by Avelyn Paige
“This is Gio Zezza. Oldest son of Don Rigo Zezza.”
Ratchet scowls, as he peers up at the man who is responsible for getting Ginny into this mess and for the necessity of faking her death. His stare makes it clear as fucking day that, if we get a shot off on this guy, he wants him to himself. And I can’t blame him. I would want the kill shot on the man who had hurt my sister. Although, my sister Remy would probably have already killed them, before I got there. She was the one who was all bitch and bite, where I was the calculating dark horse who planned, before he struck.
“I wasn’t able to track down any safe houses for The Zezza family in the area through their various shell companies, but I’m still looking.”
The amount of money going through that crime family would make Bill Gates look like a lucky lottery winner. They had hundreds of millions of dollars spread across various real and fake enterprises all over the world. They had their hands in import, export, and even the skin trade, as far as I could tell. These were the kind of bastards you didn’t want on your bad side, but here we were in the exact spot we didn’t want to be.
“Any idea on the weapons cache?” Thor asks.
“The sky is the limit with them.” Flipping through a few slides, I land on the screen I’m looking for. It has the listings off all the so-called olive oil importation logs from their cargo ship that comes in and out of Long Beach on a monthly basis.
“Their last shipment came in about two weeks ago. Manifest said it was olive oil, but we all know what the contents of those containers really are.”
“Drugs, guns, or pussy. Maybe all three.” Hero interjects into the conversation.
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner there, VP.”
“They’re armed to the teeth and moving closer to us by the day. It’s a safe bet that their toys are far better than ours. Possibly even Soviet military grade.”
“Which is why I pulled a few strings and have some new gear headed our way. It should be here in a couple of days,” Raze happily informs us. “Let’s just hope it’s not too late.”
I add in a few more bits of information, into my part of the meeting about things I had found out from Ginny directly. Gio had a penchant for high-end escorts, and I had taken the liberty of hacking into the surveillance cameras, near the more popular clubs that were rigged with facial recognition software. If he showed up, my cameras would alert me. I had also greased Red’s palms a bit to filter in any chatter from the streets straight to us. He was a slimy bastard, but he proved useful from time to time with shit like this.
“Good work, V,” Tyson offers up to the entire room.
We discuss alterative action plans for various scenarios for nearly three hours, before we finally decide to call it a day. The more practice we have the better off we’ll be in the long run.
Raze concludes our meeting with a bang of his gavel. Each of my brothers all begin to file out, except for Ratchet and myself.
“The girls doing okay?” my club president inquires, once the last man leaves the room.
“Ginny’s good. I’ve been keeping her busy and away from the news. The less she knows about those murders the better.”
“I agree, but I’m concerned about Presley. She seems off. Shed some light on that, V.”
“I’m honestly not sure what’s up, Prez. She was fine a few days ago, but has retreated a bit,” I lie.
You fucking know what is going on, dip shit. Why don’t you go ahead and fess up now? Maybe he’ll wait to kill you, until after The Zezza’s try to make us extinct.
This situation with Presley is one that might just fucking get me killed. Ratchet shoots daggers at me with his eyes. Thankfully hiding them from Raze.
“I’ll talk to her, and figure out what’s going on.”
“Good. If you need me to get involved, just tell me,” Raze heartedly concurs.
Our president shoves out of his chair and smacks Ratchet on the shoulder, as he stalks out the door. I can’t help but notice the slump of his shoulders, as he disappears from sight. He’s miserable without Darcy and the kids, and it’s clearly showing. Even more of a reason to just get this over with.
Ratchet jerks my arm, as I try to leave myself.
“What did you do?” he snarls
“I fucked up, man. She’s pining over the fucking fake me.”
I fill him in about my original plan to just ghost. He growls when I mention the fact that she has a phone, but I remind him that I can’t exactly storm into her room and demand it without outing myself in the process. It’s a hot damn mess, and I’m smack dab in the middle of the firestorm.
“Fix it,” he growls, as he stomps past me.
I would if I fucking knew how. Believe me, I would.
I leave church and head back down to my office to think about what I can do. Just as I get to the edge of my door, I spy movement in Raze’s office, through a crack in the door. I peek in and see Presley rummaging through his desk.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I yell.
She freezes and drops the papers in her hand. They float to the floor in a pile at her feet.
“I know,” she angrily reveals. “I know fucking everything.”
Voodoo’s voice cuts through the air and stops me dead in my tracks. I don’t want to look up at him, but it’s not like I can disappear like an apparition. I can feel the color drain from my face, as soon as I peer up at him. The papers that were on the top of my brother’s desk slip from my hands. No one was supposed to see me in here, looking for keys to one of the club’s daily drivers that set dormant outside in the outbuildings. I waited until they were all in church to take the risk of doing this, and what did that get me? I’m caught, and my hand is in the fucking cookie jar.
I sputter out the only thing I can think of in response of being caught in the act.
Way to be nonchalant, Presley. You could have played this off as just looking for a pen or something like that. But no, you just show your hand, before the other cards have even been turned over.
“Know what exactly?” he questions, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind him, effectively cornering me with no way out.
“I know about what has been going on here,” I sputter with the vibrations of fear dripping with every word that comes out of my mouth.
V cocks an eyebrow, but I see right through him. He’s just as scared as I am. Does he know? What has he not told me? I know that being in a motorcycle club that everything is done behind closed doors and without a woman in earshot, but that shit ends now. Not after what I just saw.
“Go on,” he urges me. “What exactly do you know?”
He inches closer to me, treating me more like an injured predator about to strike, than a woman who is petrified. V circles me slowly, making sure that he is between me and the door when he stops.
He does know. Why else would he want to prevent me from walking right out of this door and screaming at the top of my lungs? I was supposed to just keep on living ignorant to the things directly affecting me, because that’s the way the club wanted it to be. Had they even told Ginny?
“I know about the women.”
He stills, and I notice a small sigh escaping his lips, like this wasn’t what he expected me to say. Why does he seem so relieved? People are dead, and he’s relieved. He’s insane. No person in their right mind can find comfort in the death of innocent people. Maybe my original diagnosis was right after all. There should be textbooks about men in clubs like this. Abnormal psychology professors could probably teach an entire class about the psyche of a male biker.
“You know already,” I hiss, with rage beginning to course throughout my entire body. I have been very angry in my life before, but that was nowhere close to how I felt right now. I’m pissed because I let my guard down, enough to think that this was an even playing field. That the club was my partner in this, instead of my controllers. How stupid I have been.
“I do.”
The rage inside of me tak
es over my mouth, before I can stop it.
“You hid this from me. Are you fucking kidding me right now, V? I thought you and I were a team on this, but you kept me in the dark. I had to find out about it on the news.”
“Team?” he fires back, anger clear as day on his face. “You came to us for help. That’s exactly what we are trying to do. Nowhere in that agreement was the bullet point for sharing all the information. You left it up to us to take care of this issue. There were no terms.”
Seeing the news report, about the women who had been murdered, devastated me. Their deaths are on my hands, and I hadn’t even wielded the instrument of their death. Though the news anchor didn’t come out and say that it was the work of a crime family, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the patterns. No motives. No armed robbery. Just a snatch and grab, and then a body dump. A person with an interest in criminal investigations or a healthy obsession with crime shows would be able to see what wasn’t being said. It also didn’t help that every victim had looked eerily similar to Ginny or myself. No, this wasn’t some random crime spree. It was a manhunt, and innocent women were paying the price for our actions.
That was going to come to an end.
“You shouldn’t have even been able to see the news. I blocked the fucking channels from your room, and Ginny’s.”
“You did what!” I yell at him. “How dare you try to play God and keep me in the dark. I would expect that from my brother, but not you.”
V flinches, and I can tell my words cut him to the quick, like I had intended for them too, but it doesn’t stop his approach. V’s hard footfalls are almost deafening the closer he gets. Each step sounds like a cannon fire, booming off the walls of the Mikey’s office.
“Keep your voice down. Do you really want your brother rushing in here and finding you ransacking his office?”
I didn’t give a shit about what my brother or anyone else heard. They knew about the murders, and are all just as guilty as V. Hell, I’m sure that their little church cult meeting was all about this new insight. I would bet my life they discussed it like the planning of the next patch party, taking no consideration to the fact that the two people at the center of this, should have been told first. Ginny and I were the afterthought to their madness.
“Fuck them. Fuck my brother. And fuck you!”
He growls at me, and the sound coming from him sends a chill down my spine. It was primal and fucking terrifying. The V I knew wasn’t home right now. A dark shadow stood in his place, lacking everything that made him Voodoo. He was gritting his teeth hard, and the cool darkness of his eyes were swirling like tornados. This was a side of him that I had never seen before, and I honestly hoped to never see it again.
“You will never say anything like that again in this place,” he orders. “This club is protecting your ass, and you will respect that.”
“Not anymore, I’m leaving.”
“I don’t think so, Presley. Just how exactly do you think you’re going to pull that off? Call an Uber? Rideshare? Those things require money. You’d get made by The Zezza’s the moment you stepped into a bus depot. You know about the women, so why do you not think that they have every place of mass transit monitored? Still want to leave now?” he asks with a cocky fucking smirk on his face.
“Yes, I’m taking one of the club’s vehicles.”
“And you’ll lead them right back to us and to Ginny, when you’re caught. How could you not see that?”
Shit. I hadn’t considered that.
“Are you going to try to stop me, if I still want to leave?”
“Yes,” he hisses. “You’re not going to slink out of here without so much as a fucking word. You want to leave, then you march that ass of yours out there and explain to Ginny and the club why we wasted our time to protect you, before you go off on this suicidal mission of yours.”
His words sting like a shot to the heart. V’s angry, and he’s not sugarcoating the truth that I know is right. It is a suicide mission, but I can’t keep hiding here, while others are being hurt. That’s not a guilt that I can live with for the rest of my life. I’d rather die than to do that. There’s no deeper wound than knowing someone else is dead because of you.
“I can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair that I’m alive, and they’re dead,” I plea to him. “People are dead because of me.”
V steps forward with his frame nearly touching mine. His blue eyes bore into me, and I can’t look away.
“Do you think I don’t feel for the women who have died? Because I do. That’s all I have thought about, since the news story broke. I want those motherfuckers taken care of just as badly as you do, but if we rush into this, the next person who dies will be a member of this club. Or worse, one of their family members. I’ve kept you in the dark because I wanted to protect you. Just like every other man in this club. We’re putting everything on the line for you and Ginny.”
He pivots and raises a hand, pointing to the closed door.
“Every man sitting out there has a family, that by agreeing to protect you, has put them into jeopardy. Do you know why?”
“No,” I sheepishly whisper.
“Because they know that we’d do the same for them, if the roles were reversed. Sacrifice is a part of who we are. We accept the risks, knowing that we may not make it through the next day. That’s why you can’t leave because if you do, you are throwing that faith and love back into every man’s face. We both know what waits for you on the other side without us. Can you live with the fact that your death would not only affect your brother, but the entirety of this club, especially me?”
I remain silent, as I take in everything he just said. Guilt and rage still flows inside of me, but my brain begins to rebel against my plan to go to the FBI in exchange of Ginny, if I made it that far. I couldn’t dismiss that part of the argument.
Was I making the wrong decision after all?
V’s hand falls back down to his side, as his attention shifts back to me.
“I don’t want anyone else to die for me. Leaving keeps all of you safe, especially Ginny.”
V steps one foot forward, pressing his chest to my front. I can feel his arms lifting upwards. His large hands move to cradle my face, and I’m frozen in place.
“People die every single day, Presley. It’s a fact of life.”
“But I can control who dies for me, if I leave. Just let me go, V. Let me spare you all.”
“If you leave, I’ll just follow you.”
Wait. What is he saying?
“Why would you do that? What would be the point of it? If you’re right about my leaving, I would just be leading you into the slaughter.”
Why would it matter so much to him, if I left? I’m just one woman. Dispensable by the rules, that corner stoned hundreds of motorcycle clubs. Is there something I’m not considering? Oh shit.
“I think you know why.”
Before I can reply, his lips press into mine. Shock of the unexpected kiss flares to life, but soon fades away into arousal. His lips are soft against mine, but this isn’t a normal kiss. The sensation was that of desperation and need. My arms slide from my sides and wrap around his neck, inviting him in closer, before my fingers slip into the dark strands of his hair. The roughness of his tongue licks across my swollen lips, as he pushes inside. My tongue caresses his in turn, as the kiss deepens. They dance together like two ballet dancers, during the final piece. It’s methodically beautiful in its rhythm, and best kiss of my life.
V severs the connection abruptly. My heart slams against my sternum from excitement and surprise. His blue eyes are wild, searching for a sign that I want this to continue further. He tests the waters, as he rubs one of his thumbs over my bottom lip, and it’s still damp from the kiss we just shared.
Is this what I want? What about Beauregard? Am I willing to risk the relationship I have with him for Voodoo?
It’s in that moment that I finally let go of everything holding me back. My life could e
nd tomorrow just as he plainly pointed out. This could be my last kiss. My last chance at feeling something other than fear and hopelessness that I know is coming my way. This may not be the perfect situation or the right man standing in front of me, but he’s here, unlike Beauregard.
I want this though I may regret it later, but right now, I want him to kiss me like that again.
“More,” I whisper to him. He smiles back.
“With pleasure.”
His lips connect with mine again, and I am lost.
I don’t know what came over me to kiss her. One minute I was so fucking pissed at her for trying to leave and throwing blame at the club. And the next, my lips were on hers. My selfish need to taste her took over, as my last-ditch effort to keep her where she would be safe, and more importantly with me.
It was a dick move, but it was working. There was no doubt in my mind that momentary pause when I pulled away from her luscious, swollen lips that she thought about him. Knowing now that she’d seen the news reports, I told myself that her aloofness the last few days was a mixture of guilt for their deaths and for the feelings she was developing toward me.
What she didn’t know was that my feelings were more than just new lust bearing fruit. I had loved her for months from afar. She was the siren calling me home for the first time, and I couldn’t resist it anymore. Her brother might fucking kill me, but seeing her so soft from my kiss and begging for more in his very office, trumps all reservations that I once had about this.
Her call was my doom, and I accepted my fate with open arms.
Our tongues tangled together in a passionate dance of wills for several minutes, before she pulled away, gasping for air. The break was momentary, before we were smashed together again.
She whines, when I pull my mouth away from hers again, but moans as my tongue licks down her neck and across her collarbone. Goosebumps flourish down her skin in a dotted disarray of desire.
Her body wants this just as badly as mine does, but it doesn’t stop me from asking. I’m a gentleman after all.
“Are you okay with this?” I ask against her neck.
