“Roxanne sold us out to the Aryans?” Snake growls. “That crazy fuckin’ bitch. I’m gonna string her skinny ass up,” he shouts.
He stands and begins to march toward his office. I hurry after him, but it’s Carson. Pregnant, covered in her man’s blood, that stops him in his tracks.
“You won’t touch her,” she announces. “None of you will. Roxanne wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t.”
“Step out of my way,” Snake growls.
Carson shakes her head. “No. Not until you cool down. Roxanne loves all of us, she would never hurt us, none of us. If she knew Melodie was part of the compound stuff, no way would she say anything. I know her,” she pleads.
Snake snorts. “Bitch, you didn’t know she was one step away from the goddamn nuthouse. You don’t know shit, little girl.”
Without a thought, I reach for Snake’s shoulder, grabbing ahold of him, I spin him around and clench my fist. Drawing back, before he can even blink, I smash my fist into his cheek. Not once, not twice, but five times before he falls to the ground. We end up on the floor, my thighs straddling his hips, and my fist colliding with his face over and over before I’m dragged away from him.
He moans, his head injury probably playing a huge factor in his inability to really fight back. I don’t give a fuck though, not a single goddamn fuck. “You don’t call Roxanne crazy. You don’t say shit about my woman,” I shout as my heels are being dragged through the bar.
Snake slowly stands to his feet, blood on his face, along with big red splotches from my fists. “I’m tellin’ it like it is, Houston. If you don’t like that shit, you know where the door is. That bitch is certifiable. It’s a fact, brother. Next time you raise a fist to me, be ready to eat my goddamn gun.”
He turns, walking away from me and toward his office. The men behind me don’t let me go. They keep their grips firm on my arms as I watch him walk away. He’s going to her, to my woman. If he thinks he’s going to touch a single hair on her head, I’ll slit him from gut to throat, no fucks if he’s my president or not.
Roxanne is mine.
By the time the men at my back are forced to release me, Snake has been in his office alone with Roxanne longer than I would prefer. I take off at a sprint, the men close behind me. I don’t even know who held me back or if they’re the same ones chasing me. I also don’t give a flying fuck. I have one thing and one thing only on my mind—my Firefly.
I suck in a breath when I finally walk into Snake’s office. I don’t know what I expect, but to see him sitting in a chair across from Roxanne, who is on the sofa is not what I thought I would be walking in on. His legs are spread, his elbows on his knees and his focus on her.
Roxanne is backed up against the corner of the sofa, her knees all the way against her chest, her eyes wild, but as focused as possible on Snake.
“You need to focus, babe. Tell me everything you know about her,” he urges, his voice calm and cool.
It’s as if his mood has shifted in just seconds from the angry fucker who was rolling around with me on the ground. I stand still, watching and listening. As long as he treats her with the respect that she deserves as my woman, then I won’t interrupt his questioning. I want the answers as well, because something happened. Someone came in here and fucked us all up, and I want to know who as badly as he does.
“She was married to a man on the compound. I don’t know if she believes in their racist stuff, but I know that she loved being there. She was given to the man when she was ten, he married her when she was fourteen. She’s brainwashed into thinking that it was love. I don’t know what she’s capable of. I swear I never told her anything about the Devils. She met Houston once, but I don’t think she noticed his cut, or maybe she did.”
Snake turns to me, lifting his brow. “I had no clue about any of this,” I point out.
“Who did she marry? What was her husband’s name? Does she know you’re here at the clubhouse?” He rattles off his questions and I can tell that Roxanne doesn’t like how quickly he’s firing them off. She shifts in her seat, her eyes moving from his to mine. I lift my chin, trying to be encouraging and giving her a small smile.
She frowns, looking at her knees, then lifts her gaze back up to Snake. “I was with Ice, I called her before I left the apartment though. I told her that I was going to stay with friends for a couple of days. She acted concerned, but not overly worried. She was more worried over me missing work.”
Frowning, I watch her, then look over to Snake. He nods once but keeps his gaze on hers. Why would this woman be so concerned with Roxie missing work? Shouldn’t she be more concerned with her safety? I don’t know much about bitches, from what I have seen with the Old Ladies around here, being safe and happy trumps anything else.
Snake doesn’t say anything in response. He stands, his gaze finding mine before he lifts his chin toward the door. Reluctantly, I follow him. He closes the door behind us when we walk out of the room, leaving Roxanne alone inside.
“I want that bitch, and I want her here,” he growls. “Whoever she is, she knows something.”
I let out a breath, shifting my gaze to my boots.
“We’re cool, Houston. I said shit I didn’t mean. Roxanne is a good person…” His words trail off. He doesn’t say the, despite being a crazy person, like I know he probably wants to.
“I’ll go and get her. I know her,” I offer.
Snake tilts his battered head to the side, his eyes searching my own. “Bring her to the warehouse, to me. I’ll be waiting.”
Without another word, he turns and walks away from me, away from Roxanne, too. I look back at the closed office door and contemplate what I’m going to do with her. Fuck. I can’t take her with me, but I can’t leave her here alone, either.
“I’m taking Carson to the hospital,” Skinner announces, breaking my internal thoughts about Roxanne. “She’s getting cleaned up right now, I think she’d like Roxie with her…”
Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through my hair and let out a breath. “You’ll protect her?” I ask. I don’t mean solely from the Aryans, I mean from everything, including herself and he knows it.
“I got your back, and hers.” His words are more than just words. They’re a vow, a promise to me and to Roxanne.
Turning away from him, I head toward Roxanne’s car. I’m going to bring that little bitch back here, drag her by her fucking hair if I have to. She is not going to get away with whatever plan she’s fucking hatched. I know it’s her, too. There is no way those Aryans just came in and shot up the clubhouse for no good reason. This and that phone call, they’re warnings. I’ll give those fucks a warning of my own.
ROXANNE
I’m alone. It’s better this way. Alone is better. It will always be better. To be alone, that is. I can feel my mind spinning, I’m rambling even to myself, my thoughts coming out faster than I can process. Closing my eyes, I attempt to inhale a deep breath before letting it out. Cleansing breaths, calm and clean, deep and with purpose, just like my therapist has taught me to do.
A throat clears, my eyes pop open and I’m immediately disappointed. It isn’t Houston that greets me, but instead, it’s Ice.
“Carson needs to get to the hospital, can you get yourself together enough to be there for her?” he asks.
His eyes search mine, and for a moment I’m insanely jealous. Traci has such a good man in him.
I bet he would leave her for you. Try to fuck him. He wants you. Look at him watch you.
Focusing on his gaze, I don’t even try to fight the voices. I should. I know deep down that they’re wrong. Ice loves Traci, and I wouldn’t ever want to hurt her. But he is a good man, and that’s what I want. Shaking my head, I bring my hands over my ears.
No.
I don’t want him. I have a good man that wants me, and all I’ve done is push him away. It isn’t fair to say that I want another. I don’t. I don’t want anyone. Not now. Not ever. Nobody.
“Roxanne,” his voi
ce says, it sounds concerned.
I don’t want him to be concerned, not over me. Opening my eyes, I move my hands from my ears and sigh in relief that I was able to fight the voices away, I don’t hear them anymore, at least for the moment.
“Ice,” I whisper, afraid to disturb them, those voices, they make me want to ruin lives. I hate them.
“Let’s go to the hospital. Keys is hurt, and Carson needs you,” he rumbles, holding his palm out for me.
Nodding, I take his offered hand. Standing, my legs shake. I don’t feel stable, in my own head or on my own feet. Releasing my hand from his, I follow behind him as he walks out of the office. I’m afraid to go into the bar area and am thankful when he guides me out of the back of the building instead of through the bloody massacre of the bar.
Slipping into the backseat of a car, I buckle my seatbelt, then lean my head back and close my eyes. Two car doors slam, then the vehicle is started and in silence, it begins to move forward. Unable to take a moment longer of the silence, I lift my head and open my eyes.
“Are you okay?” I ask, reaching for Carson’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.
She turns around, her eyes finding mine and my entire body fills with immediate sadness, and guilt. In my heart, I know that Melodie had something to do with this, and if she did, that means that I had a hand in it as well. If something happens to Ace, if he dies, then I’ll never forgive myself. Carson loves him irrevocably.
“I will be when Ace is,” she whispers.
My eyes water, I squeeze her shoulder a bit tighter. “He will be.”
“Okay,” she sighs, turning her head away from me to look out the windshield ahead of her.
She doesn’t believe me, or her own words. I don’t blame her. I don’t believe them either. My heart shatters at the thought of Ace not making it, of him leaving not only Carson, but her new baby, and sweet Axe.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck Fuck.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HOUSTON
Melodie walks down the street. She looks back behind her, and I’m curious as to why she seems so goddamn jittery. Moving down in my seat, I continue to keep my eyes on her, and alternately behind her as well. She walks into her apartment building, but I don’t move right away. There’s no backdoor to the building, so if she comes out, it will only be through the front.
Moving my gaze around the street, I catch a glimpse of something, or someone rather, that looks out of place. He’s dressed way too nice for this area of town. He isn’t scratching his arms or twitching, so he isn’t here looking to score.
Then, he stops in front of Roxie and Melodie’s building. He freezes, his hand on the door handle. His head moves from side to side before he yanks the door open and steps inside. I wait, counting to ten under my breath. Only then, do I exit my vehicle. Walking into the building, I take both of my guns out of their holsters, holding them both in my grip, loose but alert.
I don’t bother knocking on her door. I want to surprise them, it’s my only edge to this situation at the moment—the element of surprise. Lifting my foot, I kick the shitty door open. The jamb comes apart instantly. I snort, knowing that this place was built like shit, but a little surprised it’s built even worse than I’d imagined.
“What the motherfuck?” a voice growls.
Lifting my hands, I point one weapon at the man, the other at Melodie. “Well, well, well,” I tsk. “What do we have here?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
Melodie attempts to shuffle to the side, my eyes focus on her for a moment. “Keep your ass still,” I bark. She freezes. I glance between the two, unsure of what exactly I’m going to do with them. “Where’s the rest of your crew?” I ask the man.
His eyes shift to Melodie, then back to me. He has his hands in the air in a surrender pose, but I’m not fucking stupid. He would never surrender, not to anyone. He’d rather die. It’s just the way of their group, the way they are brainwashed.
Death before surrender.
I can respect that, however, I need him to not do anything stupid. I don’t have many contacts in this city, and I don’t want to shoot him right here in this building.
“They don’t know I’m here,” he says.
I’m not sure that I believe him, though right now I don’t have a choice. “Why’d they shoot up my clubhouse?” I ask.
He blanches, his face turning white at my question. He shakes his head. “We didn’t. No way in fuck,” his voice trembles.
“Someone did. Shot some of our men, and nothing more. All coincidence that my woman is roommates with Melodie here, and she has ties to your people?”
He gulps, it’s audible, the only noise in the room as I wait for one, or both, of them to speak. I’m patient. I have time. I’ll wait them out. They look at one another, then their gazes shift and both meet mine. Melodie doesn’t move, but her mouth opens, and she speaks.
“It wasn’t Brent,” she explains, tipping her head toward the man at her side. “I knew who Roxanne was tangled with. I knew who you were. Yeah, I told Brent, but that’s all.”
“And who the fuck did you tell, Brent?” I growl.
Brent’s eyes widen. “Nobody.”
“What the fuck are you two doing? None of this makes any goddamn sense.”
Brent takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “My father was the leader before Samuel Jones. My father was the one who brokered the original contracts with the Notorious Devils. He started the compounds, but the men who took him out of power, and who trickled into power after him, took shit too far. They were radicals, my father was not.”
“Your father didn’t broker a deal for grown men to fuck ten-year-old girls?” I ask, arching a brow.
Brent has the decency to flinch at my question, as he should. “It’s for good reason. But he didn’t kidnap women, not like Samuel and Zachary did. He never bought them. Women were sacred to my father, treated with respect and treasured as the mothers of the race. What they did was vile.”
I don’t mention that men fucking children is vile. Brent wouldn’t think so, he was raised to believe that it’s okay. That it’s normal. I shake my head at the thought, my stomach twisting.
“You still haven’t answered my question, what are you two up to?” I ask, not wishing to think on the subject another moment longer.
Melodie smiles, it’s soft and almost genuine. “We want to start our own compound with the true believers. Not the power-hungry men that took over. We want to go back to basics, together,” she says.
“Fuck,” I snort. “You really didn’t tell anyone about us.” It’s a statement, not a question. If they didn’t tell anyone about us, who the fuck attacked the clubhouse, and what was their goddamn purpose?
“We didn’t. I just want my life back,” Melodie smiles, taking a step toward Brent’s side. I watch as they link hands, the action would be romantic maybe, if I didn’t know that they were both sick in the fucking head.
Letting out a sigh, I don’t know what to do with them. Taking them back to the clubhouse doesn’t seem like the right decision. Though, I’m not sure leaving them here would be either. Frowning, I look between them, then make my decision.
“Give me your phones,” I demand.
They quickly do as I ask. I shove them in my pockets. “You leave town. Both of you go somewhere, anywhere as long as it’s fucking far away from here. I never want to even hear your names whispered again. If I do, I’ll kill you. If I find anything on these phones that indicate you’re lying to me, I’ll kill you. If I even suspect you’ve fucked me, I’ll kill you. Get it?” I ask.
They both nod. Brent clears his throat, my eyes shift over to him. “Whoever is hurt, I’ll pray for them. I may think that my race is above all others, however, I don’t want any innocents to die,” he whispers.
“Liar. Don’t try to paint yourself as some good man. I know it’s bullshit. You see a man that’s not white walking down the street and the last thing that pops in your head is that
you want to pray for him. Don’t feed me that goddamn bullshit,” I growl.
He blinks, his face going slack. "You know what? I'll probably kill you both anyway, I'm so sick of the shit your group has put us through. So goddamn sick of it." Without another thought, I pull each of my triggers. I watch the two of them fall to their knees, then onto the floor. Simultaneously.
I have no doubt that the police will be here in just a few moments. I fucked up. Seriously fucked up, but I couldn’t let them go, and bringing them to the clubhouse to be tortured wasn’t fair either. Fuck. Taking my phone out my back pocket, I find my contacts and make a call.
“Where the fuck are you?” the voice barks.
“Got a problem. Two dead bodies I need to dump, and cops I need to avoid. Any idea how to do that?” I ask.
“You’re a pain in the fucking ass,” he growls. “Stay there. Don’t open the door to anyone not wearing a cut.”
Snake ends the call. I sit down on the sofa, thankful that the blood and brains from the two racists didn’t spray onto the fabric. I can’t sit for long, my legs unable to stay still. Deciding to stand, I make my way into Roxie’s room.
I look for anything that is personal of hers. I have a feeling that she won’t be coming back here. Even if she doesn’t want me, I highly doubt she’ll be able to stay in this place on her own without a roommate to share the bills. Besides, she wants to go to beauty school, and she fucking should do everything that she wants in this life. She deserves it, everything, she deserves everything.
ROXANNE
Carson’s fingers tighten in my grasp. There are men all around us waiting to hear the news on Ace. He’s in surgery, that’s all we know. I’m thankful that Carson has her family here, surrounding her, because God knows I’m a shitty excuse for support. All I can seem to do is hold her hand. I have no words of encouragement, no high hopes.
Twisted with Chaos: A CASH BAR NOVEL Page 10
