by J. L. Leslie
“Not really. No speeding tickets or outstanding fines. He’s been a successful real estate agent for six years, selling mostly commercial properties and a few mansions to the elite.”
“Do we know anyone who’s made the purchases?”
I start to answer him that we don’t when there’s a knock on the door. Harco peeks his head inside and hands me a few pieces of paper. I skim over the articles and smile.
“Looks like Rutledge has a weakness for the fairer sex,” I tell Lucien, handing him the papers.
“Don’t we all?” he jokes.
“His buyers are mostly female.”
Lucien shrugs. “Could be a coincidence.”
“No,” I shake my head. “The man’s a fucking pervert. If he’s selling to women, it’s because he’s getting something in return. I would bet he broke other contracts for whatever favors they give to him.”
“You think Mackenzie knew that and used that to her advantage?”
An image of her bent over that man’s desk burst into my mind, and it takes me a moment before I can reply. “I wouldn’t put anything past Hell’s Fury.”
“Harco!” Lucien yells, and the man is back in moments, no doubt listening at the door to see if his intel was worth anything. “Can you see if there was any surveillance or security cameras inside the real estate agency, specifically in the offices?”
“That’s one way to find out,” I tell Lucien once Harco closes the door. “But we need a plan on how to handle this should they be preparing for an attack.”
“I’ll handle it,” he assures me.
“Let’s see what we find and if he sold us out for a piece of ass, take Reid and pay Mr. Rutledge a friendly visit.”
I head to my room, lighting a cigarette as I walk, and patiently wait for Harco to find something. When I open my door, I find Sabrina. She’s lying back on the bed, her legs spread open with a prospect eating her pussy.
“Baby,” she purrs. “Come join us.”
The man stops his licking and stares up at me, fear evident on his face. It’s clear this rendezvous in my room wasn’t his idea. He’s pledging the club, a prospect of the lowest ranks, and he’s in my room, fucking around with who he believes to be my old lady.
I nod my head toward the door, letting him know he’s worn out his welcome. He scrambles to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’re no fun,” Sabrina pouts. “I brought him in here for us to play with.”
“You can go too,” I let her know, jerking her off my bed.
“Fuck, she was right,” Sabrina hisses, shoving my chest. “She ruined you.”
I glare at her. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Her face pales, realization that she’s said too much hitting her. “I don’t…I don’t know,” she replies. “You never want to fuck anymore, and there has to be a reason for that! Another woman!”
She acts as though she made that statement to be spiteful. That there is no truth to it. The terror in her eyes tells me she’s lying, and I know only one woman who would have told her something like that.
Mackenzie.
“Got something,” Harco says, standing in my doorway. His eyes stray to Sabrina’s naked body, clearly appreciating her curves.
“Do not leave this room,” I warn Sabrina. “This conversation isn’t fucking over.”
I follow Harco out, and he shows me surveillance footage he found. I’m curious to know if Rutledge knew he was being recorded while Mackenzie jacked his dick.
“So, he’s granting favors in exchange for favors,” Lucien muses.
“Why don’t we give him what he wants then?” I suggest and tell them to hold on a minute. I go back to my room, finding Sabrina there snorting a line of coke. “We have a job for you.”
Mackenzie
It’s difficult for me to muster any sympathy, although our pledge sits at Donia’s kitchen table bawling her eyes out. She’s an excellent actress, and if it weren’t for the valuable intel she provided to us on the Jiminez attack, I would have already cut her off. She’s not Hell’s Fury material. She’s a club whore and will never be anything more.
“We can use this to our advantage,” I state, and Sabrina looks up at me with puffy eyes. “Warren wants you to do a job for the Sinners, right? That’s fine, do it, but it won’t be for them.”
Donia taps her fingertips on the table and nods her head. “That’s true, Sabrina. When you meet with Mr. Rutledge, there’s no need for him to know the Sinners are who sent you.”
“I don’t want to do it all!” she argues. “He’s using me as if I mean nothing to him!”
“You don’t!” I snap. “And don’t start acting holier than thou when we all know that is not the case. Do your fucking job for us or go back to the Sinners, sucking dick and taking it in the ass whenever they demand!”
Her hand shakes as she wipes her eyes. Damn good actress. “I love Warren though. I’m his old lady.”
I roll my eyes dramatically. “Does he know that?”
After my one night with him, Sabrina sought me out. Claimed he called her by my name and didn’t even realize it. She wanted revenge, pissed that he would betray her. I’m certain it didn’t cross her mind how many times she’s slept with other men because I know women like her.
I rubbed it in, told her that I ruined him for her, for all women, and for her not to ever contact me again. I was done with him and with her.
Next thing I know, Donia calls me to a private meeting and Sabrina was there. She behaved as though we’d never met before. Told Donia she was being forced into her role as a club whore and had always been in that position against her will. She asked for sanctuary in the form of pledging as a prospect for Hell’s Fury. Begged for us to help her, give her the opportunity to be the woman she knew she could be.
Donia accepted her pledge, granted that she could provide us with intel. She did her part, but she will never be anything other than what she is even if she eventually manages to get patched in.
“If I do this, I want to be made a member,” Sabrina says, looking over to Donia. “No more of this pledging as a prospect bullshit. This will earn me member status.”
“You complete the job, and I’ll be the one to make that decision,” Donia replies, and her eyes flicker to me.
She has no intention of making Sabrina a member. She is good for intel on the Sinners, and when that intel runs out, we no longer need her around.
Chapter Eight
Warren
I eye Sabrina, dressed in attire she wouldn’t be caught dead in otherwise. Her black hair is twisted into a tight bun at her nape, the pink streaks unable to be hidden, but it gives her look a naughty edge. One I’m certain Rutledge will enjoy.
“You like this look, don’t you?” she asks me, licking her lips and eyeing my crotch.
I swear, this bitch is a fucking sex addict. If I didn’t think my dick was broken, I’d take her up on it, but I have zero desire to stick my cock in any of Sabrina’s holes ever again.
“You understand what you’re supposed to do, right?” I question her, and she nods.
“Persuade this Rutledge guy that selling the properties to me is in his best interest,” she answers. “Trust me, I’ll fuck him so good, he won’t remember his own damn name.”
Having Sabrina sign the contracts is a risk, but once the properties are in her name, we’ll have everything transferred. If she went in begging the man to put the contracts under a man’s name, especially one he previously met with, he would be suspicious.
We need these properties, and we need them quick. If Hell’s Fury goes around snatching them up, we lose our storage space, and they gain the upper hand. We can’t continue to keep our product in a compromised warehouse, and we can’t underestimate them and their need for vengeance.
“I haven’t forgotten that little remark you made,” I tell her, and her face pales.
She made it so casually, popping off at the mouth, and if
I hadn’t gotten distracted by Harco, I would have grilled her about it. Demanded that she explain herself. Instead, I let it go, deciding on another course of action.
“You know I didn’t mean anything by it,” she assures me. “I miss you, that’s all.”
I reach for the box on the dresser and open it up, revealing a silver necklace with a diamond pendant hanging from it. Her eyes light up, just like I knew they would.
“I know,” I reply, hanging the necklace around her neck and securing it.
She touches it with her fingertips, evidently pleased with my gift. Good. I want her to believe I’m apologetic for my behavior. That she’s done nothing wrong; it’s me who needs forgiveness.
Sabrina turns around and touches my cheek, a loving gesture, and I almost buy it. If she hadn’t made that statement about Mackenzie, I wouldn’t be questioning her loyalty to me.
“I’ll walk you out,” I tell her, taking her hand.
As we head through the clubhouse, I snatch the keys to the Suburban off the key rack and hand them to her. I pretend as though I’m going to the gym, wishing her luck before she drives off.
I go straight to my bike, waiting a few minutes before I follow behind her. By the time I reach the agency, Sabrina is already inside. I park around back so that I don’t bring attention to myself and pull my helmet off, placing the listening device into my ear so that I can hear what goes on.
She thought the necklace I gave her was a present. Fuck that. It was the only way I could find out the truth. Find out if Sabrina is with me, or against me.
I cross my arms, still seated on my bike, and listen as she talks to Rutledge. She’s pouring it on thick, giving him compliments and playing her part perfectly. She’s barely in there a half hour and has him eating out of the palm of her hand, promising to give her whatever properties she wants.
Then it happens. What I feared the most.
Sabrina doesn’t ask him to put the properties in her name like she was ordered to do. She asks him to put them in Maria Vanderwaal’s name.
The fucking bitch is working with Hell’s Fury!
Mackenzie
I check my phone and roll my eyes at how needy Sabrina is. At least she’ll never make it into the club. I wouldn’t be able to stand being around her for our weekly meetings.
It’s bad enough that I have to sit in the same room with Harper after what she did to us. I’d blow my fucking brains out if I had to deal with Sabrina on a weekly basis.
Before I respond to her, I call Donia. Although I’m the VP for Hell’s Fury, with everything that’s happened lately, I like to check in with her before making any decisions that affect the club.
“If she wants to meet, then meet with her,” Donia sighs. “She likes you for some reason.”
I snort at this. Sabrina only wants to be around me because we’ve both fucked Warren. It’s like she thinks we’re kindred spirits or something. I can assure her we are not.
“Fine,” I reply. “I’ll find out how things went with Mr. Rutledge.”
“Did you stop in to see Travis Taylor yet?” Donia asks me. “He called last week.”
“I’ll go soon. Our visits are being monitored, remember?”
“They still have to be made,” she scolds. “Tell you what, let Sabrina go.”
I don’t like the sound of that. If Donia is trusting her to make a drop, then that means she is trusting her to officially pledge as a prospect. That is not what we talked about.
Rather than argue with Donia about it, because I know better than to do that, I let her know I’ll make it happen and hang up.
Travis Taylor is one of our regular customers, but he only receives his shipments every quarter, which is why I believe the Sinners haven’t caught on yet that it’s time to make a delivery to him.
We never miss it and in return, Travis, who is also the head security guard over the evidence room at the police department, never minds returning a favor to us, should we ask him of one. At this point, we have not asked him for any favors. It’s good to save those for when we truly need them. As much cocaine as we’ve provided him, he owes us quite a few favors.
I shoot Sabrina a text and let her know where she can meet me. I’ll take my lunch break then. I finish up a few things at work and then head over to Donia’s. Sabrina is already there when I get there.
I will admit, I hardly recognize her in the clothes she’s wearing. Nice, black pencil skirt and red, capped sleeve shirt that fit her nicely. Her hair is fixed, and her make up is subtle, not her usual slutty look.
“You get the job done?” I ask her, cutting right to the chase.
“You see these tits? Of course, I got the job done,” she smirks.
“Good, we have another one for you,” I reply and lead her over to the storage shed.
I open it up and pull out the brick that we usually give to Travis, placing it in a small backpack before handing it to Sabrina.
“You seriously keep your product in a storage shed in Donia’s backyard?” she laughs.
I ignore her jab. “This goes to Travis at 1578 Norfolk Avenue. Tell him it’s his quarterly delivery of medicine.”
“Travis?” she asks, and I nod. “Do I collect anything or just make the drop?”
“Just make the drop.”
She puts the backpack over her shoulder. “We will seriously have to discuss my options after I do this. After all, I did let a guy fuck me in the ass.”
I highly doubt she didn’t enjoy it, but I don’t tell her that. Instead, I appease her by letting her know that Donia will call her and we’ll set up a meeting. I also tell her she did good, which makes her give me a beaming smile. You would think she never gets any praise.
“I have to get back to work,” I let her know. “Make the drop, and we’ll be in touch.”
She leaves me smiling and excited to be doing something for us. I leave with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
That’s never good.
Chapter Nine
Warren
There are two sides to Lucien McNamara. The side where he’s the man who helps Layla with her homework and who pays for medical care for Soco’s old lady, who’s expecting a baby.
Then there’s the other side to him. The side that earned him the nickname as the Revenant. The side of him that only the club gets to see.
This is the side that Rutledge has been getting a dose of.
Lucien knows that a good beating doesn’t always earn what you want. Sometimes it takes fear. Pure, old-fashioned fear.
“You took something from me, and I want it back,” Lucien growls. Lucien was pissed when things didn’t turn out like we planned with Sabrina, and he came in person to make sure the job was done properly.
I step around Lucien and Rutledge recognizes me although I’m wearing ripped jeans and a black tee instead of the khakis and button-up I was dressed in before. His eyes flicker with uncertainty.
“I’m…I don’t know what you mean.”
The blow I deliver knocks him to the floor, his briefcase busting open and the contents scattering. He thought he was coming here to our warehouse to look at the property and to list it for us.
He was wrong.
Rutledge scrambles to his feet and immediately makes a run for the exit where Wiggie and Harco are waiting. He frantically looks for another exit, but Reid and Hatcher are there. He has no way out, and he realizes it.
“You like extortion, Rutledge?” Lucien questions him, nodding for me to bring him back. “Making women do things for you, sexual favors, in exchange for properties they want?”
“Whatever this is, we can work something out!” he assures us as I drag him by his hair.
“Even if there’s a contract already in place, you can void it as long as they take care of you, right? But how long do they have to take care of you? Is this an ongoing agreement?”
“I can get you whatever property you desire!” he promises as I shove him down at Lucien’s knees.
&
nbsp; “What would your wife think about that?” Lucien asks, snapping his finger toward Reid.
Rutledge cries out in anguish when Reid brings a woman out of the shadows. She has a hood over her head, concealing her from his view, but it’s clear to him that it’s his wife. She’s wearing her clothes, her shoes. Her blonde hair even peeks out from beneath the hood.
“Dahlia!” he cries, and she screams out his name in response, struggling to reach for him.
“You never fucking thought of her while you were getting your dick jacked, did you?” I ask him, angrily, and he drops to his knees.
“Please!” he begs. “I’ll do anything!”
Reid brings the woman to the table we have set up in the middle of the room and pushes her over it, shoving her skirt over her thighs. She screams and bucks against him, desperate to escape his clutches.
“Oh, God! Please don’t do this!” Rutledge pleads, running toward them, but I stop him with a right hook.
“I’ll tell you what, my guy will only fuck your wife for the time it takes you to sign the contracts made to Maria Vanderwaal over to me,” Lucien tells him.
“I…I…” Rutledge stutters.
“Fuck it,” Lucien says and looks over to Hatcher. “You can take her ass.”
Rutledge lets out a guttural cry and starts picking up his paperwork from the floor as Reid turns the man’s wife over. She slaps and claws at him, but he only laughs while he undoes his pants and roughly tears her panties off.
It’s obvious that Rutledge is trying to ignore what’s taking place behind him, but his hands are shaking, keeping him from picking up the papers from the floor. Tears stream down his face as the woman screams when Reid impales her on his dick.
Rutledge looks back, and for a moment, he sits there crying, watching as Hatcher comes up behind her, holding her up as he starts to fuck her ass, sandwiching her between him and Reid.
“The longer you sit there wallowing in self-pity, the longer your wife gets fucked,” I tell him. “Grow a fucking pair and get this shit done.”
