“Preacher’s Road Chief beat me to it. Snagged that shit ’fore I even heard about it.”
Reaper’s expression went glacial. “You’re such a fuckin’ fuck up. Shoulda made Cas VP. Shoulda had that fuckin’ cunt of whore get ridda ya.”
His mother had been a whore—not a streetwalker but a club whore. She was sixteen when his father knocked her up, his old man nearly thirty. After he was born, his old man kicked her to the curb with nothing but the clothes on her back. All he’d ever had of his mother was a gritty picture of a very young girl sitting on his old man’s Harley; Olivia Martin was written on the back. He liked to think that she started a new life somewhere else with someone who was nothing like his old man. Found some peace and a family who loved her.
His younger brother, Cas, was the product of another knocked-up whore. Same story, different day.
For twenty-three years, he’d been putting up with his shit. He had enough. Pushing out of his chair he stood up, placed his palms on the table, and leaned forward.
“Nobody—and when I say nobody, I mean fuckin’ everybody—gives two fucks about what happens to you, you miserable shit. The club respects their Prez, but not one of your boys gives a fuck whether you live or die. You got life, old man, and I been runnin’ shit in your absence. And seein’ as I been runnin’ shit a fuck of a lot better than you, I don’t have to come here. But I do outta fuckin’ respect, and I just lost the last shred of respect I had left.”
“You little shit,” Reaper hissed. “You’re gonna pay—”
“No. You’re gonna pay. Puttin’ the cash up for bids the minute I walk outta here.”
Fear flashed through his old man’s eyes. He’d never seen anything sweeter.
“Remember, you piece-of-shit fuck, when you’re bleedin’ out that it was me who fuckin’ ordered it.”
He turned away before his old man could say another word and strode through Rikers visiting room breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest, determined to end that man.
“Deuce!” A little voice squealed. He turned.
Eva was gunning for him. Just before she reached him, she came skidding to a stop, breathing heavy, and thrust her hand out. “Didn’t get to share with you,” she said breathlessly.
He bent down and closed his hand around a small bag of peanuts.
His throat closed up.
This kid, this little fucking kid who didn’t know him at all, had just given him his first gift with nothing expected in return, no favors, no stipulations, no nothing. He’d been wrong. There was something sweeter than seeing fear in his old man’s eyes. Eva was far sweeter. If he ever had a kid, he wanted a kid like this one.
“Thanks, darlin’,” he said hoarsely.
“Will I ever see you again?” She cocked her head to the side, wide-eyed, waiting for his response. He stared into her eyes, her phenomenal eyes that were too big for her face. Big and smoky gray like a thunderstorm. Fucking beautiful.
He smiled. “Hope so, sweetheart.”
She gave him a killer cute grin and bounced back to her old man and uncle—who were staring daggers at him—shakin’ those pigtails.
After shoving the peanuts in his pocket, he left. First street payphone he saw, he posted the hit. It took all of an hour, and he had a buyer. Three days later, his old man bled out in the showers.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Emmy Montes was born in Puerto Rico but was raised in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She currently resides in Philadelphia with her husband, Alex, and their English bulldog. She has a Bachelor of Science degree in Legal Studies. She works full time as a paralegal for a mid-sized law firm. Although she loves the legal field, writing was always her passion.
Her love for books began with the Goosebumps series as a child. After that, she read anything and everything from poetry to short stories. She was passionate about the fictional world and intrigued by the way an author could pull you into a story with just simple words. As a hobby, she started writing her own poetry, daily journal entries, and short stories.
She actually dreamed of being a journalist and even went as far as researching colleges to earn a degree in Journalism. At the time, major newspaper companies and magazines were having budgets cut, and after careful thought, she settled on another major. When she finished her degree, she felt as if something were missing. She continued to write for several years, working on different story ideas, but never finished. Disastrous was her first completed novel.
Connect with Me Online
Email: [email protected]
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Cautious (Sequel to Disastrous) Page 25
