Burning Daylight (A Devil's Cartel MC Series Book 2)

by Skyla Madi

  Growling, Antonio pulls back his fist and Judge holds firm, not even bracing for impact.

  “Antonio, stop!” I snap, pulling the rifle harder against my shoulder. I line him up.

  Antonio turns his head and his thin lips pull into a wry smile. He drags his volcanic glass stare over my face and down the length of my body, seemingly amused by the baggy hoodie draped over me. I don’t look at Judge in fear of what Antonio will see in my expression.

  “There she is, my darling sister-in-law.” He seethes in Judge’s face as he lowers his fist but keeps the knife firmly in place. “You lied.”

  Judge clenches his jaw.

  “Let him go,” I say, my voice wavering as fear creeps over my vocal cords.

  There was once a time I could command a criminal to do whatever I wanted, and out of fear, they listened to me. Elias took that too, the confidence I was able to wield with a certain tone.

  “No,” Antonio simply says, paying me no attention. He leans closer to Judge. “You really weren’t going to tell me where she was, huh?” Judge doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. “She has you wrapped around her little finger—”

  “I ain’t wrapped around shit,” Judge swears, trying to shrug Antonio off.

  Judge hisses and stills as a drop of blood rolls down his neck, disappearing under the collar of his worn, black shirt.

  “If you’re smart, you’ll surrender her before any more of your men die.”

  Any more? My stomach twists.

  “I had to leave Elias, Antonio,” I interject, and he looks at me. “I had to protect Nicolás.”

  The corner of his lips twitch. “You still want to protect that retar—”

  Cursing, Judge shoves Antonio backward and it’s all the space I need. I shoot. I fill his thin body with bullets. Lots of them, until the gun runs dry and there are more holes in my ex-brother-in-law than a slice of Swiss cheese. Even then, I keep clicking, willing one more bullet to enter his flesh, then I’ll be satisfied.

  The rifle continues to click.

  Growling, I toss the gun to the grass. There isn’t a word I hate more in the English language than the ‘r’ word. Elias and his grossly uptight family walk around with their noses held high, as if their addiction to murder isn’t an atrocious birth defect.

  Judge stares at Antonio and his bullet-riddled black suit, then looks at me. I tremble all over—with rage, exhaustion, sadness, and nervousness. It’s a messy mix in the pit of my chest and I don’t know how to make it stop. Or if it ever will.

  He steps closer, and it’s calculated and threatening. I straighten my spine, preparing for the worst. Damon’s dark, stormy eyes narrow, his full, firm lips pursed into an angry line. Blood splatter paints his face and it sends a chill down my spine. Maybe he wants to kill me. I am the reason his clubhouse is under attack, after all. He stops a foot away and, for a moment, I regret tossing the rifle. His expression is authoritarian and demanding. He wants me to prove my loyalty, but I don’t know how, or if I even want to.

  I lift my chin. “I’m not here for you, or anyone else in his chapter,” I tell him, though it’s nothing new. “All I want is my son.”

  Judge flickers his gaze over my face, looking for something. A lie, perhaps. I flinch as he closes the distance and wraps me up in his arms. His hug is far from gentle. It’s strong and protective, tighter than any hug I’ve ever had. He holds every ounce of himself against me, as if he’s desperate to keep me from crumbling. I close my eyes and focus on the tension in my muscles and how it melts into the warm, smokey air. I part my lips and let out an exhale. Despite the chaos hurtling around us, the sounds of rapid-fire weapons, and the shouts of men fighting a battle I dragged them into, peace swirls through me. Because I’m safe.

  Releasing me from his bear-hug, Judge cups my face in his big hands and forces me to look at him. “You’re gonna go back to the bunker where it’s safe until we’ve cleared out the property, all right? Then we’ll talk.”

  I nod and he turns me around and nudges me in the direction I came.

  FOURTEEN

  J U D G E

  I pressed my boot to the slick bastard’s back and held his tired body to the gravel drive. Blood seeped from his lips as he groaned, blowing dust around his boyish face. I extended my arm, lining the barrel of Stoic’s sawed-off shotgun to his head, and I shot him. The bang was deafening, but it made my mouth water. The gravel splashed with blood and the pieces of his skull were hard to distinguish against the small rocks. I stared at the mess below me, a gross mess that reminded me of a red paper mâché moon Nila made once. Exhaling, I lifted the shotgun, rested it against my shoulder, and stepped off Elias’s goon. I’m getting too old for this shit. I turned as Armi sauntered close, his chest rising and falling like he’d run a mile.

  Puckering his lips, he spat on the ground and planted his hands on his hips. “That the last one?”

  I nodded, flicking my gaze over my approaching men. “Think so.”

  Cursing, he gathered his blood and dirt stained hair and pulled it behind his head. “Elias really wants her dead,” he said, fastening his tangled locks into a bun.

  My gut churned at the thought of going up against someone like Elias Vergara. He had power—and not just in America. He had international power. All I had was this damn chapter. Armi suggested I call our sister chapters, but it’d be a cold day in hell before I asked any of them for help. They wouldn’t help anyway, not even if I begged. We ran different ships, believed in different things.

  I handed Armi the shotgun and sauntered past him. “Don’t touch any of the bodies. No doubt the cops will be here soon, and I don’t want them pinning this shit on us.”

  I looked at Casino as he strolled in from the right, cupping his bleeding neck. His leather cut was burnt, and his black shirt ripped.

  “You dying?” I asked, and he shook his head.

  “Just a scratch.”

  “Good. Move the weapons, diamonds, and the drugs.” I flicked my chin toward Ayr, who was covered head to toe in blood and wielded a splitting axe. “Ayr can take Kace and Iris and spray down warehouse three and four.”

  Casino cursed. “You reckon they’d search there?”

  “There’s fifty dead men on our property. What do you think?”

  I kept walking, crossing the expanse of burnt and smoking grass toward the barn—or what was the barn. One whole side was blown off and there was no way it was repairable. I entered the barn as Creed was pulling Blondie out of the bunker. He guided her gently across the floor with one hand on her forearm, the other by her elbow, and his fingers pressed into her tiny bicep. He spoke to her in soft, soothing tones, but her face was a blank canvas, her eyes glassy and vacant.

  “Is she all right?” I asked, and Creed shrugged it off.

  “She will be.”

  I glanced past him at the open bunker, its entrance partially covered by debris. “Yasmine in there?”

  “Yeah.”

  He eyed me as I walked past, and he didn’t like whatever he saw on my face. Stepping away from Blondie, he snagged me by my bicep and held me in place. I peered at his grip with a frown. If it were anyone else, there’d be hell to pay, but Creed was my person—my brother. He’d been my best friend since I saved him from a gang beating in the detention center when we were kids. There was no one I trusted on this planet more than Creed.

  “Go easy on her,” he said, his golden eyes softening. “She did good.”

  Did he think I was going to hurt her? Whatever he thought my intentions were, I didn’t plan on causing her anymore grief or harm.

  “Did good?”

  “Let’s just say my brains would be amongst the debris if it wasn’t for her.” A strange swell of pride swirled in my chest and Creed released my bicep. “Not saying you have to forgive her but take what I’ve said into consideration before you punish her.”

  Punish her? I had no intention of punishing her, but I nodded anyway. If Creed were in her corner, I could use him to g
et her out of the mess she made when I sat down to talk with the others later. I’d goad him into doing most of the talking, then it wouldn’t look like I was pussy whipped by Yasmine. In hindsight, she saved my life too. Somehow, her creepy ex-brother-in-law got the upper hand over me. If she hadn’t come, I’d be dead.

  But I’d never admit that.

  I walked away from Creed and descended the bunker stairs. My gaze zeroed in on a pacing Yasmine as I reached halfway. She froze when she saw me and dropped her hand from her mouth to fidget with her nails in front of her stomach. Her big, dark eyes showcased every emotion she felt, their watery depths holding every shred of concern and regret. I continued down and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. I flexed my fingers at my sides as I surveyed her. Her almost black hair was wild around her face from the night we shared and from the fight. I bet she still smelled like me. I bet she smelled like gunpowder, blood, and sweat.

  Yasmine parted her lips, then closed them again. She looked so fucking sorry.

  So miserable.

  “How—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “How many men did you lose?”

  My jaw relaxed and I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I didn’t want to tell her. I already saw the heavy boulders of guilt she carried on her small shoulders.

  “By the looks, eight…” I cleared my throat. “But an official tally hasn’t been done.”

  She nodded, slowly at first, then it got quicker, more anxious. “I’m sorry.”

  Yasmine averted attention to the moldy roof and pushed her tongue to the side of her mouth, as if licking her teeth. The longer she tried to hold on to whatever she was holding back, the more agitated she became. Her eyes grew wetter, her face paler, and the tremble in her hands took over her whole body. I approached her and that made it worse. She tried to turn away, but I snatched the hem of the hoodie she was wearing—my hoodie—and pulled her back. A rogue tear spilled over the rim of her eye and I had enough of seeing her cry. Exhaling, I pushed my fingers through her messy hair and lifted it off the back of her neck. It was hot down here, the air heavy and unclean.

  “Death isn’t scarce here. My men wake up every morning expecting it.”

  “They didn’t have to die today. If I never—”

  “They’re dead,” I cut in, releasing her hair. I cupped her pretty face in my hands and smoothed my thumbs under her eyes, pushing away her tears. “They’re gone. It’s done.”

  What the hell was I doing? I watched my tattooed hands as I cupped her face and did my best to catch whatever emotions seeped through her cracks. It wasn’t like me to care, but here I stood, hating that she felt so burdened, hating that she was so sad.

  “You need to shower,” I said. “And eat and rest.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can and you will.” I smoothed my palms down her neck and onto her shoulders. “You need to be well-rested for your son.”

  Minnie’s eyes lit up and it warmed my chest. “You’re still going to help me? After everything?”

  I knew better. I fucking knew better than to continue down this path after today’s events, but I was a man of my word. Always had been. It helped that I was attracted to her, that my feelings for her snaked their way around each of my ribs and hung heavy in my chest, like a growing infection.

  “I said I’d help you and I meant it. We leave for Vegas at sunset.”

  She made a tight noise in her throat and shot forward, throwing her whole body against me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I hugged her back, tightening mine around her waist.

  Once Yasmine gathered her composure, we climbed out of the bunker and left the barn. Bodies were scattered across the grass and, in the distance, the sound of sirens finally made an appearance. I wanted her inside before they got here, and I got the feeling she wanted the same.

  We approached the smoking clubhouse side by side, and the crowd of men that stood around the front steps, protecting their castle. I blew impatient air out of my nose, too tired and fucking sore to fight them too.

  Casino was the first to step forward. He straightened his posture and crossed his arms over his chest. In a bid to intimidate her, he stood on the second step and towered over us. The fucking nerve… I cut my eyes at Creed, who stood off to the left, Blondie resting against him. She glanced awkwardly between Minnie and I and offered her a sympathetic pout.

  “Get out of my way,” I demanded.

  “Can’t let her in, Prez. She’s a pig.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, Minnie lowered her head to look at the floor, and it made rage burn in my blood.

  “Was,” Creed said, coming to her defense. “So was Sora when he came to us.”

  “Sora didn’t keep it from us. She did.”

  “She came to me as a townie with a problem. She wasn’t looking to join the chapter, so her past was irrelevant,” I argued, keeping my cool.

  Casino barked a laugh and shook his head. Blood trickled from his neck and rolled under the collar of his shirt. “A townie with a problem? Are we the fucking boy scouts now?”

  I clenched my teeth and my nostrils flared. I stepped forward only to be stopped by a small hand on my forearm. “You’re whatever the fuck I tell you to be.”

  Casino dropped his gaze to the hold she had on my forearm, then lifted it back to my face. The challenge in his irises was clear. He wasn’t going to drop it and I didn’t expect him to. My men knew what they stood for and I admired it, even if it’d come back to bite me in the ass.

  “It’s you against us, Prez.” He dropped off the second step and landed on the third one. “No pigs allowed.”

  I held my teeth tightly together and felt my pulse in my jaw muscles. We were at an impasse and I really didn’t know how to end it without bloodshed. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I would if he didn’t rethink his stance on letting Minnie pass.

  A second ticked by.

  A couple more ensued.

  I straightened my spine, ready to end it for Casino when Creed pushed away from the building and stood beside Yasmine. Casino shifted his attention to Creed and his tense expression faltered. One by one, the men dropped down the stairs and stood on my side against Casino. Whether they were on my side, or just wanted Casino to shut up and let us pass, I didn’t know. Casino peered over his shoulder at Modo, the last brother, who drummed his fingers against the base of his axe. I narrowed my eyes at him, silently demanding he make the right choice, or I’d kill them both.

  “Well.” Modo sighed and lifted his axe off the ground. “The lady is all right, Casino. We all gotta start somewhere. Shit, you worked for Ventilli in Vegas, remember?”

  Modo dragged his feet to stand with the rest of us. Other members lingered, knowing better than to get involved in our “upper management” beef—even our prospect, Kace, who stood off to the side, kept his attention on the ground.

  Realizing his defeat, Casino pushed his fingers through his cropped hair and looked at me. It was hard not to act smug. Fuck Casino.

  “I gave you your orders,” I said. “You should be on your bike.”

  He licked his parched lips and planted his hands on his hips like he had more to say. Knowing better, he flicked his chin at Kace. “C’mon.”

  I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding as Kace and Casino sauntered up the drive, an excited Iris hot on their heels.

  “Prez,” Armi said, drawing my attention as he slipped his phone into his jean pocket. “Cops are a minute out.”

  Shit. I grabbed Minnie by the wrist and tugged her toward the stairs. “Go shower.”

  She started forward without hesitation, only to be stopped by Creed’s call. “Take Isabelle with you.”

  We both looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “To the shower?” Minnie asked, sparing a look at Isabelle, who made her way toward the steps, her movements more fluid than before.

  “Yeah. I’ve given her valium. It’ll kick in soon and she’ll need supervising, maybe some help.”


  “And you’ve got the same parts, so…” Modo said, causing laughter to erupt.

  I shook my head. I was in charge of a bunch of idiots. Looking uncertain, Minnie held out her hand and helped Blondie up the stairs. Peering over her shoulder at me, she opened the door and slipped inside the damaged clubhouse.

  “So, she’s your bitch then?” Modo asked.

  I turned to face him, turned to face all the curious stares pointing in my direction.

  “There gonna be a problem with that?”

  Heads shook, and Modo’s lips quirked. “Nah, Prez. No problem here.”

  “Good.” I pointed at him. “You can help Armi and Hawk prep the bikes for tonight. We leave for Nevada at sunset.”

  Y A S M I N E

  The water is hot. It billows so much dense steam I feel it in my lungs whenever I inhale. The glass walls encasing three sides around Isabelle and I are so fogged it barely registers when I draw a smiley face on it.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she says, clutching Judge’s black loofah to her chest. “It’s like I was a prisoner in my own mind. I wanted to move, but…” I look at her as she stares at the slate gray tiles, focusing on nothing but the images in her head. “I couldn’t.”

  “You’re safe now,” I tell her, taking the soapy loofah out of her hands. “It’s over.”

  “With men like them, it’s never over.”

  I press the loofah to her arms and continue the cleaning she started. As I reach the top of her shoulder, I lift her bra strap and clean under it. I wash off the dirt, dust, and mold spores that gathered on her skin while she was in the bunker. She stays silent as I wash her body. Her underwear remains on, covering her most intimate parts from view.

  I admire Isabelle Laurent on a whole new level now. The way she stormed into the barn for me…she didn’t care it was her against the Devil’s Cartel. She knew what they were doing was wrong and she wasn’t going to sit by and let them hurt me.