by Forgy, M. N.
“It’s just toast, man,” Mac grumbles, noticing my unease of his generous offer.
Shaking my head, I press on her lower back urging her along.
Once inside her cell, I clip her to the bed and Mac slides a plate of toast along the floor. Her eyes flick to mine, and I look away and shut the door. Giving her some privacy. I wouldn’t before, but I will for this. I don’t want to watch her shoot a tampon up her pussy.
“At least Zeek doesn’t have to worry about you fucking her now,” Mac laughs behind me.
I look over my shoulder giving him a ridiculous look.
“Like that would stop me,” I smile. I’ve never fucked a bitch on her period, but as horny as I get… it wouldn’t stop me from going balls deep in pussy.
That or I would just fuck her in the ass.
“All right, I’m going to go see if I can find Alessandra or Felix. I’ll see you later,” Mac states, standing from the couch.
“Thanks for the um… shit,” I shrug.
He chuckles. “No problem, but I might be banned from Walmart.”
* * *
My fingers ache from drawing, so I set the sketchpad and pencils that Felix brought me, to the side. I draw shit from time to time. Sitting up, I glance at the metal door right across from me. One I’ve come to stare at quite a bit. I wonder if Raven took care of… everything down below. Getting up, I head over to the door and knock on it before placing my ear against the metal door.
“Are you all settled in there?” I ask, sounding like a concerned fucking dad. Shoot me now.
“I’m fine,” she clips dryly.
Sighing, I rub the back of my neck, looking toward the wall of pain. Maybe I should try some nipple clamps, something to move this shit along. A sudden noise upstairs catches my attention, taking my mind off my next tactic. With furrowed brows, I make sure Raven’s door is locked and head upstairs to see what is going on.
Standing in the warehouse just above the bunker that holds Raven, I find Zeek and Felix. They are observing a wooden crate, deep in conversation as I approach. It’s good to see them, fellow brothers that are more than any bloodline would understand the need to see one another. The true testament to loyalty and family, it brings a peace that a Bible thumper could compare to handling their Bible close to their chest.
My brothers are my bible.
My father was a military asshole, not much love was brought about my household. So to say I lack the emotion could be realistic, but these men taught me a little about that feeling. I care about them all.
“Hey, brother.” Felix juts his chin, and I return the gesture. His brown hair is down and he has dark bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days. Alessandra must be still having nightmares of what happened to her when she was kidnapped by Raven.
“What the fuck happened to your neck?” Zeek asks with wide eyes. Pressing my fingertip to the slight sting on my neck, I bring my finger back and find bright red blood. Fucking Raven must have done it when she attacked me.
“Nothing. What are you doing?” I ask, looking at the exposed bullets in the wooden crate stained and splintering from the sides. It’s been sitting as we’ve had these bullets for a while. I wasn’t aware of any drops coming up though, I thought we were putting everything on hold until we got Cross as we wanted to keep a low profile. Especially now that we have one of his pride and joys as our prisoner, one I’m enjoying toying with very much.
“Preparing,” Zeek clips, eyes focused on the box. His hair is slicked back and he’s got on a clean white shirt that appears bright under his dark leather cut. “The mafia, Cross, we need to be ready for anything,” he explains further. He’s a mess knowing Cross is out there, and rumor has it that Cross wants Zeek’s kids. So he put Jillian and the twins into hiding until Cross stops breathing. Zeek’s dark eyes slowly slip to mine. “Get anything from Raven?” he changes the subject.
I inhale a breath and cross my arms, feeling like a failure for not having a single fucking thing to offer my president. Guilt ruptures my chest from my attraction for this bitch making me sick to my stomach. “Mac is supposed to get me an address to Raven’s place, see if I can find something to crack her,” I inform.
Felix darts his hand in his pocket and hands me a piece of paper. Taking it from him I unfold it; it’s an address in a female’s handwriting.
“That’s her place, Mac told me to give it to you as he is busy getting pussy,” Felix informs with a smirk. Holding the small wrinkled paper in my fingers I nod.
The address is out of town; a hotel.
“You want to watch Raven while I head over there?” I ask, tucking the paper into my pocket. I hate to leave her, but I have to check this place out. I need something about this bitch.
“I’ll babysit the cunt,” Zeek offers with a grim tone, lifting his chin like the fucking president he is, he heads toward the bunker. He has no fear of her, and that’s admirable. I just hope he doesn’t lose his cool and try and cause her pain, because pain isn’t breaking this one but pushing her further away from us. My stomach tightens as I think about another man hurting her. I look down at the floor, the thought passing my mind too betraying to look at my president.
“Take Felix and Gatz with you, just in case you run into anything,” Zeek orders.
“Got it,” I reply, pushing my berating thoughts to the side.
Walking outside the warehouse, it’s dark outside and too fucking quiet.
Gatz stands by his motorcycle smoking a cigarette as Felix and I strut toward him. His hair is slicked back, his face clean shaved, and his clothes clean and neat without a smudge of grease, as usual.
“You’re with me,” I tell him.
He flicks his cigarette into the air and straddles his bike, not even asking me where the hell we’re going but down for the ride anyway. That’s how you know you have a trustworthy brother. No matter what, they’re down to ride or die. It wasn’t long ago this club was missing that loyalty. The man beside you would kill you and take your bike just for the thrill of it. That was back before Zeek was president though. Zeek seeks a brotherhood we all want, one thicker than blood and it’s the reason behind all this chaos as well.
Starting my motorcycle, I follow the directions my GPS gave me, and head to the shittiest hotel in Vegas, in the worst neighborhood you can think of at that. The sky blanketed with a thick layer of blackness as the moon rises high in the sky, the air dry and warm against my bare skin as I ride into the night with my thoughts on Raven and how I can separate my dick from wanting her and focus on breaking her for intel.
She’s so fucked up I want to know more about why she is the way she is. Maybe she and I are made from the same god that’s a misfit of the holy one everyone prays to. Maybe, were just psychotic. Our hearts and brains like hand grenades that could go off at any minute.
Our life is ripped into blood and pieces for what we believe in, and what we’re running from. Pain.
Pulling into the graveled parking lot of a hotel, we park right outside the main office and turn the engines off. I’ve passed this very hotel plenty of times doing runs, and I gotta say I’m surprised Raven is held up here.
It’s three stories and has an empty pool out front with an old blue metal lawn chair sitting in the middle of it.
The motel sign buzzes as the lights flicker on and off, and plants that were planted out front are dying from the overbearing sun during the day. Either the payout of being a cop sucks, or Raven has bad taste in accommodations. Why would she stay here?
“You want me to go in?” Gatz asks, taking his helmet off. He runs his hands through his hair, instantly putting it back in place.
“I’ll go with you,” I offer. You never know what kind of crack head you’ll run into in places like these.
Striding behind Gatz, we step into the main office. I instantly notice the puke yellow colored carpet and the ripped up chairs sitting in front of a few nicotine stained windows. An air conditioner window unit sitting lopsided in a w
indow gently blows a yellow colored, tree-shaped air freshener making the room slightly smell of stale vanilla.
A young hipster turns around in a green swivel chair behind the counter and smiles at us like were his best friends. He’s wearing a black hat with a pot leafed printed bandana under it. His skin is tan, and his eyes are bloodshot as hell. An unbuttoned white shirt shows off tattoos of weed, and a beautiful woman blowing smoke. Not bad artwork.
“’Sup brothers, my name is Brad, but you can call me B-Rad. You need a room or something?” he asks in a dopey tone. I can feel Gatz look at me, I’m sure biting back a ridiculous look.
“More like somethin’,” I reply with a low voice, and the boy’s smile vanishes from his face. He looks down, messing with his phone as if we aren’t even in the room and anger pulses in my neck.
“We need a key to a certain room, one that belongs to a black haired cop to be exact,” Gatz informs. My jaw ticks, ready to just punch this kid in the face and find the key myself. I have a temper like that. Punch first, ask later.
Brad shakes his head, tapping his fingers on the counter as his stoned eyes meet ours again.
“No can do, we have a policy—”
My patience gone, I reach across the counter and grab him by his shirt, pulling him halfway over I slam his face into the granite top.
“Really?” Gatz holds his hands out looking at me like a pissed off mother.
“He wasn’t going to give it to us and you know it. It’s quicker this way,” I respond with a dry tone.
Shaking his head, Gatz grabs Brad’s hair lifting his bloody face from the stained counter and gets right in his line of sight.
“We have a policy too, give us what we want or he kills you.” Gatz shrugs his shoulder towards me. He may not approve of my hostile ways, but he needs me. He knows it.
“Ok man, ok!” he whines through bloody busted lips. That was quick, but I expected it would be.
Releasing Brad, he slides off the counter and hobbles over to a metal box on the wall. Pulling a key from his pocket he opens it up and hands us a black shiny key card that has Jennifer Lopez plastered on the front of it. That sexy woman’s picture is spread everywhere these days.
“It’s room 6,” he informs with a shaky hand. Taking it from him, I smile politely.
“Thanks for your cooperation B-Rad.” Emphasis on his stupid nickname.
Gatz laughs, and we start to head out but I stop short. Remembering very important advice for B-Rad.
“Oh, and if you call the cops… we’ll be back,” I nod, confirming Brad’s worst nightmares running through his head. He blinks before his bloodshot eyes go wide. Giving the doorframe a slap, I wink handsomely and return my attention back to Gatz.
“Room 6,” Gatz announces to Felix, I twirl the key card in between my fingers to show we got what we came for.
Felix sighs, tossing his helmet on the handlebars of his bike and looks over the shitty hotel.
“You think we’ll ever find Cross or do you think we’re chasing a ghost, brother?” Felix asks softly. Taking a deep breath, I look to the dark sky for the answer, wondering myself if all of this will lead to something or just to our untimely deaths.
“I hope so, otherwise what the fuck does all this mean in the end?” I lift a shoulder glaring at Felix. Gatz’s brows squint as he looks out and takes in what I said.
“You fuck with us, we retaliate no matter how much blood is shed and how much time it takes. That is something we need to honor more than ever now that Zeek is tearing at the cold reins his uncle embedded into this club. We’re the fucking Sin City Outlaws, a brotherhood stronger than any family.”
“I know, I just hope Zeek getting us on a path of brotherhood doesn’t kill me is all,” he grumbles under his breath.
“What is death but a break from the final silence of pain,” I clip, granting me a concerned look from both Gatz and Felix. It’s times like this I know I’m not normal.
“You’re really fucked up, you know that?” Mac raises a brow, his right hand resting on the handlebars of his Bobber.
“No, what’s fucked up is you getting a fucking Bobber for a motorcycle,” I jab, I saved every penny for my Harley and wouldn’t be caught dead on anything else. It started with me working on an old ladies car that broke down outside the club one day, and then she told a friend about how great a job I did, and then the next thing I knew I had a bunch of old fucking ladies wanting me to work on their shit.
Life could be worse than cold lemonade and a stack of cash for adding some coolant to a Buick here and there though. I prefer it over any other job, less interaction with people this way.
Sliding the key card into Raven’s room, I have to shove my shoulder into the door to push it open fully. The bottom of the door sticks to the frame as if it’s too big to fit.
Giving the stiff door one last push it finally gives and we’re in. It looks like a plain ol’ hotel room, and if it weren’t for the blankets made perfectly into a small pallet on the floor I would think the room was vacant.
“She sleeps on the floor?” Gatz asks, just as surprised as I am. She was sitting on the floor the last time I went into her cell. I wonder if she has a fear of them or something.
“Does Alessandra do that?” I ask Felix, and he shakes his head, staring at the blankets in awe.
“Must be some PTSD shit,” I offer as a conclusion.
The floor is an ugly orange colored carpet rather than the yellow in the main office, the curtains a plaid red and it smells of stale cigarettes in here too. I would never let my woman stay in a place like this.
Taking a step further in, I faintly smell her, Raven. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but if I had to guess, it smells of a spicy pear. Painting the image of a black angel in my mind, her halo of fire burning into my veins so deep I can’t stop thinking of her.
“What the fuck are we supposed to get from this?” Gatz sarcastically asks, eyeing an empty room. There’s no pictures or keepsakes. No memorabilia or anything to suggest she gives a damn about anything.
“Reminds me of your room,” Gatz sneers, opening an empty dresser drawer.
I glare at him in response but he’s not wrong. My room at the club is bare as shit. I have no family, or give a fuck about anything other than my brotherhood, so I can relate to Raven on that level. But still, I have my club… what does she have that keeps her waking up every morning?
I walk over to the blankets and pick up the fluffy white pillow, my fingers digging into the plushness as I bring it to my face and inhale a deep breath. As if her scent will unlock all of her secrets, and giving me the perfect tactic to break her and bend her to my will.
“What’s that?” Felix points to something on the blankets. Moving the pillow from my face, I notice a piece of paper that has seen better days. It’s worn, stained, and even looks like it’s been burnt at one time but someone couldn’t bear to part with it so they saved it from the fire.
Dropping the pillow to the side I pick it up. At first I thought it was a confusing letter, but upon reading it again it slightly rings a bell.
“That’s a poem, a very famous one,” Gatz informs over my shoulder. “’The Raven,’ by Edgar Allan Poe.” He continues, grabbing the paper from my hands.
“There are dozens of theories of what this poem means, but it’s said that the man loses a lover and a devil bird, that is a raven, taunts him as the man falls slowly into madness. Some think the narrator killed his wife, others think the bird is responsible in some ways.”
I blink slowly, Gatz surprising me every time he opens his goddamn mouth.
“How in the fuck do you know that?” Felix and I both ask at the same time. Gatz suddenly looks up from the poem, his eyes wide. “Oh, um. Saw it on TV or something,” he dismisses a little too quickly before handing the paper back.
“What do you think it means?” Felix questions, looking the confusing poem over.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” I fol
d the paper gently and place it in my back pocket.
“There’s nothing else in here,” Felix groans, flipping through her clothes hanging in the closet.
Raising a brow, anger boils in my veins. Coming here was supposed to help, but all it did was confuse me more. Confirming the challenge that lies ahead of me. I have to get in Raven’s head and figure out what scared her when she was in that underground trafficking.
“What does Alessandra have nightmares about exactly?” I ask, desperate for anything.
“Um, they used to hit the bars of the cage, she tenses when she hears a similar sound I’ve noticed. She doesn’t like not having control over her food and water either. I don’t know, she tries to act like she’s fine but I can see through her tough girl act,” Felix informs me.
