Riding Dirty: Nine Devils MC

by Kara Parker

  ***

  Rose is once again awakened by the arrival of food. She apathetically eats it, not noticing the consistency or the taste. The sleep between breakfast and lunch has done much to harden her resolve. Hector Matos may end up fucking her tonight, but it will be her dead body. She will fight him until her last breath, survive long enough to take a gun from a guard, or die in the attempt. She is Athena… the goddess of war and justice. She can be killed, but she can’t be beaten. Resigned to her fate, she drags a chair to the window and spends the afternoon looking at the city.

  When dinner arrives, it comes with a robe. “After you finish eating, Señor Matos said for you to bathe and dress in this,” the man with the gun says, his accent so thick she can barely understand him.

  “You can tell Señor Matos he can go fuck himself!”

  “Yes. He said if you won’t make yourself pretty, I am to help you.” The man leers. “I think I will enjoy helping you bathe.”

  Rose looks the man over and decides that he is too big to overpower. “Fine! Get out!”

  With a disappointed glance, he says something in Spanish to the older man that had brought in the food and the robe. The man tosses the robe on the bed and they leave, the bolt clicking into place. She eats while contemplating defying Matos out of spite, but then decides to go meekly until she has her chance.

  It is well after dark when they return for her. She has bathed and used the brush included with the robe to brush her hair. She stands in the middle of the room as the door opens. Good… only one armed man. “Come,” the man says, motioning with his gun.

  The man steps backwards into the hall as she exits her room. As she passes, she whirls on him, grabbing for his gun… and receives the butt of the gun to her jaw. She drops to the floor, seeing stars and holding her jaw where the man had struck her. “Save it for Señor Matos, niña. You will need it, I think,” the man growls as he reaches down and hauls her to her feet.

  Holding her aching jaw and sniffing back tears of pain and fear, Rose walks ahead of the gunman. As she enters the main room, she can see Matos standing on the cushions at the center of the ring of chairs. There are more chairs, and people, than last night, with a third and fourth row of spectators standing behind the chairs.

  “Ah, señorita, so glad you can join us. Did you rest well? I hope so, as you will need your strength tonight, I think. I have been waiting all day for this moment. And, perhaps, so have you, eh?”

  “Fuck you, Matos!” she shouts in defiance.

  “Oh, I assure you, you will,” he says loudly, obviously enjoying his power over her. “Are you ready to make good on your boast… that you are better than five Mexican women? Come, show me,” he says, shrugging out of his robe and throwing it to a guard, his enormous penis already fully erect. She refuses to step forward, to enter the circle of chairs. “Not so brave now, eh señorita? Where is the desire for the no holds barred fucking you promised me, eh? You will come to me, now, or I will have Amalia kill your Joseph. Come, see for yourself.”

  Rose swallows hard and steps through the gap left in the chairs. Lying at the very edge of the cushioned area is Amalia and Joseph… Joseph in her arms as Amalia holds the point of a wicked knife at his throat.

  “You see?” Matos says. “He only lives so long as I allow it.” He looks to Amalia. “If she doesn’t remove her robe, slit his throat.”

  “Yes, papa,” Amalia says as she presses the blade harder into his throat, the point dimpling the skin.

  “Don’t do it, Rose,” Joseph says, and then hisses as a trickle of blood runs from the point of the blade.

  “He is a very good lover. I would hate to kill him so soon, but I can find another,” Amalia sneers before kissing him seductively on the neck.

  Rose wills away her tears and begins to untie the belt of the robe, her eyes never leaving the point of the knife. As the belt comes free, she pauses until the pressure on the knife is released, before dropping her robe at her feet and kicking it away.

  Matos begins to stroke his manhood. “Now, we shall see who out fucks who, eh?”

  She crouches. “Give it your best shot, asshole,” she snarls. She isn’t sure what she will do, but this is going to end only one way—with her death. And she isn’t going to make it easy on him. Matos takes a step toward her, reaching for her hair with one hand, his other still on his cock. She tries to back up, but she is too slow to react and he takes her hair. As he pulls her to him, she throws a punch as hard as she can straight at his throat, the most vulnerable spot she can think of.

  Joseph watches as Matos gasps, releasing Rose’s hair and taking a step back, his eyes bugging out and grabbing at his throat.

  Rose blinks in surprise that Matos backs off so quickly, but pressing her advantage, she takes a half step forward and kicks him in the crotch as hard as she can. He sees it coming and tried to turn to block, but this time he is too slow. Her foot connects squarely with his testicles and he screams in pain, falling to his knees, his throat forgotten as he grips himself with his hands.

  Joseph hears Amalia gasp in surprise as Hector goes to his knees. He grabs the hand at his throat and twists it painfully backwards, snatching the knife from her grip. He rolls, holding her by the head, flipping her over his hip then twisting around to come up behind her, the knife now held at her throat.

  Rose want to follow up on her successful kick to the nuts, but she is so shocked at her sudden change in fortunes she doesn’t know what to do. The punch to the throat was just a wild-ass guess on her part, and everyone knows kicking a guy in the balls is going to put him down, but what now? Before she can decide on her next move, a scrambling movement on her left catches her eye and Joseph has the knife to Amalia’s throat.

  All the guns in the room are suddenly pointed at them. “Drop the guns or I’ll cut her throat,” Joseph says quietly.

  “Kill them,” Matos wheezes as he tries straighten and get to his feet.

  “Papa!” Amalia cries out.

  “Kill all…” Matos begins, but before he can finish Rose hears gunshots outside. The gunmen hesitate a moment, then turn, moving toward the door and the gunfire, weapons at the ready, as the rest of the crowd begins to scramble for safety.

  Rose turns and kicks her leg backwards, driving her heel into Matos’ face as hard as she can as he slowly gets to his feet. Blood explodes from Hector Matos’ ruined nose and he topples over backwards. “Not so fucking tough now, are you? You fucking bastard!” Rose screams as all her fear and rage come pouring out of her. “Not so fucking tough now!” She steps to his side and stomps down on Hector’s manhood like she is kicking a bike to life. Though his hands are still wrapped around his member, he shrieks at the impact, rolling to his side and curling into the fetal position.

  “How’s that for no holds barred fucking?” Rose screams again, kicking him hard in the ribs. Joseph watches, saying nothing as Rose rages, letting her get it out of her system, letting her have her justice. “You fuck!” she screams again, kicking him one more time before backing off, panting.

  The gunfire is much closer now, and one of the men makes the last mistake of his life by opening the door. As he falls back, another gunman steps into the door, his weapon splitting the night with light and sound as the machine pistol roars. Rose watches as he jerks back, falling to the tile floor. The third gunman sprays the door with a brief burst of gunfire then begins to back toward Matos. He walks backwards, crouching against the wall, but the moment he steps away from the wall he jerks and falls, his shirt instantly soaking with blood.

  Rose crouches with Joseph and Amalia for several minutes, listening to the sharp pops of gunfire intermixed with the occasional buzz of a machine pistol. Finally, less than five minutes after she had first dropped her robe, there is silence. Knife still at Amalia’s throat, they wait for the final act of the drama to play out.

  A moment later, a crouching Steven and Danny burst into the house, pistols up and at the ready as they scan for threats, several mor
e Nines following in their wake, all armed, some with pistols, others with shotguns. “Clear!” Steven and Danny call at very nearly the same moment. The Nines fan out around the room as Rose and Joseph sigh in relief.

  “Sorry it took so long,” Steven says with a smile. “Danny has never been to El Paso and he wanted do some sight-seeing.” He looks at a very nude Rose, and the equally nude Hector Matos lying on the cushions. “Did we interrupt?”

  “Yes, thank God!” Rose says, hiding behind Joseph as much as possible, taking the offered robe from Steven and slipping it on.

  “What the fuck was going on in here?” Danny asks as the three rise to their feet.

  “Señor Matos made the mistake of tangling with Athena. She put him on his ass,” Joseph says, holding his hand out to Steven. Taking the weapon from Steven he turns and fires one bullet into the head of Hector Matos, then takes Amalia by the arm and pulls her to him, putting the weapon to her head.

  “You said you loved me,” Amalia whines plaintively.

  “I lied,” he replies before pulling the trigger and allowing her to fall. He hands the weapon back to Steven, who takes it without comment. “There are a bunch of people hiding somewhere in the house. Find them, but don’t kill them unless you have to. I’m taking Rose to get some clothes.”

  “You shot them in cold blood,” Rose murmurs as she follows him up the stairs to the bedrooms.

  “That’s right,” he says without a hint of remorse in his voice.

  Rose wants to be shocked and horrified, but she can’t. She would have shot them herself if she were given the chance. “Thank you.”

  Joseph smiles slightly as they walk into a palatial bedroom with an enormous bed. As he shows her Amalia’s closet, Rose wonders if he and Amalia had made love on that bed. She doesn’t want to ask, but she has to know. “Did you make love to her again?”

  “I never made love to her, Rose.”

  “Did you fuck her again, then.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “How many times?”

  “Rose…”

  “Please… I have to know.”

  “Three. Once you saw, then twice more. Does it matter?”

  “No. She was very beautiful...”

  “Yes… on the outside. But not inside. Not like you. You’re beautiful on the outside, and even more so on the inside.”

  Rose stands, looking at him. He looks so sad and she can feel her face crinkle as she begins to weep, falling into his arms.

  He holds her, allowing her to cry, pressing his face into her hair as his own tears leak from his eyes. He has hurt her so much. “I’m so sorry, Rose, for everything. For coming back into your life, for dragging you into this. I should have never come back…”

  “No… don’t say that…” she gasps, cutting him off. “Never say that. Despite everything, I’m so thankful to have you in my life.”

  He can’t take it anymore and breaks, his shoulders heaving as he sobs, holding her tight. “Can you ever forgive me, Rose?”

  She can barely breathe, he holds her so tight, but she wants to be held tighter still, pulling him to her as fiercely as he does her. They weep a moment, overcome by their sense of relief and the ordeal they have been through. “I forgive you, Joseph,” she says as she sniffs, knowing he needs to hear the words. “Will you forgive me for…”

  “Shhh…” he shushes, cutting her off as he loosens his embrace. “I will forgive you of anything. But there is nothing to forgive here.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “You’re going to get dressed and then we will decide what to do next.”

  Rose peruses Amalia’s closet. Amalia is a bit taller and thicker than she is, but her clothes fit well enough with a little tucking and turning up of sleeve and cuff. She may have been a complete bitch, but she did have good taste in clothes. Dressed, she and Joseph return to the main part of the house to find a group of people herded into a corner.

  Joseph and Rose quickly sort through the group, sending the nude and seminude women to get dressed, then get on their way… or stay and join the fate of those left behind. The two dead bodies of Amalia and Hector, shot through the head, are enough to convince the women that staying would be detrimental to their well-being.

  “Steven,” Joseph says, calling his second in command away from watching the remaining group.

  “What is it?”

  “I have this crazy idea.”

  “Crazier than going up against the Matos Cartel?”

  “Maybe. What do you think of taking over? To secure a stable supply?”

  “You’re shitting me!”

  “No. What do you think?”

  “You’re right. That is crazier than going up against the cartel.”

  “Hear me out. Just like we cleaned up our organization, we could do the same here. We would have a stable supply, and we could supply others that would like to clean up their organization and get away from all the violence.”

  “That’s a hell of a leap,” Steven says dubiously.

  “Yes. But five years ago, Duck would have said the same thing about the Nine Devils.”

  “Yes, but Duck is dead.”

  “Yes, but he died fighting for what he believed in. If I’m going to go, that is how I want to do it. Trying to make a difference.”

  “What’s your play?”

  “We make a clean break. We have taken the head with Matos. Like the Nines, those that will join us, that will play by our rules, stay. Those that can’t… Anyway, I need someone I can trust to run the supply. Someone that won’t be easily corrupted.”

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Steven asks.

  “Because if we do this, I want you to take control. You have no family in Eagle Valley. Nothing to tie you there.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” Steven asks with a grin.

  “No. I need you. I need you to do this. I can’t trust anyone else. Only you have the experience to do this.”

  Steven stares at Joseph for a long moment. “Okay. We can try. But don’t you abandon me down here, you son of a bitch. I expect to see you at least four times a year.”

  Joseph extends his hand. “Deal.”

  They shake, then fall into a hug, slapping each other on the back before backing off and shaking hands again. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I know. That’s why I asked you to do it. Now, let’s go clean house.”

  While Steven quickly gets his men set, Joseph looks over the cowering group. “My name, if you don’t know, is Joseph Warner. I’m the head of the Nine Devils. We are taking over this operation.” He waits for the murmur to die down. “If you are not a member of the Matos Cartel, step over there,” he says pointing to where several Nines are standing, shotguns in hand. “If you are straight with me, you won’t be harmed. If you lie to me, you will be killed on the spot. If you are a member of the Matos Cartel, and attempt to sneak out with the non-members, you will be killed on the spot. Do I make myself clear? Each of you has a chance to walk out of here alive so long as you don’t lie to me. If you don’t understand English, have someone translate for you what I have said. Now, separate.”

  It takes only a moment for the groups to separate. Joseph looks carefully into the face of each member of the group that is not part of the Matos Cartel. “I warned you,” he says, dragging a man out of the group, a man he has seen in carrying a weapon on the estate.

  “¡Espera! Espere. No entendía! I didn’t understand what you said!” the man cries.

  “Then how did you know which group to go to?” Joseph asks, putting his weapon to the man’s head and pulling the trigger. He falls dead. “This is what happens when you lie to me. Anyone else going to lie to me?” He watches as everyone shakes their head no.

  “Who are you?” he asks a man stands stubbornly opposite of him.

  “I’m the fucker that is going to kill you!” the man snarls back.

  Joseph places his weapon under the man’s chin. “I
s that so? Then I should kill you now? Or are you mistaken? Because I know you wouldn’t lie to me.”

  The man quickly realizes he is mistaken. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”