by Forgy, M. N.
“You broke someone’s nose?” Jillian finally asks, and I shrug sheepishly.
“Dolly’s to be exact,” Carola clarifies.
Jillian looks to Carola and they begin to laugh in unison as if they are good friends. Feeling out of place, and needing a change of clothes I rub my hand up and down my arms.
“I should be going, I work today,” I inform Jillian.
“Oh,” she seems displeased. “Well, I can have someone escort you—”
“Not necessary. I’ll be fine,” I interject, needing some space from all of this. She gives me a scolding look, and I sigh heavily. Jillian has really taken to the club, and I’m happy for her but I’m not a club member and feel very out of place here.
“Look honey, you think Zeek protects everyone? That he sends one of his guys to babysit a cop that isn’t even one of his member’s ol’ lady? Because he doesn’t.” She shakes her head, her thick brows narrowed with disappointment. “You must have done something to earn that respect, now accept it and stop being a bitch,” she snaps, and my chest rises with anger.
“That’s just the thing, I haven’t done anything to deserve it,” I retort.
“You’re my family and that is good enough,” Jillian states with hard eyes. Carola points a sharp finger at her.
“There ya go. Family is the biggest bond, and that is something Zeek is trying to pound into his men’s code,” Carola adds.
Biting my lip nervously, I take in what she’s said. I know Zeek is trying to strengthen the brotherhood of his club since he’s taken over fully, and I think that’s a great thing. However, he’s still a criminal and unpredictable. He is the wolf and the fucking leader of the pack. Jillian may trust him, but I don’t.
“After work, I will grab some clothes, and check on my mom and be back here,” I reply curtly. “I’ll make sure Raven or someone is with me if it makes you happy to know that I’m not alone,” I continue.
“It does actually,” Jillian replies over the rim of her coffee cup. “I don’t need one of your boyfriend’s men to tail me,” I add, and Jillian scoffs. She’s changed, she used to be nothing but a feeble, follow the rules, sheriff. She is darker now, more courage than what is good for her.
Carola pulls a gun out and slides it across the bar, my gun to be exact.
“How’d you get this?” I ask grabbing it.
“Felix said you’d need it,” she shrugs.
“I knew I should have brought my flash-bang gun,” I mutter. The element of surprise would have had them by the balls.
“You have one of those?” Jillian asks with excitement.
“You don’t?” I ask with surprise. Jillian has everything when it comes to carrying a weapon, so I thought.
“A what?” Carola snaps, a look of confusion on her face.
“It’s a bra you wear that holsters a gun. You go to flash a guy and bam!” I use my finger and thumb to imitate a gun going off, winking in the process. I’ve never got to use mine, and am itching to.
“Well I’ll be,” Carola mumbles in amazement. “I guess it’s better than hiding it in your hooch.” She shrugs, and Jillian eyes her with wide eyes. The girls that run around here, it wouldn’t surprise me what comes out of their hooch. “Anyway, one of the men will collect your mom tonight,” she informs casually, and my eyes widen. This is news to me, and surely a fucking mistake.
“Here? They’re bringing her here?” I point to the floor, my eyes wide as saucers.
“Yeah, I could use some help now that I’m helping Jillian, she’ll be safe,” Carola informs. My eyes fall to Jillian, my mouth wide.
“Was this your idea?”
Jillian shrugs, patting Samuel’s back.
“I think it’s a really good idea. Your mom will love it.”
“My mom is not well, you know that. She will have no idea where she is.” My voice comes off more serious than I intend.
“Then there’s no problem,” Carola clips. I roll my eyes, sliding my gun into my waistband. Unbelievable. Is everyone around here so pushy and controlling?
“See ya tonight,” Jillian show-tunes.
“Whatever,” I huff. I’ve lost my best friend to the outlaws. It’s official.
Felix
Pulling up to the Lost Bastards’ club we keep the engines running on our motorcycles. Two men are standing outside smoking a cigarette, eyeing us like they’re confused. Probably prospects, out of the loop of club business and who their enemy is right about now. The building is made up of worn stucco, and the front door is wide open. A cheap black vinyl banner hangs above the front door displaying the club colors proudly. Glancing at Zeek, I give him the nod, portraying let’s do this. Opening my cut, I pull out my AK 47 and like the rest of the boys, we return the decorating favor and spray bullets into their building.
The two men drop to the ground, crawling to cover as we relentlessly empty our clips.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Someone waves a blue bandana from a broken window in an attempt to surrender. I can’t help but laugh, what do they think this is? The wild west?
Zeek holds his hand up, halting us from replacing our clips and continuing lighting their ass up. Hands up in the air, no other than Apollo walks out of the front door idiotically unarmed. He’s much older than any of our guys. White hair peeks out from under his bandana wrapped around his head that is stained with sweat. Deep wrinkles frame his eye, and mouth, and his white beard gives Santa a run for his game.
“You got three seconds to explain why you attacked my club before I pump a bullet in your skull,” Zeek threatens.
“Look man, it wasn’t personal it was just business,” Apollo states, like that makes up for everything.
“Waking my men up with a drive-by is about as fucking personal as it gets.” Zeek tilts his head to the side, his tone edging on irritated.
“Not to mention your weak ass intimidation tactics of spooking his ol’ lady,” I counter, it had to be one of them who drove by Jillian and Zeek’s house.
“Whoa, that wasn’t us.” He points at me. “I admit, we initiated war with the drive-by, but we didn’t stalk down no one’s ol’ lady,” he snorts.
Aiming my gun, finger heavy on the trigger I smirk. “Well, welcome to war with the Outlaws, bitch,” I sneer, and lay into the trigger. Zeek and the rest of the men follow suit, firing their weapons. Bodies drop to the ground like flies, the smell of gunpowder and blood thick in the air. Return fire nearly misses us as the Bastards shoot over their shoulder as they run for their life. After the area is cleared of either men who took cover or are dead, we lower our guns.
Coughing up blood Apollo lies on the ground holding his side that is obviously wounded. None of his men running to his aid tells me how much of a club this bullshit MC really is. Turning my bike off, I put it on the kickstand and walk over to Apollo, Zeek in tow.
Placing my weapon in my holster, I pull out my buck knife and kneel down.
“This is our retaliation, it won’t be easy, it won’t be fair, and it won’t be quick.” I place the blade to his neck and his eyes widen.
“Please, let’s make a deal,” he begs, tears filling his eyes. His hands flinging everywhere to keep me away. Machete grabs his arms and pins them down like something in WWE.
“We only make deals with clubs we recognize, and your bullshit fly by night Boy Scout group is not one,” I clip. He wants to play the sinner, but can’t handle the monsters that linger in the same hell. He’s a fucking poser, who is about to give this city a wake-up call. We are the alpha club, we own this city and have earned it through blood and respect. We will continue to do that, no matter how deep we dig our graves.
“You have someone much higher than you wanting you wiped from Las Vegas, and when that deed is accomplished, I’ll meet you in hell,” he coughs before spitting blood in my face. Aw, the anger stage when the victim finally realizes he’s not talking his way out.
“Save me a seat,” I sneer, fisting my knife.
“Do it,” Zeek o
rders the kill.
I slide the blade across his neck before impaling it in his throat and twisting it, his body goes three shades lighter instantly as his life drains on the desert floor. I feel nothing as I take his life. My heart doesn’t skip a beat, and my conscious doesn’t come to the surface. This is what I was raised to do, protect my club, my president. I’ve lost count of the souls I’ve taken to make my club what it is today. I’ve accepted my darkness and the monster that I’ve been claimed to be.
Machete howls like a fucking wolf as Apollo pales, his eyes going still.
A couple of motorcycles roar to life grabbing our attention, and jets off into the desert. Machete and Gatz fire their guns in the direction of the running cowards, but they don’t hit their target.
“Want me to go after them?” I ask.
Zeek shakes his head. “No, let the word get out that we’re not going anywhere.”
Alessandra
“We got a 425, caller wasn’t sure what she saw, could have been a 413.” The dispatch displays. Raven gives me an awkward eye, obviously not sure what the hell the codes mean.
“Possible gun, the witness isn’t sure what she heard.”
“731, on our way.”
“Copy that.”
I head toward the outskirts of town. The location on the MDT indicating that the situation is almost out of my jurisdiction. If Jillian were still on the job, she’d race me to it.
“You okay? You look tired,” Raven observes.
“Slept at a… friend’s place and didn’t sleep well,” I mutter, narrowing my brows. I hate how observant she is all of the time. “I’m fine.” I lift my chin trying to appear unaffected, but I am exhausted.
“I’m sure you are, you’re tough,” she smiles, before turning to look out the window.
What the fuck does that mean? She doesn’t know me.
Pulling up to the scene I instantly notice the motorcycles. Coming to a complete stop, my heart skips a beat at what the hell I just pulled up on.
“What? What is it?” Raven asks, trying to sit up in her seat to look over the hill.
“Stay here,” I order. Undoing my seat belt I notice Raven does the same. “I said fucking stay put!” I point at her, my tone sharp. Her face goes stoic, and she sits back in her seat with a frown.
Closing my door, I head over the hill to get a better look. My shaky hand on my gun, boots thudding against the asphalt I come face to face with a fucking massacre. The building of the Lost Bastards, a graveyard. Sweat drips down my back as I lose my breath. They are bodies everywhere, the smell of bullets and death thick.
One of the Outlaws turns and familiar cold eyes find mine. His hair is in a bun, his leather cut displaying his club’s colors. The Sin City Outlaws. Felix pulls a cigarette away from his mouth with bloody hands as he watches me, blowing smoke into the wind. He doesn’t seem afraid of me, or concerned at what I’m witnessing. He looks like a beautifully broken savage in blood in leather.
Looking at the blood bath, I suddenly realize this is the club of the Lost Bastards. I did this. I gave Felix the missing puzzle piece to complete his masterpiece of anarchy.
Looking away, I think of my options. I could call this in and for once, The Outlaws have been caught in their game and they could go away for life. I glance back, noticing Zeek talking to one of his men, completely oblivious to me being here. If I turn it in, what does that mean for Jillian and the kids? What does that mean for me if I arrest the man I need Intel from?
Grabbing my radio on my shoulder, I lean toward it.
“731, there- there is nothing here,” I choke on my words, my stomach knotting with alarm at what the fuck I’m doing.
“731, copy that.”
Turning away from the scene I head back to my cruiser, my eyes glossy, as I want to cry. My legs feel like weights, and my hands are trembling. My chest feels cold, and I feel like I may vomit any second with what I just did.
“Alessandra!” Felix hollers after me. I don’t turn back, I keep my head down and pick up my pace. “Fucking stop!” Felix barks, grabbing my arm and whipping me around to face him.
His wild eyes search mine as the wind wraps around me like a vise, sending a shiver up my spine. His hair is beautiful and spotted with blood, his hands stained with another’s life.
“What are you doing here?” he asks gravelly. Swallowing hard I look past him, none of his men looking in our direction.
“I’m not here,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
“I just want to make something clear. You weren’t here and you saw nothing—”
My head whips in his direction.
“Or what?” I bite out and he steps into my space. His hard stare looking down at me as I glare up at him.
“You get in that fucking car and call this in, they will kill you, do you understand?” he states so seriously my heart skips a beat.
“Why do you care?” I tilt my head to the side. If they kill me, he’d be off babysitting duty.
“Because, they’d send me to do it and I don’t want—” He looks away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His face is hard, his eyes looking above me.
“Don’t want to what?” I push.
“Don’t be stupid,” he mutters before his sight falls onto mine.
Closing my eyes, I lower my head. “Too late,” I whisper. I’ve already done so much stupid shit that there’s no turning back.
“We both have issues Alessandra, but if you do something stupid like try and take us down I’ll have to kill you and… that is an issue for me,” he points at himself. I scoff, not sure what he means by that.
Opening my eyes, Felix’s lips crash against mine, and a buzz of electricity zips through my body as I sway into him. Lost in the world of a convict I almost forget all the death around us until the smell of blood wafts around us mixed with grains of the empty desert. I’m a cop, he’d kill me because that is his code and I need to remind myself of that line. Sinking my teeth into his bottom lip, I bite down hard. He winces and pulls back. Blood drips from his lip as he glares at me with beautifully damaged eyes. His blood stained thumb swiping at his lip I just nailed with my teeth.
“So you like it rough?” he raises a brow, his voice full of arrogance. Rolling my eyes, I turn to walk away, and he smashes his lips to mine again. Brows furrowed I push him hard, and he chuckles at my reaction. Rage fills my chest, this is all just a fucking game to him.
“Don’t do something stupid, Alessandra,” he hollers, and I raise my hand and flip him off as I continue my walk over the hill back to my cruiser. My heart jackhammers against my chest, my lips tingling where he kissed me. My panties damp from the desire throbbing deep in my core.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep my guard up.
The desire to have his beard between my legs is overpowering my badge.
Hands sweaty, mouth dry, I walk away from the biggest bust of not only my career but also the station’s.
Climbing inside Raven looks at me with wide eyes.
“Well, what was it?”
“Nothing,” I reply softly, sniffling in the snot threatening to drip from my nose I avoid looking at her. Doing a U-turn in the road I head back to the city, avoiding eye contact with Raven the whole time.
We have a saying in my line of work. The criminals are the wolves, the citizens the sheep, and us law enforcement, are the sheep dogs.
My soul was just ripped from my chest by a fucking wolf, and I’ll never be the same again.
“You have something,” Raven points at my mouth, her brows furrowed. Pulling down my visor I notice blood staining my upper lip. Using the back of my hand I wipe at Felix’s blood. His DNA claiming me, marking me and poisoning me all at the same time.
“Nothing, my lips are chapped. The desert and all,” I shrug, slamming the visor shut.
Felix
“What was that?” Mac asks, noticing Alessandra pull away in her cruiser. The red plastic container containing gasoline in hand.
I’m not sure what all he just saw, so I shrug and light a cigarette instead of answering him right away. I don’t know what compelled me to fucking kiss her but the sting in my lip has my dick harder than a brick, and my gut twisted with guilt that I’m betraying my brotherhood.
“Alessandra,” I growl, wiping at my lip to make sure there’s no more blood.
“She going to be a problem?” he looks at me with a sideways glance.
“Nah,” I shake my head, eyeing the dry blood on my fingernails.
Flicking my cigarette into the wind, I blow smoke into the air. It lands on a trail of gas leading a path around each of the bodies and into the clubhouse.
“I need you to do some digging for me,” I state, not ask.
“What’s up?”
“Look into an officer Brock Lucas. He was killed on the job and I want to know if there was some shady shit going down.”
“You got it,” Mac pats my back, heading back to the SUV. No doubt hitting up his laptop. He loves shit like this, hacking and finding pieces of crap nobody wants anyone to find. He lives for the personal challenge, and arrogantly admits no firewall will keep him out.
“We’re done here, let’s get before we’re seen,” Zeek orders, the clubhouse now in full flame.
Black smoke dances into the sky, the fire hot and killing any of our DNA.
“Too late,” I whisper, looking in the direction of where Alessandra was last.
* * *
Sitting at the counter nursing a beer, I scratch at the blood under my nails. Replaying everything that happened today. Will clubs back off knowing we can handle our shit without the mafia? Will Alessandra talk about what she saw?
“Hey, I got some information on that officer,” Mac says excitedly as he slides up next to me.
Not sure if Jillian is around I stand and head to the room we have church in, Mac following.
“First off, there are no birth records for Alessandra Lucas, so I looked into the adoption agencies only to find her dad is not her real dad. Brock’s record with the department has many write-ups as he didn’t follow the rulebook. As for the day he died,” Mac shakes his head. “I couldn’t find shit, not even the name of the suspect that was shot. Someone didn’t want anyone to find this shit man. His partner’s statement doesn’t match what happened at the scene,” Mac explains with a conflicted look.
