Reckoning

by Elizabeth Knox

  I texted Junior with the address, hoping that he would come sooner rather than later. I won’t lie, seeing Sergei fucked with my head in more ways than I care to admit. There was a big difference in communicating with him via text or email versus seeing him face to face. I thought I could handle it. Never did I think that I would be this weak. There are still so many feelings there, feelings of hatred and anger, sorrow and hurt. I worry that I will never say my peace to him, even if I want to more than anything on this planet.

  A harsh rap comes to the door. I startle, sit up quickly from my seat on the couch, and walk towards it, already seeing the man clad in leather that I hoped would show. I open the door, looking him once over. “You know I am not deaf, yes?” I growl.

  “Maybe I was just looking to irritate you a little bit,” he snickers, pulling his hand up with a bag in it.

  “What’s that?” I ask, curious as the smell engulfs my nostrils.

  Chicken Parmesan. I can smell it.

  “Italian. Didn’t really know what you like, so I got a Chicken Parm and a Ziti. Figured you’d eat one of ‘em.” Junior wraps his arm around my waist and walks through the door, pulling it shut with the hand he holds the food in.

  “Ah. You brought me dinner. Is this a date?” I ask him.

  “If you consider dates fucking, then yeah, it’s a date, Viper.”

  I laugh at his crass nature. Yes, I wanted him here, so I could fuck him, yet I wanted his presence. The way he seemed to make me feel was still something I was getting used to. It was so different. I didn’t feel like an object, or an asset. I felt like a real live person, and that hasn’t been anything that I have experienced much of with a man. I had always felt more like a thing, an item if you will.

  Junior let go of my hip and walked to the small kitchenette, pulling on cabinet doors until he found plates and silver wear. He opens the bag of food and starts putting an equal amount of salad, breadsticks, chicken parmesan, and ziti on each plate. Next, he went to the fridge and opened it, pulling out a bottle of red wine that I had bought in town earlier today. When he finished pouring the glasses he walked over to the bay window that has a small seating area on it and sat the glasses down on the small bit of wood that was uncovered. Then he went back grabbing our plates and sat down on the pillows, kicking his boots off in the process, lugging one leg across the seat and leaving the other hanging off.

  “What are you doing? You gonna stand there all day and stare? C’mon, dig in.” He ushers the plate in my direction, and I walk over, taking it from him.

  “You want us to sit here to eat?” I ask, unsure of why he wants us to sit at something that isn’t the table.

  “Yeah?” He looks at me dumbfounded, and instead of explaining my story, I sit across from him. Once I’m seated comfortably, he pulls up his other leg and sets it on the other side of me, trapping me in one way, but making me feel secured in another.

  Both of us dig into the food in front of us. I didn’t think that a small town such as this would have such food. To say I am pleasantly surprised is an understatement. We both clear our plates in no time, and then Junior takes them to the sink and washes them, bringing me back more red wine. We sit in the window and drink, and suddenly I start to laugh. There is no doubt that the wine is finally starting to get to me.

  “What you laughin’ so hard at?” He grins wide as he asks me, and instead of telling him I laugh harder.

  “You just… don’t seem much like a man who would appreciate a good Cabernet Sauvignon,” I explain, going further, “You look like a man who only likes shitty American beer.”

  “I do. I like both of them, I’m not real picky, sweetheart. If it has liquor, I’m pretty much bound to drink it, but I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t appreciate quality product, and knowing you, you got the good stuff.”

  “You don’t know me, though,” I tell him.

  “I know enough,” he replies coolly. “You’re beautiful, smart, the most gorgeous thing that I’ve seen in a really long fucking time and you’ve got a hard past.”

  “I have a hard present,” I inform him, wishing that it was just the past that haunted me.

  “We all do, in a way. There’s no sugar coating that shit,” he responds, and it makes me respect him a little bit more. “What’s so hard about your present?” His question throws me off a little bit, I didn’t expect it at all.

  I know that I don’t have to tell him everything, although I want to tell him. What exactly does that make me? Dumb? Isn’t it dumb to put so much trust into someone so early? Or is this normal?

  “I have to work with my ex-husband who I hate more than anything on this planet.” My tone is bionic, robotic is a light way of putting it.

  His eyes go wide, and he smiles. “Ex-husband?”

  “Da,” I respond automatically, finally correcting to “Yes. I mean yes.”

  “I understand why others hate him so much, knowing who he is. I’m just curious as to why you do. You did marry him after all.” I almost want to respond back that marrying him wasn’t a choice of my own free will, it was something that I knew I had to do to ensure not only my survival but Ksenia’s as well. I wiggled my way into his cold, dead heart. I did what needed to be done. Fuck, I always did.

  “He killed our child.” I say it bluntly, putting the heavy glass of wine to my lips and taking a long sip. In this moment, I wish I was drinking something stronger. I needed something much stronger than this wine.

  I don’t look at Junior, honestly, I do not want to. I want to sip on my wine and forget what I just said, to wipe it from my memory so I no longer had to feel the pain any longer. Still, the tears hit the back of my eyelids, and I can feel my throat tightening.

  I needed to accept that the pain of what Sergei did to me would never go away. It would constantly suffocate me day after day until I could either live with it or decide that breathing wasn’t worth it anymore.

  “That’s some heavy shit.” At that moment I glance up, the sun is coming down over the hill, and the way the light hits him, it reminds me of my previous thought. He is an angel. “Don’t let him hurt you anymore. It’s in the past, he can’t fucking touch you. You can’t let him hurt you anymore by thinking about it, wondering if there was something you could have done differently. I used to think about Veronica all the time, and how things could have ended up different. How I might have been able to change shit. There’s no use in doing it, Katya. There’s no fucking point. Don’t lie to me, have you wondered how I ended up like this?” He points to his face, the marred left side where his skin is permanently damaged.

  I nod once.

  “I used to be with a club, and those people meant more to me than anything. I had a friend named Veronica, and she was sick, I mean real fucking sick. She had terminal cancer, and her old man was making her take treatments even though the doctors told her it wouldn’t work, that one way or another the cancer would kill her. She was tired of living, and one night she came into my room while I was asleep and slept on the bed next to me. I woke up to the sound of my gun going off.”

  My eyes bulge from my head, waiting to hear the rest of the story. “She shot herself in the head with my gun, the one I left on my bedside table. Her death was my fault, and it fucked with me. It still does. There wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think about that shit, and last year I happened to cross paths with someone who she meant a lot to. That motherfucker Chuckles took it in his own hands to decide that I needed to pay a price, doing this to me. Making me match my road name, Slasher. I sure look like a fucking Slasher now, don’t I?” He laughs at the last sentence, wiping his hand across his face.

  “No, you don’t. You look beautiful,” I tell him, strongly believing every single word.

  “I’m a lot of things, sweetheart, but beautiful ain’t one of them.”

  “You are to me,” I say, taking another sip of wine.

  Chapter 19

  Madness is like gravity, all it needs is a little push. - Anony
mous

  Slasher

  Never in my life have I been called beautiful. Dick. Ass. Motherfucker. But never beautiful. I’m not sure how to take what she’s saying. All I know is that I need to take it as a compliment, cause the way this shit warms my heart is unnatural. It makes me happy that she said that about me. How fucked is that? Fuck. It’s like the woman gives me the damn butterflies or some shit. There’s been no denying my attraction to her, but this is different. It feels different.

  I stare at her, the sun has been slowly setting over the last twenty or so minutes. There’s this orange hue fading over her, lighting her up in the most beautiful way. She looks like a damn goddess. I’ve seen some hot chicks throughout my days, but Katya is different. Her kind of beauty holds no bounds.

  “You just want me to fuck you, don’t you? Giving me all these compliments,” I joke, taking my hand back through my black hair.

  “Yes. That’s it.” She laughs, smiling as she takes another sip of wine. If I was right, the wine was getting to her a little bit. No lie, it had been getting to me.

  “All you had to do was ask, Viper,” I growl, leaning towards her just a little bit.

  “Why would I ask when we both know you will just give it to me anyways?” she counters, causing me to chuckle lightly. I grab her thighs, yanking her towards me. The wine spills over her chest, and she makes a gasp as it seeps into her sheer cream-colored sweater. I continue pulling her towards me until I have her seated on my lap, knowing that she can feel my rock-hard cock under my jeans. I press my lips to her skin, right where the V of her sweater comes down, dragging my tongue slowly across her, licking up the spilled wine.

  She pulls her lightweight sweater off, leaving her in just a lace bra and pair of black pants that hug her curves like no other. I take my hands over her bra, still licking over her skin. Every time she gasps, she gets me more and more excited to sink my length deep inside her.

  I pull the cups of her bra down, letting her soft brown nipples pop free. Slowly I bring my mouth to one, then the other, giving each a bit of attention. I roll my tongue around the soft nub, teasing until she squirms on my lap, and then I bite, reveling in the moan that spills out of her lips. “Fuck me, Junior,” she begs. I want to, so fucking bad.

  I yank down on her pants, and she slips one leg out and then the other. Tossing them to the floor next to us, I take my hand and rub her outer lips, taunting and teasing her as much as I possibly can. She rubs herself against me like a cat in heat, purring only for me. “You want me inside you, is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want me to fuck you like you’re mine?” I ask, staring into those light gray eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Good baby, cause you are, and you’d better not forget that shit.” I unbutton my pants, pulling my cock out and slam her down on it in no time. No way will I let her forget what I just said. I want her to remember it, to crave me like an addict craves a hit. Whatever this is between us, it isn’t fucking going away, and I’ll be damned if I allow it to.

  Katya is mine.

  “Fuck!” she screams, holding onto my shoulders as she grinds up and down along my length while I pump into her harder and harder. Both of us meet each other in fast, quick movements. She’s so fucking wet, like she’s been thinking about this all-day long. If she hasn’t, I sure as fuck have. I slide my hands behind her, pushing her body against the back of the cushion as I drive into her. I wrap my hands around her neck and watch as she stares, biting her lip, moaning my fucking name. Her eyes roll back, pussy tightening around my cock every time I hit that certain special spot inside of her.

  Fuck yes, this bitch is mine. “Say it.”

  “I’m yours,” she moans, digging her fake nails into the cushion beneath her. I slam into her, hard and fast so we can both hear my balls slapping against her ass. The moans passing her lips grow louder and louder as the wetness starts to spill from her slowly. She’s on the verge, and I can fucking feel it.

  “Who do you belong to?” I ask her.

  “No one,” she snarls, looking at me like I’m Lucifer himself.

  I grind against her g-spot one more time until she’s coming around my cock. I pour into her shortly after, both of our juices spilling onto the cushion below us. I fall against her, heavily breathing against her neck until I can catch my breath. I slowly slip out of her, taking my pants off and leaving them on the floor as I lift her up into my arms and walk her around the small house, once I see the stairs, I head up them. When I see the bed, I am happy as fuck, pulling the comforter up and slipping both of us underneath it.

  She turns over to me, eyes glossy. “I like you, more than I care to admit, but we will have this discussion now. I do not belong to you. I am not some toy for you to fuck and use as you please. I am a person.”

  “No, baby. You’re so much more than that. I take care of what’s mine, do you understand?” I tell her, pressing my nose against hers.

  Her eyes don’t waver from mine, and I know exactly what it is that’s bothering her. “I’m not your ex-husband.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then stop thinking I am,” I grumble, pressing a sensual kiss to her lips. She opens instantly, and I slide my hand over her ass, squeezing hard. Our tongues dance for a few minutes, her grinding her body up against mine. My arms pulling her closer towards me with every waking minute.

  She takes her lips off mine. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  I put my index finger over her lips, “Ssshh, Viper. It’s alright. C’mon, let’s get some rest.”

  Chapter 20

  There’s a message in the way a man treats you. Just listen… - R.H. Sin

  Slasher

  I spent most of the next morning with Katya at the house, cooking her breakfast and talking with her about her past. There was more behind the surface, and I wanted to know as much as I could, and as much that she was willing to tell me.

  From the sounds of it, her life has never really been easy. There were parts during our discussion where she went all quiet over a few minutes and then picked up where she was speaking. Personally, I think she didn’t want to get emotional about her past. There’s no doubt that she’s been through a hell of a lot, and she’s a strong woman because of it all.

  I already knew she was Ksenia and Dmitri’s sister. I just didn’t know the background on everything that had happened to her. If you were an outsider looking on to Katya and I, you’d probably think it was odd for her to be sharing such personal things with me. I would to, but it’s not just her sharing. I’m finding myself wanting to tell her parts about my past as well. I haven’t told her everything, but she’s getting some pretty deep shit, into my fucked-up life.

  She gave me a brief rundown about her childhood, how her father was murdered and then how her mother sold Dmitri, I guess thinking that it would somehow save the three of them. I couldn’t understand how anyone could do that to a child, especially a mother. I didn’t really like Dmitri in the first place. We’ve had our past issues, but now I guess I understand a little bit why he is the way he is.

  A few years later their mother’s luck ran out, and she ended up selling Katya and Ksenia the same way that she sold Dmitri, only the girls ended up in a different place – in the middle of a sex trafficking operation. Katya explained to me how she did everything she could to keep her and Ksenia safe, ultimately ending up with Sergei and marrying him.

  I had respect for the woman in the first place, but now I have something else. Something so much stronger than respect. Everything she has been through blows my mind. Most people would be looking for pity being through the shit that she went through, and she uses it as her shield. She is a tough bitch, and I couldn’t be prouder to have her as my girl. Last night, I didn’t realize how bad I had fucked up. When I told her that she belonged to me, it reminded of her a time where she was a slave. The last thing I ever wanted to do was remind her of that. I only wanted her to feel safe with me. I sure as fuck did
n’t want her to think she was an object or fuck toy, or whatever else she was thinking.

  Most of the day passes as I’m in the Reapers clubhouse catching up with the brothers, keeping a close eye on my phone to see if she’s going to text me. We didn’t really talk about how long she or I were going to be here, but I think we both knew that I’d be spending as much time with her as possible. I just needed to keep up appearances.

  I’m sipping on a bud light lime when Camila struts on up over to me, leaning across the bar much like her sister does back at Bubba’s. The move was so familiar, you’d swear they were the same person.

  “You know Maria, right?” she asks, her accent thick, but understandable.

  I nod, taking a long drag of my beer.

  “How is she? Can you tell me that?”

  “What do you want to know, kiddo? I’ll tell you anything that I can.” As soon as I finish she is smiling. It’s been quite a while since they’ve seen each other, and it looks like Camila knows where Maria is, but Maria doesn’t have a fucking clue that Camila is safe. For a second, I wonder why Reed hasn’t said anything to Maria… it doesn’t take me more than a second to realize that Maria would haul ass up here if she knew, and that would be a risk to both of them. Reed wouldn’t compromise anyone’s safety. He’s too good of a man for that.

  “She’s doing good, she’s a spitfire much like yourself, but given everything I’d say she’s good. She has friends, a lot of us look at her like a sister now. She’s catty, helps a lot. She misses you too,” I add at the end, trying to give Camila as much information as possible while not saying too much.

  “I hate not being able to see her… not being able to call her… I miss her so much. She is my family, you know? The Reapers are my family too, but it’s different. Maria is my familia, my blood.”

  “I get it, kid. Trust me. I get it.”

  Camila and I chat at the bar for the next hour, and I tell her story after story about her sister and the bullshit she pulls at the Skulls. By the end of our conversation Camila is laughing with tears in her eyes. “Thank you for sharing with me. It is good to hear about the hell she is bringing down on all of you. Shows me that she is really doing okay.”