by Forgy, M. N.
“So he wasn’t shot?”
“I don’t know, his partner is the only one that knows,” Mac continues.
“So we need to find the partner that disappeared.” I take a sip of my beer.
“Two steps ahead of you,” Mac says, typing into his computer before turning the screen around. Looks like he’s residing in the ghetto about an hour from here.
“You up for a little ride?” I ask.
“We ain’t looking for trouble, man,” Mac shakes his head. “Just information.”
I laugh, setting my beer down. “Well that’s no fun.” I’m always looking for trouble, the adrenaline rush is what guides me through my darkest days.
Zeek struts into the chapel with white shit on his shoulder. Mac jumps out of his seat pointing at him.
“What the fuck is that?”
Zeek looks down, before brushing it off like it’s nothing.
“Puke… I think,” Zeek mumbles.
“Looks like bird shit,” I silently laugh.
“Or like you just jerked off and couldn’t find your load!” Mac raises a brow, keeping a safe distance from Zeek.
“There is something seriously wrong with you.” I tilt my beer toward Mac.
“I need to get my hands dirty, go for a ride or something. This domestic shit is starting to get to me,” Zeek groans.
“Well you’re in the right place because I’m looking for a little trouble,” I smile with a shit-eating grin.
Chapter 5
Felix
Driving to the address Mac gave us, we end up in the ghetto. It’s a shitty neighborhood for a retired cop.
We pull up to a house that is missing siding, has a broken window at the very top, and shingles are missing from the roof. There’s a black Buick in the driveway that is chipped and has tape holding plastic over the back window.
“You sure this is the address?” I ask pulling my helmet off. My hair gets caught in it and I have to untangle it. I swear I should cut this shit, but the chicks seem to love it.
“Yeah, this is it,” Mac replies confidently.
Throwing my leg over my seat I notice the neighbors eyeing us suspiciously. They look like crack heads. Skinny, thin dull hair, and dark bags under their eyes. Their house matches Kelly’s in upkeep. I jut my chin at them, and they look away quickly. Respect, it feels good.
Machete knocks on the front door, and nobody answers. He knocks again and I notice the curtain move in the bay window located at the front of the house.
“He’s in there,” I state.
“Kelly?” Zeek shouts. “We need to talk.”
Suddenly a bullet clips through the front door, snagging Machete in the arm. He hisses, grabbing at the bloody wound.
Not fucking around, I kick the door open. It slams into Kelly knocking him on his ass, his gun skidding along the dirty floor.
He reaches for the gun, and I slam my boot into his face as hard as I can. Busting his nose, I can feel the crack beneath my foot.
Zeek grabs the gun, and Machete stomps into the house and grabs Kelly by the stained shirt before laying a series of punches to his face. His strength more than he knows, he’s about to kill the motherfucker.
“Easy brother, we still need him alive for information.” I try and hold him back. Machete is a machine that can’t be controlled unless he wants to be controlled.
Machete breathes heavily, eyeing Kelly like dinner before tossing his limp body to the dirty floor. Machete wipes the blood from his arm, and smears it across Kelly’s face. Kelly cringes, his face painted like something from an Indian movie as it marks under his eyes and forehead.
Machete growls, holding his arm as he glares at a whimpering Kelly.
Kelly wipes his face of the blood, scooting to his ass. His eyes are wide with fear, his bottom lip trembling as blood slips from the bridge of his nose down his chin.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” I imply, tilting my head to the side.
“You guys. It was you guys who did this to me!” he sobs, and I furrow my brows in confusion.
“What? Broke your nose?” I shrug. “Because you kind of had that coming with your shitty hospitality.” It smells like body odor and pizza in, the house has no lights and looks trashed.
“It was your kind that took my partner from me!” He points with a shaky hand. “You took my life!” he continues hysterically.
Zeek grabs a chair from the table and sits in it casually, and Mac raids the man’s kitchen like he normally does. I swear Mac is a bottomless pit when it comes to eating.
“Tell us what you know about Alessandra and her father,” Zeek demands with a no bullshit tone.
Kelly sits up straighter, sniffling in blood, his eyes watering from the pain. His hair is greasy and unruly, his beard outgrown and disgusting. He looks like a bum.
“What about them?” he replies vaguely.
Having enough of the games, I raise my gun to his head, the chamber clicking.
“I’m about three seconds from blowing your fucking brains out if you don’t tell me what I want to know!” I threaten. I can feel Zeek staring at me, knowing he’s not impressed with my impatience or attitude.
“Okay! Okay!” Kelly raises his hands, his body stiff as I might pull the trigger any moment.
“Brock found her in this place held underground. There were fifteen kids of all ages and genders. Investigators conveyed the missing children were taken from tourists and used for training purposes. Take a kid, train them to fight and kill,” he explains. “It was The Sin City Outlaws little army if you ask me!” he spits, and I snarl with that inaccurate assumption.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Zeek sneers.
“Cross! He was in charge of the whole operation, and everyone knew it!” Kelly informs with a shaky voice.
I glance at Zeek with wide eyes, this is news to us that Cross was running an underground operation like that. “We found parents to several of the kids, but a few of them didn’t know their names, hell, they didn’t even know their birthdays they were taken so young. Alessandra was one of the ones who didn’t know anything about herself. Told Brock her name was Brown 5.” He begins to laugh hysterically, and it unnerves me. “She didn’t know her name, but knew how to break someone’s neck, and shoot a gun at age five. How ironic,” he snorts.
“Jesus Christ,” Zeek mumbles, rubbing his chin.
“Cross was of course cleared of all charges because none of the kids actually saw him, just heard his name. We had one witness, but they went missing, and so Cross walked free, nobody was fucking charged for what happened to those kids!” Kelly begins to cry, his back and forth of emotions telling me he might be high.
“What happened to Brock?” I ask, biting my inner cheek.
“Cross found out that Brock adopted one of his prodigies. Brock’s dying wish was that Cross let Alessandra go and Cross said she was tainted goods anyway and ended his life right in front of me before killing one of his own men to cover it up. He was going to kill me but I ran, and I’ve been hiding ever since.” The man looks up at us with sad eyes. Tears slip from his eyes, but I’m unmoved. “I’m a coward,” he wails before grabbing the barrel of my gun and pressing his temple into it. “Just kill me!” he spits through gritted teeth.
I jerk my gun from his head and grab him by the hair making him look me in the eyes.
“The Sin City Outlaws were not a part of that charade, I assure you,” I tell him before tossing him back on his ass.
“You’re going to want to see this, brother,” Mac states to no one in particular from another room, his voice laced with shock. My gut twists, not liking the sound of this.
“Keep an eye on him,” I tell Machete, and follow Zeek and Mac into the living room. The couch is covered in plastic, and the coffee table is littered with crack and foils.
On the wall are pictures of Alessandra of all ages, plastered like a collage of a serial killer’s wet dream. Her at the gym, park, with Jillian, and us. It’s
stalking to a whole other level.
“This is some sick shit,” Zeek mutters, pulling one of the photos of Jillian and Alessandra down. They’re laughing together at what looks like a diner.
Right in the middle of all the photos, is one of a little brown haired girl and man in a cop uniform. Alessandra’s dad I presume. Pulling it from the wall, I stuff it in my cut.
My spine feels stiff, my stomach sick. Striding into the hallway, I eye Kelly who has obviously gone off the deep end. PTSD, or some shit. My hands flex with an unknown urge I can’t pinpoint. Jealousy? Rage? I don’t like that he has been watching her without her knowing. Some of those photos were of her dressing, and I know she’s not mine but knowing what I do, I feel like I know her more than she knows herself. I have a responsibility to keep her safe now.
“Stay away from Alessandra,” I warn him. Head lowered, eyes hooded I silently tell him the pain I will inflict him if he so much as looks her way. He shakes his head, sniffling and rocking back and forth.
“No, she needs my protection, especially from you! Your kind ruined her life, and mine, remember!” he shouts, a blood vassal protruding from his forehead. “She needs protection from herself,” he mumbles, before pulling at his hair and rocking like a madman.
Alessandra isn’t as innocent as anyone thinks, she’s a darker breed and I’m wanting to get to know her more and more with every piece to her puzzle I find out.
“He’s fucking lost it, and a liability,” I tell everyone. Pulling my gun from my holster I point it at him and fire a bullet right into his skull. Blood and brain matter paint the wall behind him as his head falls to his chest.
“Goddamn it, Felix,” Zeek scorns me.
“Needed to be done,” I insist, tucking my gun in my pocket. If anyone was a danger to Alessandra it was him, and I’ll be damned if anyone stands in my way of Alessandra. If I want her, I will have her.
“We need to get out of here, and fast,” Mac insists, looking out the window.
“Machete, make sure the neighbors are aware they didn’t see shit,” Zeek orders, his tone indicating the bodies will pile up if they say a word. “Clean that blood off his face with bleach too, last thing we need is fucking DNA on the body,” Zeek scorns.
“I’ll just torch the place.” Machete shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Fucking fire bug,” Zeek shakes his head.
Stepping out of the house I inhale a sharp breath. The smell of the air is mixed of gunpowder and metallic.
Why did I kill him? Why do I care?
The questions run through my head like a bad memory.
Taking one step at a time down the porch I can’t help but want to protect Alessandra now. It was an obligation at first, and now my priority.
It’s no wonder I’m attracted to Alessandra, she doesn’t have blue blood running through her like she thinks. She’s much darker, and our inner beasts are speaking to one another without us even knowing it. It all makes sense now.
Knowing the information I do, there is no stopping me from taking what I want.
Alessandra
Driving to my house, I hear the familiar sound of a motorcycle. Slamming the driver side door shut Felix pulls into my driveway and cuts the engine.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Taking you back to the club. Where you belong.” He raises a challenging brow. Jesus, they just won’t give up will they.
“Don’t you think this is a little ridiculous, nobody is coming after me.” I look around the block to indicate my point. It’s empty, and as pristine as the Brady Bunch.
“Just following orders, sweetheart,” he smarts, and I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, you look like a rule-following kind of guy,” I mumble low enough he can’t hear me.
Turning on my heel I head inside the house.
“Ma?” Nobody answers. I wonder if they already came and got her?
The door shuts behind me and Felix stands there. His eyes are darker than normal, his stare unfamiliar. His big shoulders flex as he crosses his arms, his stance wide. He takes up my whole living room, and looks powerful. I’ve never brought a man home before, not that I invited this one.
“Get your shit,” he orders. “I ain’t got all day.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
Pete571 runs into the room with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and ears flopping. He’s excited to see me, and is running at full speed.
“Whoa!” Felix tenses, pulling his gun out and aiming at Pete. The way he holds his gun, the look on his face I instantly have to clench my thighs to stifle the throbbing. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he handles his gun.
Out of instinct, I step in front of his aim, my hands raised.
“NO!”
Felix flicks his gaze to me before back at the dog. “Put the gun down, he’s just a dog!” I demand. My arms raised in the air I take notice of how Felix’s eyes rake down my body slowly, it does things to me.
“Not just a dog, these motherfuckers eat my kind. They’re fucking fur-missiles,” he insists. Lowering his gun, he raises his pant leg and a set of teeth marks scar his calf. I laugh, bending down to pick up my dog. I still need to find a name for him besides Pete571. He won’t be a department issued dog, he will be my family.
“Well, you know they’re just teaching idiots not to run one bite at a time,” I wink, trying my hardest not to laugh at Felix and his fear of German Shepherds.
“Not funny,” he sneers. But it is.
Setting Pete571 down, I go pack a small bag. Making sure to grab clean clothes and my toothbrush.
“Did you find anything out about my dad?” I ask lightly.
“Um, I’m still looking into it, but I can say he’s not your dad,” Felix tells me.
“I already know that part,” I inform with a deep sigh, hearing it confirmed doesn’t make it sit any easier though. I wonder how my dad would have told me. How I became his? There’s a lot of questions I want to ask him and can’t.
Scooping up Pete571, I bite back my emotions.
“I’m ready.”
Felix looks at me with a cold expression.
“That dog is not coming to my club.”
I raise a brow.
“If he doesn’t, then I don’t.”
Riding on the back of the motorcycle, my bag is tied to the back, and Pete571 is in my lap. His face is in the wind, and wet tongue hanging out. If I wouldn’t know any better, I’d say he has a little biker in him.
Felix shifts between my thighs, reminding me of his strong body between my legs, and my heart bucks at the same time my sex pulses with need. My hands want to run across his back, and up his strong shoulders. To feel his lips against my ear, and his hand in my hair. I wonder if he’s a gentle lover, or a ravaging one. Taking every breath with a bite of pain, or caressing and caring. Closing my eyes, I try to control my body’s reaction to this man, my shaded thoughts that run rampant. It’s no use though. Felix makes me vulnerable when he’s near, making a part of myself I knew was there but masked, rise like a welcomed demon. I can’t defend myself against what’s inside of me around Felix and that scares me. All of this scares me. Whatever it is.
Arriving at the clubhouse, Felix parks his bike, and helps me off. The way his eyes rake me from top to bottom doesn’t go unnoticed. My skin prickles beneath his intrusive stare. Looking deep in his eyes you can tell he’s lethal and dangerous, but it’s laced with something softer than before. Tilting my head to the side I wonder what’s changed. There’s something there that wasn’t there before in the way he looks at me.
Tearing his gaze from mine, he grabs my bag and throws it over his shoulder before strutting toward the clubhouse without a word. Pete571 in my hands I follow in tow. Walking in the clubhouse Jillian’s eyes light up at the dog. She runs over to it and instantly squishes his face.
“Oh my God, where did you get him?” she coos.
“Um, he was in the bloodline of my father’s K9,” I tell h
er softly. Her eyes lift to mine in knowing. I look away, not liking the vulnerability I suddenly feel.
“Where are the babies?” I ask, noticing I don’t hear a screaming child.
“They’re down for the night,” she explains with relief.
“What the hell is that?” Machete asks, stepping toward me. He’s such big man he could play for the NFL. A fucking lumberjack at best. His red hair is everywhere, his piercing eyes laid right on Pete571. Maybe bringing him wasn’t the best idea.
“A dog,” I clip.
Machete looks at me before Pete. Then a big smile breaks his serial killer look as he pets his brown fur.
“Never been up close to a German Shepard that isn’t trying to eat my face off,” he chuckles, and a nervous laugh racks my chest. Machete doesn’t do a lot of talking. He seems to be the most brooding, mysterious one around here. If anyone scares me, it’s him. “What’s his name?”
“Um, they call him Pete571—”
“Oh, we have to rename him. He ain’t no police dog. Look at em’, he looks like an outlaw.” He grabs Pete571 under the arms and lifts him from my hold without warning. Holding him up in the air like a scene from The Lion King he looks him over. “Yeah, look at him,” he mutters under his breath, admiring Pete. “His name is Rocky,” he says with force. He cuts me a hard look as if I better agree. I hold my hands up in surrender, only an idiot would disagree with a man like Machete.
“Rocky it is,” I nod. It’s better than Pete that’s for sure.
The rest of the patched members surround Machete, all talking and cooing over the German Shepherd. All but Felix that is. He’s leaning against the bar counter eyeing me with that look again. Like he hates me, but secretly wants me.
“Don’t mind him,” Jillian whispers in my ear. “Zeek told me a K9 was brought in by the FBI and Felix covered for his dad to escape, only to have his dad killed by a rival gang that same night. I think he blames himself.”
