by Erin Trejo
“How long?” I ask with a small smirk on my face.
“Lying bastard.”
“How long has your memory been back? Amy.” I say the name I gave her in a condescending tone just to get a rise out of her. She bucks her hips trying to get me off her, but it doesn’t work.
“I waited. I wanted to see how long you’d keep up your little lying game. You are so stupid,” she hisses. I lower my head, so my face is closer to hers.
“Am I? I saved your ass. I could have left you there to bleed the fuck out, but I didn’t.”
“Oh, you want to be known as a hero?”
“I’m no one’s hero, sweetheart. How long have you known?” I ask once more, pressing into her a little harder now.
“Almost two weeks. Some things are still a little fuzzy,” she admits, looking away from me. I put both her small wrists into one of my hands and grab her face with the other. Jerking her head so she’s looking at me once more, I look her in the eyes.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why would I? I’m living it up in this roach motel,” she says with a smirk. My hand slips from her face down to her neck, squeezing lightly. She doesn’t move or try to fight me. No, she stares back at me like she’s used to this kind of treatment and that alone grabs my interest.
“You aren’t afraid of me,” I say as a statement.
“Not in the slightest.”
“Why is that?” I ask curiously enough.
“Why would I be? You are a nobody compared to what my father is.” Those words have me releasing her but not out of fear. No, it’s out of curiosity.
“What’s your name?”
“Silla.”
“Short for?”
“Short for nothing. Just Silla. My parents were idiots. I always thought it was short for Priscilla but nope. Just Silla.”
“So what? You know who you are now, why are you still here?” She turns to the dresser, grabs a cigarette and lights it up before turning to look back at me.
“I’ve heard you on the phone.”
“And?” I chuckle as I walk past her and grab the bottle of Vodka off the small table.
“And I want to know what it is you do.”
“Yeah, I bet you would. Not happenin’, sweetheart. I have no fuckin’ clue who you are and tellin’ someone my business? That’s a shitstorm waitin’ to happen.”
“Who shot you?” My eyes move to hers now and hold there.
“No one.”
“Those dreams of yours don’t sound like no one. In fact, they sound like someone close to you.” If she’s trying to piss me off, she’s doing a great job. I take another pull from the bottle before setting it on the table and motioning for her to come closer. She does and when she’s within reach, I grab her and pull her into my lap. My cock jumps just as she sits, and I know she can feel it. I let my lips roam closer to her ear, my tongue stroking the lobe gently.
“And what if I said it was someone close to me? What if I told you I plan on killin’ the motherfucker who killed me?” She moans. She fucking moans as she shifts her hips making my cock harder.
“You don’t feel dead,” she says softly, pressing into me harder.
“Oh, I died, darlin’. Right there on that dirty fuckin’ floor. I was dead.”
“Then I’d say I want in.” Turning her head, she presses her lips to mine, a hot heated kiss. I drive my tongue into her mouth, sucking and licking. Fuck, she tastes as good as I thought she would. Silla moves to straddle me, cupping my face with her hands as she grinds against me. I grab her hips, holding her in place as I thrust up, meeting her strokes with my own. It doesn’t matter that we’re both fully fucking covered in clothes.
Chapter Seven
“Shit,” she hisses, pulling away from me quickly.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just a weird pain in my side,” she says, moving her hand to the area. I move mine, too, lifting her shirt so I can get a better look.
“You takin’ the antibiotics? That looks pretty red,” I tell her.
“I stopped taking them. They make me feel sick.”
“Start takin’ them. That shit’s gettin’ infected. You’re gonna end up right back in the hospital if you don’t.” She nods her head as I let my fingers skim over her flesh. I watch the way she shivers just from my touch and I like it. More than that? I like her.
“Tell me about you,” I say as my fingers keep moving. She looks me in the eye now, unsure if she should open up to me or not. I lift my own shirt and show her the scars from my own gunshots when she notices my tattoo.
“Royal Devils,” she reads softly, her nail slowly tracing over the letters.
“I’m the bad guy.” She smirks.
“I’m the bad girl. I’m only giving you this because you kept me safe although I have no idea why you’d do that. My name is Silla Prescott. Before I was jumped, I was being trained to do things. Things most women would find disgusting. My entire outlook on family has been screwed up since I was a kid. My mom is gone. Don’t ask me where because I don’t know and my dad, well if you know the name Prescott then you already know who he is.” My head cocks to the side as I think about that name. Then it hits me. She smirks seeing the realization as it slams into me.
“Jordan Prescott.” I say his name. She nods her head before climbing off my lap and moving to the bed. She drops onto the edge and looks over at me, her hands tucked under her thighs.
“You know him, clearly.”
“Don’t know him. I’ve heard of him. Stays mostly up this way, yeah?” She nods her head.
“Yeah. He’s based in Wisconsin, but he has people all over the states.”
“And you play into all this how?” She smiles but doesn’t want to give me that part. Too fucking bad. Now that I know she has her memory back, I can kick her ass to the curb and move on with my plans, which is exactly what I’m going to do. Shoving out of my chair, I grab my bag and start packing. Silla doesn’t make a move to get up and that intrigues me as well.
“I am supposed to be a hitman. Or woman that is,” she says with a giggle. I turn to look at her over my shoulder and shake my head. Her? Yeah, I don’t see that shit. I go back to packing. “You don’t believe me?”
“Not even a little. Look at you. You can’t be more than what? One twenty if that? You are five-foot nothin’ and you can’t fight off a man my size.”
“Hence the reason I was perfect for the job. I don’t need to fight, only shoot and that I can do,” she adds. When I have most of my stuff packed into the bag, I turn to face her, resting my hands on my hips.
“Then what are you doin’ here? Why didn’t you run back to Daddy?” That’s it. I see the way her face fell before she tried to pull her mask back into place. It has something to do with him.
“I couldn’t… I didn’t kill someone I was supposed to.”
“Real good hitman,” I grumble before moving to grab my shirt off the floor.
“He didn’t deserve it. I knew the truth and my dad still wanted him dead. I don’t want to kill without a reason.”
“Isn’t that what hitmen do? Kill who they are told to kill?”
“Not me. I think it’s why I was jumped. My dad is looking for the information I have that I’m not willing to give up.” She shrugs her shoulders. What the hell is this little girl up to?
“Which is?”
“My dad is fucking around behind all his contacts backs. He’s playing them all against each other. In the end, there will only be one.”
“Let me guess. Him?” She nods once more. “Why are you tellin’ me this? You don’t know if I know him or if my club has business with him,” I tell her.
“Your tattoo says Chicago. He doesn’t have dealings in Chicago.”
“So? We have chapters all over the country, Silla. You shouldn’t be openin’ your mouth the way you are. You can’t trust anyone,” I tell her. It’s the truth. You can’t trust people with that kind of shit. They’ll use it again
st you.
“You took care of me. You lied for me. Why shouldn’t I trust you?” I turn back to look at her as she stands from the bed and what? Challenges me? That’s what it looks like. Her head’s held high, her eyes are on fire. What the hell is she thinking?
“You wanna know why? Because I’m a nobody,” I say, stepping closer to her. “I’m the man that is about to go murder his own father.” Her eyes sparkle with interest. I know that look.
“Take me with you.” I laugh when the words leave her mouth.
“Not a chance in hell. You got your memory back, go do what you do.” I turn to grab my bag, tossing it over my shoulder before heading toward the door.
“Take me with you!” Her screams make my cock hard. I turn to look at her and see the desire, the desperation in her eyes. Tilting my head to the side, I take her in.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you wanna go with me? This isn’t a game. Shit happened and now it’s all about revenge, Silla. You could get hurt.”
“I won’t.” I set my bag on the floor and move toward her, grabbing her around the back of her neck.
“I’m not goin’ to play games, Silla. I’m goin’ to kill my father.”
“Then let’s kill him before I go after mine.”
Chapter Eight
Mystic was able to hook me up with a bike and Silla stitched up my cut where the bullet tore through it. I shrug it on as I look at myself in the hotel mirror. She stands next to me, an evil glint in her eyes. I was shocked when she said she wanted to go, but the idea of her being around when I handle business hasn’t sat well with me. She didn’t lie to me about who she was or what she was because I asked Mystic to check that shit too. He confirmed it all, but as of now, her father has her as missing. We have no idea what that means.
“I know he tried to have me killed. I’m supposed to be dead, Grave.” Hearing her call me that sends a chill down my spine. I’ve missed hearing that name.
“But you’re not.”
“No, I’m not but he doesn’t have confirmation.”
“You said he has no connections in Chicago, yeah?” Our eyes lock in the mirror as she nods her head. “Then don’t worry about him just yet. Let me handle my business, then we’ll handle yours.” Her mouth parts slightly as she looks at me. I know what I said.
“We?”
“Yeah, we. You think I’m lettin’ you go after him alone? Knowin’ what I do now? Not a fuckin’ chance.”
“I can handle myself!”
“Clearly. You got shot.” I chuckle, nodding toward her side.
“I don’t need your help, Grave! You know what? Fuck all this! Fuck you!” Grabbing her bag, she tosses it over her shoulder and heads for the door when I move to stop her. I grab her around the waist, lifting her off the floor. She kicks and tries to fight but when I move my lips over her neck, she shudders.
“Where do you think you’re goin’?”
“You can’t just keep kissing me and think that’s it. It doesn’t work like that! I’m nothing to you!” She screams louder, but once again, I prove my point by nipping at her flesh. Silla moans and that’s about all I can handle. I move, pressing her body into the bed before yanking her shorts down. I do the same with my own jeans as she lies there, bent over the end of the bed.
“You better say no now,” I warn her before slapping my hand against her ass. She gasps but doesn’t say a word. It takes seconds for me to position myself behind her and shove in. Her hands tangle in the blankets by her head as I grab her hips and thrust roughly into her.
“Oh shit!”
“Try to walk away from me again,” I growl as I plunge into her. Each thrust gets me deeper. Each one taking me higher. Goddamn this girl for fucking with my head the last few months. Goddamn her for coming into my world and ripping it apart. Each thought has me fucking her harder, rougher. She pants, she moans, she fucking calls out my name as I slam inside of her.
“Grave! Shit I’m gonna—” Her words are cut off when her pussy spasms around my cock. It takes every ounce of strength I have to not come inside of her. A few more thrusts and I pull out, grabbing my cock and unloading all over her ass. I grunt, jerking with my release.
“Shit,” I draw out the word. When I have nothing left to unload, I tuck myself back into my boxers and jeans. Silla stays there, spent from her orgasm. I run my fingers through the cum on her ass, scooping it onto my fingers before moving to the side. “Open,” I demand. She looks up at me and opens her mouth. I stick my fingers in and she sucks them like her life depends on it. Her tongue licks over my fingers, taking everything. When I pull them free, she smirks.
“Get cleaned up.”
“Does that mean I get to go?”
“That means you’re mine now. Try and fuckin’ get away from me. I dare you.” Silla smiles and stands up, walking with her shorts around her ankles to the bathroom. I run my hand over my face wondering what the hell I’m doing now. Am I claiming her? No, I’m not. She can ride though. She can be my little fuck toy for the time being and once all this shit is settled, she can go on her way.
Silla comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later looking freshly fucked. Her hair is mussed up and sexy as hell but it’s the pinkness in her cheeks that causes me to grin.
“What?”
“Freshly fucked looks good on you, babe.”
“Then maybe you should do it more often,” she adds.
“I can do that. Listen, Silla, if you wanna bail, I get it. You’re steppin’ into the unknown and I can tell you, this isn’t gonna be easy. They think I’m dead,” I tell her. She shrugs her shoulders, grabs her bag, and looks back up at me.
“That makes two of us. Maybe we’re in the same grave.” She winks.
“The clubhouse makes this look like a goddamn fairy tale.”
“I’ve lived in worse. Look, if you don’t want me going, say the fucking words, Grave. I’m not some little girl you need to coddle and hold hands with to cross the fucking street. I’ve seen shit in my life. Maybe not the exact same as you but I’ve seen it.”
“I… fuck, Silla! Fine! You know what? I want you to go. Don’t fuckin’ ask me why either.”
“Well it isn’t because of my golden pussy, that’s for sure. Took you long enough to use it, by the way,” she says as she walks past me, toward the door.
“Keep that mouth up and I’ll be usin’ it next. Besides, you were sick.” She snorts out a laugh.
“No, I was pretending remember?” She looks at me over her shoulder, her long dark lashes fluttering as she does. Damn that woman.
“You weren’t pretendin’ to be shot. Now get that smartass mouth of yours outside. I got a bike bein’ delivered.”
“Really?” She looks over, scrunching up her nose.
“Yeah. I told you I have connections, darlin’.” We step outside just as I see the truck backing in. Silla smirks up at me like she didn’t actually believe me. Hell, Mystic can pull strings that no one else possibly can.
“You got skills, huh?” she asks.
“I might but I’d like to see your skills, stripper girl.” She laughs, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard in a very long time. She moves to stand in front of me, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling my mouth to hers. Before our lips actually touch, she whispers, “Be a good boy and I just might give you a show.” She sticks her tongue out, running it along the seam of my lips before I can’t hold back. Crashing my mouth to hers, I devour it. Our teeth clank; I tug at her tongue. She moans, pressing her tits into my chest. Fuck, I’ll fuck her again, right here, right now. My bag falls from my hand as I grip her hips and lift her. She wraps her legs around me, grinding against me.
“You’re gonna get in trouble,” I whisper between nips at her lips.
“I like trouble.”
“So it seems.”
“I’m supposed to be meeting a guy named Grave?” I hear the truck driver say but fuck, Silla feels too good pressed up agai
nst me like this. She wiggles her hips and I nearly come in my jeans.
“We need that bike, babe,” I remind her as she presses harder.
“I need your cock inside of me.”
“Fuck,” I growl, debating just doing it, just fucking her right here against the hotel wall. That is until she drops her legs and slides down my body.
“But you’re right. We need the bike.” I’m spanking her ass later for that shit.
“Shit, move there,” I say, nodding toward her. She smiles as I take the clipboard from the guy and sign my name on it. I step back and watch as he unloads the bike when my phone rings. Pulling it out, I see it’s Mystic.
“Bike’s here.”
“Yeah, I know, but that’s not what I’m callin’ for.”
“What’s goin’ on?” The line is silent for a long second. That usually means nothing good is coming from this conversation.
“Shit, Grave. Someone put a hit out on your mom, brother.”
“What? Who the fuck did that?”
“I don’t know man. I’m pullin’ what I can but this just came down the line. When you headin’ back?”
“Now. Shit, can you get someone on her? Psycho?”
“That’s another issue, Grave. Psycho is off his meds, brother. He’s goin’ all kinds of crazy,” he informs me. I curse under my breath.
“Who called you?”
“Preacher.”
“Fuck! Get him over there, Mystic! Get him there now!” I shut the phone off and stuff it in my pocket before grabbing my bag and stuffing it into the saddlebag. When I turn to Silla, I see my other gun in her hand. She checks the ammo before stuffing it into her backpack as I watch. I got a few guns off the street up here when I first got out of the hospital. I didn’t want any fucking surprises but there she is, the biggest surprise of them all, standing in front of me with my gun.
“What?” she asks playfully.
“Stealin’?”
“No. I’m just borrowing. What was with the phone call?”
“Someone ordered a hit on my mom. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s my dad tryin’ to pull me out of hidin’.” She nods her head and holds her hand out to me. I just look from her hand back to her face.
