’s why I go along with Keys’s suggestion that we scope out a mob-run club tonight.

​We pack up the van like always, but something seems a bit off. Keys won’t stop fidgeting, and he trembles when he gives Bunny her usual “goodbye kiss” before we leave. I pull him aside in the parking garage to ask him about it.

​“What’s the deal, Keys? You’re acting weird about tonight.”

​His eyes dart back and forth, looking for an out, but I’m too big for him to get past. “Me? Weird? Nah.”

​Okay, that’s extra weird. “Spill it, nerd.”

​“There’s nothing to spill, Kendrick, I swear! I just … I’m a bit nervous about the scope of tonight’s gig. That’s all. I mean, Bunny hasn’t gone up against any organized criminals in years, not really. A few thugs here and there, but … Like, I know the head of the Vipers hangs out there. What if she’s rusty?”

​I roll my eyes. “Need I remind you that this is your idea? Fine time to get anxious about it.”

​“Yeah, well, I’m an anxious person. Remember the time Doc threatened to shoot me up with benzos if I didn’t relax?”

​His lame attempt at a joke doesn’t ease my mind about this. “You got some side piece we don’t know about that’s going to this club?”

​The nervous laughter he barks out isn’t helping his case. “Me? A side piece? When the fuck would I ever find a side piece? You know damn good and well that I never leave the Burrow. Haven’t in years.”

​“True enough. Still, if I find out you’re setting Bunny up somehow, you’re gonna be in a world of hurt.”

​He gulps and nods. “Roger that.”

​“Kendrick, baby, let’s go!”

​I turn to look and find Bunny hanging halfway out the back of the van. Doc grabs the waist of her corset to keep her from falling out, and she just giggles.

​Keys takes advantage of the distraction to dart away, heading for the stairs and probably his stupid “control room.” The fucking weirdo acts like he’s some comic book sidekick in there, guiding us to the next job every night by radio. Unfortunately, Bunny just encourages that fantasy by cheering him on and giving him tons of praise when one of his leads pans out. I even overheard her calling him her Oracle one time.

​The drive to Club Viper passes more or less in dead silence, and I suspect from the tense set of his shoulders that Doc is just as nervous about this as I am. He occupies himself with checking the supplies in the back of the van, but I know him well enough.

​Bunny, on the other hand, bounces in her seat like a kid on the way to Disneyland. She can’t seem to wait for tonight.

​I park the van around the corner from the club. Keys is nonstop chattering on the radio, saying how he’s got a bad feeling about this and how there’s a clubgoer who seems to be in trouble. Something about Club Viper’s bouncers paying a little too much attention to this one guy, whatever that means. I wonder if this innocent clubgoer is Keys’s side piece. He’s a little too invested in the guy’s wellbeing for him to be a stranger, but I have no idea when Keys would have had a chance to meet someone. An internet friend, maybe?

​Wait, that’s crazy. What computer geek would be going to Club Viper to hang out?

​I’m just about to give up and call this night a bust when Keys lets out a panicked shriek. The radio squeals, and I wince.

​“Fuck! One of the bouncers just jumped him! I knew it!”

​Shit. Bunny’s out of the van before we can even hash out a plan of attack.

​I rush to unbuckle and stuff an earpiece in my ear on my way down the alley to the back entrance of the club. Bunny disappears inside ahead of me, and I hear the familiar sound of fists on flesh and Merrill cracking a skull. By the time I get in there, it’s all over. Bunny crouches over a prone body with a curious expression on her face. A few feet away lies another body, this one with his head caved in. “Just … call me Bunny,” she says as I trot towards them.

​Great. She’s giving the dude her real name. Well, as close to her real name as anybody knows. I don’t even know Bunny’s real name.

​“Okay, Bun, which one’s the rescue, and which one’s the one we need to make disappear?” I crack my knuckles and stretch, getting ready to haul one of these guys out of here.

​She nods at the body in the suit while wiping blood and brains off Merrill. “That’s the one that started it. The other guy’s just a misunderstood drunk.”

​Misunderstood drunk, my ass. He’s connected to Keys somehow; I guarantee it.

​Once we get back to the Burrow, Bunny disappears upstairs while Doc and I work on the rescue. We get him stabilized easily enough, but something still nags at the back of my mind.

​“This is gonna be trouble, Doc.”

​He wipes at a smear of blood on his cheek. “The patient? He seems harmless enough.”

​“No, like, tonight in general. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this.” I reach out and clean up the blood that he missed. “Here. Let me get that. Anyway, between interfering in the Cobra’s shit and straight up killing one of his bodyguards, this can’t end well for us. Tonight’s not going to be the end of this. Not by a long shot.”

***

If you haven’t read Call Me Bunny yet, now’s the time! Find out just how right Kendrick is in the next book—out now! Keep reading for the exciting first chapter …

Chapter 1

Neil

It all starts with a friendly dare. “Go to the club with us, Neil.” “Tear yourself away from the computer and live a little.” “Who knows? You might even meet a hot chick there!” “It could be a life-changing experience!”

​I have no idea how much one night at Club Viper might change my life, but I guess I’m about to find out.

​Let me backtrack a little: I’m something of a gamer nerd. Okay, I’m a huge gamer nerd. Full-on. I made it my life—literally. Game design fascinated me so much that it became my chosen career. When I’m not working on games at my job? I’m playing them at home. I don’t really get out. Like, ever.

​No real friends outside of work, unless you count online buddies. Even my so-called girlfriend is virtual. Bunnyluv69. I met her in-game; we play on the same server in Battlemages Unleashed. I’ve never seen a real-life picture of her. Just her avatar. But I’ve heard her voice, and she’s got the dirtiest mouth. We plan on meeting at some point, but she’s even more introverted than I am. She says she never gets out, not even for a grocery run. She has everything delivered. The pandemic was a dream come true for her.

​Nobody I work with considers this a real relationship. They seem to think I should be putting myself out there, getting laid in real life—not just a little cybersex.

​Cue the peer pressure. My coworkers, many of whom actually have lives outside of the gaming world, needled me until I gave in and agreed to a night out.

​Before leaving, I log on to voice chat with Bunnyluv and tell her about the club, warning her that my work buddies might try to hook me up while I’m there. She’s surprisingly understanding, all things considered.

​“It’s okay, baby. You go ahead and go. Live it up! No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you when you log back in.”

​“Are you sure? I’d feel like I was cheating on you.”

​Bunnyluv just giggles. “Neil, hon, if you don’t get yourself laid tonight, I’ll be disappointed. How else am I going to hear all the juicy details?”

​It hurts my feelings a bit that Bunnyluv won’t give me her real name. I mean, I sort of get it; it’s more dangerous for a woman to reveal her true identity online. But still … she knows I’m Neil Harrington, thirty-something quasi-virgin geek with glasses. If I’m willing to give her those details and more about my real life, why won’t she return the favor?

​Oh, the quasi-virgin part? Yeah … I kinda royally fucked up my first—and last—time at bat. I mean, there was penetration. I got a few strokes in. Then, well, the nerves took hold, and it all went to shit. Before I knew what was happening, she was picking her clothes up off the floor and booking it out of my studio apartment. I was left limp and lonely, and I never heard from the girl again. She blocked me on social media that same night, totally ghosted me.

​Bunnyluv, despite her social anxiety, has either watched enough porn to put on a good show, or she’s way more experienced than I am. That mouth of hers—good God! I swear I blush more with her than with anyone else. That woman can talk me into just about anything with that smooth yet husky voice of hers. It’s like liquid sex.

​That’s how I ended up with a Prince Albert. Yep. The quasi-virgin has a dick ring. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would—I was terrified of the pain—but Bunnyluv said she digs ‘em, so yeah, I went out and got one.

​Turns out the P.A. has some benefits. Like, I did not expect to enjoy the urethral stimulation, but once I was fully healed and cleared by the piercer for, er, “extracurricular” activity, I tried it out when I was home alone … and I got hooked. If it feels that good when it’s just me, myself, and I, I can only imagine what it’s like with a woman. What it’ll be like with Bunnyluv.

​It took some practice to figure out the toilet situation, though. Dear God, the messes I made at first! That was embarrassing. Thankfully I’ve got the hang of it now.

​“Hey, when does your Uber get there?” Bunnyluv’s voice pulls me back to reality.

​I glance at the clock in the corner of my screen. “I got about an hour. Plenty of time to chat a bit before I have to get ready.”

​“Mm … I have an idea.”

​Uh oh. Bunnyluv’s ideas usually fall on the raunchy side of life. If she’s thinking what I think she’s thinking …

​“C’mon, Neil. Let’s play a bit before you go.”

​I know what she means by “play.” That’s her code for cyber. “Bunny-honey, I’d love to, but I don’t know if we should. I’m nervous enough about tonight; getting me all worked up over voice chat might just make it worse once I’m out in the real world.”

​“Please, Neil?” I can hear her pout in the plea. “Let Bunnyluv get you off one more time before you snag a real-life girlfriend and disappear forever.”

​“You know that would never happen.”

​“Which part: the disappearing, or the girlfriend?” she teases.

​“Either.” I type out a code into the game’s chat box, and my avatar sticks his tongue out at Bunnyluv69. She retaliates with a shock emote, then her character starts to dance.

​Bunnyluv’s gotta be a coder of some sort. Again, she doesn’t give me many details of her personal life, but I know for a fact that Battlemages Unleashed doesn’t have any dance emotes like hers. This has to be a Bunnyluv original. Even for a Mature-rated game, there aren’t any strip tease dances programmed in.

​While her avatar gyrates and removes its gear piece by piece, Bunnyluv starts to murmur sweet nothings into her mic.

​“I wanna taste that cock, Neil. I want to wrap my lips around your head and lick that dick ring. While I’m sucking your cock, I want you to grab my hair. Take a fistful and pull. Make it sting, baby.”

​Damnit, she’s barely started, and I’m already hard. I unzip my pants and pull my dick out, stroking the shaft one-handed while I type out a dance command of my own.

​Bunnyluv’s not the only one here who can program cheat codes into the game.

​My avatar starts doing a Magic Mike-style dance, hips pumping to a rhythm I set in time with the game’s ambient music.

​“Oh, yeah, baby, thrust those hips. Fuck my face while I suck you off.”

​Since I don’t know what Bunnyluv looks like in real life, I make do by visualizing her avatar kneeling before me, blue eyes gazing up at me as she sucks my dick. Her character in-game has long, silver-blonde hair, a slim waist, and tits that I’d kill to ride. I know it’s all a fantasy, but I swear, I couldn’t care less what Bunnyluv really looks like. She could be a mousy geek with dull brown hair and thick glasses, and I’d still do whatever she wanted.

​I beat faster and faster as she keeps talking. Every lusty word sends me closer to the edge, and I’m grateful I have time for a shower when we’re done.

​“I hear you moaning, baby. I love the sounds you make while I swallow your dick down my throat. You make me so hot with that. I’m so wet and ready for you. I’m rubbing myself just thinking about your hard cock in my mouth.” She gives me a moan of her own, drawing out the sound. “You taste so fucking good. Neil, baby, come in my throat. Let me swallow it all down. Every last drop, like the good girl I am.”

​“Shit, Bunnyluv, I’m so close …”

​“Don’t hold back, baby. Come hard inside me. Just the thought of your hot cum shooting down the back of my throat has me about to burst … Let’s come together, Neil.”

​This is one of Bunnyluv’s favorite things: simultaneous climax. She’s gotten to where she can make me blow my load the second she starts screaming. Despite our distance, despite the fact that we’ve never even met, there’s something incredibly intimate about it. It’s like we’re sharing something special, something beautiful, almost religious.

​My hand slaps against my balls faster and faster, my breathing ragged, and on the other end of the chat Bunnyluv begins to shriek. The sound is enough to trigger me, and I come in several hot bursts. With careful aim, I make sure it all ends up on my shirt, rather than hitting my keyboard. The last thing I want is to have to deep clean my equipment because I couldn’t control my cum.

​Bunnyluv sighs, and I hear soft slurping in my headphones.

​“Mm … I love the taste of me, but I wish it could be you I’m licking.”

​I almost lose it again at the thought of her sucking her own cum off her fingers. “It could be if you’d let me in more. Give me your phone number, your address, your fucking name, just something real.”

​The silent pause is almost deafening. “I can’t, Neil. You wouldn’t understand.”

​“Try me! Listen, Bun, I care about you. You’re more than an avatar to me; you’re special. I wish you could see that.”

​“You should get ready for tonight. Clean up.” Her abrupt change of subject, along with the sadness in her tone, tells me I’m not getting anything else out of her tonight. When she shuts down, she shuts down for days. “Talk to you later, baby. Be safe tonight.”

​With that, she logs out and disconnects from the voice chat. I push back from the computer and stand up, stripping my stained shirt and heading for the bathroom. I need a cold shower after that.

​By the time I finally decide what to wear, the Uber driver is honking outside my apartment. I grab a jacket and rush down the stairs. I get to the parking lot just as the driver starts to back out of the spot he’d parked in. I frantically wave at him to get his attention, and he stops halfway out. Panting from the jog, I slip in the back seat and give him the address for Club Viper.

​I don’t know which is worse: having a driver that’s too chatty, or one who doesn’t say a word. The chatty drivers are annoying, but the silent ones like this guy give me the creeps. As if my nerves weren’t already on edge, now I have to sit back here with nothing but my own paranoid thoughts to keep me company. All I can do is worry about whether or not tonight is going to be a huge mistake.

​The driver drops me off at the front of the club, but the line to get in wraps around the block. I backtrack to the end and adjust my collar. I feel woefully underdressed in this crowd. Everyone’s got the latest hot clubwear on, from leather to vinyl to silk and satin, and everything that’s not laced up is buckled down.

​My black slacks and crisp, ironed button-down shirt seem ridiculous in comparison. The cheap blazer I have doesn’t improve the look. The damn bouncer’s gonna laugh his ass off before he kicks me to the curb.

​Just when I’m about to turn back and call for another ride home, my coworkers show up. They’re all dressed to the nines, just like the other clubgoers, and I could strangle them for not telling me what the dress code for this place is. Justin, our team lead, saves the day by handing me his leather jacket. The fit’s a little snug, but it’s better than waltzing in there looking like I’m about to go to a business meeting.

​Through some miracle, Justin talks the bouncer into letting me in despite my lack of flair. The burly man presses a rubber stamp to the back of my hand, but I don’t see anything there. It’s not until we’re inside, where UV lights illuminate the crowd, that I see the inked snake. It glows bright purple in the blacklights, the hood of the cobra flared as the serpent sits frozen mid-hiss.

​Well, at least I won’t have a big, black stain on the back of my hand to explain away at work tomorrow. Justin’s okay with the club life, but some of the higher-ups would rather we didn’t get ourselves into trouble.

​The thumping bass that was audible even outside the club is maddening inside. Throngs of dancers crowd the middle of the club, gyrating to the beat. Around the edge of the large, warehouse-like room are a series of small bartops. The longer bars have dancers on top of the counters, but there are a few that seem more inviting. By “more inviting” I mean “less packed.” I excuse myself from my group and make a beeline for the emptiest bar, hoping a stiff drink might take the edge off my nerves.

​I order a mojito and wait for the bartender to mix it. She hands me the drink, and I chug it back, wincing when I taste how strong she made it. Jesus Christ, I wasn’t planning on getting plastered five minutes into the night!

​Justin and the others catch up to me just as I’m handing my glass back to the barkeep. Caryl, another team member, laughs and slaps my shoulder. “All right, Neil! Take a load off, man. Cut loose for once in your life.”

​I roll my eyes and flick her off. “Fuck you, Caryl.”

​Justin puts an arm around my shoulders. “We didn’t bring you here to fuck Caryl, Neil, we brought you here to fuck a total stranger.” Everyone laughs, and I start to feel a bit queasy. I can’t tell if it’s the strong drink on an empty stomach or the fact that I suspect I’ve been conned into being the punch line of a group joke.

​As the night goes on, my discomfort grows. I try to drown it in booze, but all that does is get me wasted. Soon I’m wavering on my feet, my words coming out slow and slurred. Justin buys me another drink and takes my arm, guiding me across the crowded dance floor to a secluded section of the club. He points at a woman sitting alone in a corner booth. She’s stunning, petite, but there’s a lot of umph packed in that tiny body. Plenty of curves, plenty to grab hold of.

​Before I know what’s happening, Justin shoves me hard in the direction of her booth. I can’t hear what he shouts at me as I stumble towards her, but from the way he laughs at me, I doubt it’s anything good.

​I barely manage to catch myself on the edge of her table as my equilibrium spirals out of control. The woman gasps and flinches away from me, and I try to articulate what happened.

​“Try” being the operative word.

​“Sh-shorry missh. My buddy pushed me. ’M not a creeper. Jush’ a nerd.” I erupt in a fit of giggles at my own lousy joke. I lean over the table and wink at her as a sudden burst of confidence washes over me. “I program video gamesh for a livin’. Pretty shexy, huh?”

​The woman scoots to the far end of the booth and starts frantically tapping at her phone screen.

​“Aw, don’ be like that. ’M a good guy. Lemme buy you a drink to show you.”

​I don’t get a chance to buy her a drink. Right at that moment, a huge, beefy hand clamps down on my shoulder. Before I know what’s happening, the hand yanks me off my feet, tossing me onto the dance floor. I scramble to my knees, trying to get to my feet before I’m trampled but failing miserably as the world spins around me.

​I shouldn’t have worried about getting trampled; Beefy Hand isn’t done with me yet.

​The body attached to Beefy Hand is proportionately massive, and it moves towards me through the crowd with a grace that a body that big has no right having.

​He’s gotta be six seven, well over three hundred pounds of meat and muscle, all stuffed in a well-fitted suit. The whole look screams “bodyguard,” and I get the feeling the girl Justin pushed me towards wasn’t just some chick he chose at random.

​I start to suspect this whole night was a setup.

​The bodyguard hauls me up and drags me to a darkened back corner. I don’t even see the door before he shoves me through it. I land hard on my hip in a service hallway, skidding into the far wall. My glasses fly off and clatter away. I reach out to feel for them, but his wingtip stomps down on my hand. I scream, but it’s probably useless to cry out. No one’s going to hear me with all that club noise out there.

​Nobody hears the punches thrown. Nobody hears me shout in pain.

​Nobody but me hears the switchblade click open.

​As the bodyguard’s arm swings down with the blade aimed right for me, a flash of dull silver glints in the dim hallway lights. Not the knife; something bigger. Longer.

​Something that makes a sick, wet crack when it collides with the bodyguard’s head, with a hollow, metallic ringing that echoes after.

​The guy who beat the shit out of me falls to the floor, and my eyes trail up a pair of heeled leather boots, fishnet-covered legs, and enough leather, straps, and mesh to put any professional Domme to shame. The woman rests the baseball bat on her shoulder as she looks down at me, her pink and blue braids framing an oval face with the most amazing almond-shaped pink eyes. Topping it all off is a headband with a pair of black leather rabbit ears sticking up.

​“Bunnyluv?”

​Between the alcohol and the blows to the head, I think I’m hallucinating. There’s no way Bunnyluv came to my rescue. She never leaves her apartment. Besides, I don’t know what she looks like. It can’t really be her …

​She squats down next to me, tilting her head to the side. “You took quite a beating there, mister. I’m gonna get you out of here, get you stitched up.”

​“My glasses … Bunnyluv, baby, I can’t find my glasses …”

​Shit, I’m delirious. I don’t even know why my glasses fucking matter right now.

​“Dude, I don’t know why you’re calling me that.”

​She picks something off the floor and gives it to me. I take it in my good hand, and I realize she’s found my glasses. I put them on as best as I can one-handed. She’s even more beautiful when she’s in focus. Even with blood splattered all over her face.

​“There. Maybe now you won’t confuse me with someone else.”

​I try to shake my head but immediately realize what a mistake that is in my current state. My vision flickers, and I struggle to stay awake. “I—I’m sorry. I just saw the ears, and I thought you might be someone I knew.”

​Her smile is kind. “Tell you what? We’ll compromise. Drop the ‘love’ bit, okay? Just … call me Bunny.”

​I’d answer, but seconds later it’s lights out.

About The Author

AJ Mullican

AJ Mullican is a queer, neurospicy, multi-genre romance author who writes across a wide spectrum of tropes and romantic pairings. AJ loves love in all its varied forms, which is reflected in her writing. AJ firmly believes that “Variety in spice is life!” From “traditional” MF romance to queer and poly romantic pairings, throuples, quads (you get the idea!) there’s something for everyone in her work.

When she isn’t writing, AJ enjoys playing Final Fantasy XIV online and dabbling in sewing and resin crafting. She lives in southern Arizona with her husband and three cats, Rory, River, and Missy.

You can find AJ online at ajmullican.com