His Father

by A. E. Murphy

  I peer at the window at the fifteen bikes turning in my front yard so as to be facing the right direction when they need to escape. Stone is leading them but only he and two others enter my house without permission.

  “We were wondering when you’d be back,” Stone yells and it echoes around my home, bouncing off the windows and white walls.

  I descend the stairs and greet him at the bottom.

  “We’re to keep you here until Nastya arrives.” He glances at the cleaning crew who are working through the living area and whistles loudly. “Fuck off upstairs.”

  The two women and one man all nod and take their things up to my room. At least I’ll have something clean to crawl into later if I’m not dead.

  “This isn’t necessary,” I growl, annoyed that I’m being forced into staying. “If you simply called when she arrived, I’d have come. I have nothing to hide.”

  “Well then this should go easily enough.” Stone grins and walks to the refrigerator.

  “The feds emptied it,” I say when he peers inside looking for beer.

  “Those fuckers.” He nods to the guy on his left. “Go down the hill and get a crate and something strong. We’re gonna need it.” We share a knowing look. “Especially if the psycho bitch is coming. Didn’t you tap that?”

  I nod, fighting back my grimace.

  “Yeah?” He shakes his head. “Me too. Fucking crazy and I know crazy… or at least I thought I did.”

  Nastya wasn’t bad, she was just different. Rough, aggressive, liked to be in control and use her teeth a lot. Liked being spanked and called me Daddy. It was a bit weird. Still satisfied me enough to go back a couple of times. Never again.

  “She call you Daddy?” he asks and roars with laughter when I nod. “Yeah, I had to toss her out of my bed. Couldn’t be doing with that shit.”

  I don’t reply to that because my mind is now elsewhere. “Why have you brought your entire club to my house, Stone?”

  “I don’t trust the feds not to turn up again. They’ve scattered to watch the area. My club has been tossed too. They know we’re working together so it’s just a matter of time before we all go in.”

  That makes sense. “Please don’t leave blood stains on my walls.”

  “Can’t make promises when I don’t know your position in this.” He smiles dangerously. “Seems a bit suspect to me that you’re trying to get out of your deal weeks before the feds are called.”

  “I had nothing to fucking do with this.”

  “That’s why you won’t give us a name?”

  Shit. “I’m not giving you a name because it’s not the idiot’s fault. They were doing what any normal person would have done when finding a crate full of drugs and weapons.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “But you know we can’t let it slide. If word gets out that all they gotta do is call the pigs to get out of a deal, we’ll be out of business by the mornin’.”

  A good point.

  We sit in silence for a while, I take my phone out of my pocket and look for messages from Tempest. I told her not to get in touch, but I hate the fact she hasn’t. It’s better this way.

  We don’t speak again to each other until his buddies returns with alcohol which I accept easily. I need something to take the edge off.

  “Where’s that pretty little thing you’ve been keeping to yourself? Tempest was it?” Stone asks suddenly as I sip my whiskey and clear my throat to help ease the burn.

  “We aren’t together,” I lie. “She was a fling that ended.”

  His eyes narrow but he doesn’t reply as the sound of a car pulling into the driveway has my body becoming solid cement.

  Nastya is here.

  Tucker moves to me, uneasy at the situation. He’s not out of his depth but he is outnumbered.

  “You know the rules,” Stone says, and Tucker, his men, myself, and Stone’s men all place our phones on the TV stand.

  We’re patted down for wires and other devices as Nastya’s heels click on my wooden floor.

  “Sargent,” she announces, her tone saccharine and fake.

  She approaches me on three-inch pumps, her legs narrow and long. She’s only an inch shorter than me with the heels. Her dark red hair is pulled back so tight into a high ponytail that the skin around her small eyes seems stretched.

  “Sargent,” she repeats, hugging me.

  I place one arm around her bony waist and ignore the way the shoulder pad of her gray jacket digs into my neck.

  “It’s nice to see you again, even considering the circumstances,” she declares with a heavy Russian accent, then leans forward to kiss my lips. “How have you been?” When she moves away to look around my damaged house she tsks. “The police think they do what they like. Bastard pigs. Such beautiful things now trash.”

  “How can I help you, Nastya?”

  “Business is not great now.” She sits on my sofa and the woman who trailed in after her hands her a bottle of water which she sips before handing it back. Her dull brown eyes come to mine. “What will we do I wonder?”

  “I don’t know but the freights are off-limits for obvious reasons.” I try to sound apologetic but it comes off far too firm. I’m not helping myself here.

  “Yes, I find it odd though, that this all comes so soon after you try to get out of our deal.” She stands again and steps into my space, so she can trail her nail along my jaw. “And you declare innocence yet the first thing you do is send the petite girl to her own country.”

  My body tenses but I force a laugh. “She was arrested beside me, she fled the moment she got the chance.”

  When she taps on her phone and holds up a picture of me kissing Tempest goodbye outside of my hotel, I raise a brow and shrug.

  “Your excuse?” Nastya asks, her tone teasing and malicious.

  “Should I have kicked her out of the door? She was a good fuck.”

  “I bet she was,” Stone mutters and her eyes and mine shoot to him. “Her body was fucking gorgeous. Just wanted between her thighs.”

  “Have her,” I say through gritted teeth. The words make me feel sick. “I’ve been done with her for a while. Too needy.”

  Nastya touches my throat, the sharp point of her nails strokes the skin across my jugular. I’ve heard she’s killed men with a similar strike so I quickly grab her wrist.

  “Don’t tease me,” I say quietly, daringly. Wanting her to think I still find her desirable.

  It works, I see her eyes flash with interest and lust. “Dare I?”

  She wraps her arm around my neck and pushes her tongue into my mouth, just like old times. I reciprocate because at this point I don’t have much of a choice. It’s tasteless and does nothing to excite me.

  “We have an audience,” I say, pulling back and resisting the urge to wipe my lips.

  “Shame.” She sits back on the couch and smiles, her dark lipstick smudged around her lips and mine. “Did I mention Daddy will be here soon?”

  Stone and I both tense at that. She better be kidding.

  He’s a wanted criminal. Surely he wouldn’t be so stupid? Or perhaps he will be?

  “So this house needs to be put back together and checked for wires.” She blinks at Stone and his face falls but he nods like the dutiful little lapdog and his men come in to help the cleaning crew.

  Nastya sits and plays on her phone as I drink more whiskey at the counter in the kitchen.

  When she appears beside me, I jolt and she cackles unattractively. “You look nervous, Sargent. I wonder why.”

  “A lot is going on, Nastya, we aren’t all emotionless bitches like you,” Stone snaps, coming to my aid though only for a moment because she pulls a gun on him. It’s a small Glock but it’s aimed at his head.

  Suddenly everybody in the room has their guns out. Everybody but me.

  “Speak to me like that again, you greasy limp dick, and I’ll put you down right here,” she snarls and I just know she’s not kidding.

  Stone grins and steps closer, the gun
is now only inches from his skull. She’ll do it too and I’ll end up shot in the crossfire as this room lights up like the Fourth of July.

  I place my hand on her wrist and push as my nose skims her hairline. “You’re truly going to risk your life to kill this dumb fuck?”

  She sighs and then smiles before turning in my arms and pushing the gun back into her jacket pocket. It isn’t even secured in a sheath of some kind, it’s just hanging in her pocket. Fucking crazy bitch.

  “Come, let’s move to a quieter room,” she whispers and I wish I’d just let them all kill each other.

  Stone pats my shoulder as I’m led upstairs, past the sofas on the balcony and straight into my room which is spotless thanks to the cleaners. They did what they could on such short notice.

  As soon as the door closes behind me she’s attacking my mouth, her nails are scraping against my chest and my back is against the unforgiving wood. I return her kiss but only for a moment. It’s not getting me off at all and it feels wrong. I feel as though I’m betraying Tempest.

  “I’m surprisingly not in the mood,” I explain, stepping around her.

  She looks insulted, her massive ego can’t handle the rejection.

  “Because of that little girl you have been fucking?” She is not happy but I stay calm.

  “No, because I haven’t slept all night and I’m worried about my future and the future of my company.”

  Her eyes narrow further. “I traveled all this way to see you and help you with my father and you turn me away like this?”

  Fuck. “Like I said…”

  “Like the last time when I offered to stay for longer and you declined me then too. Yet now you live with a girl half your age.” She pulls out her phone and grins maniacally. “She isn’t even pretty.”

  My lips thin to a white line. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Nastya.”

  “She’s not prettier than me.”

  Insecure bitch. When I don’t reply her cheeks pink with rage.

  “I will have them bring her to me right now. I will not be embarrassed by you for anyone! Especially not little girls.”

  My heart rate picks up. She would be so callous and cruel. What do I do?

  “You are still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Nastya. I simply don’t wish to date you because of your father being who he is. I saw what he did to the last man you tired of.”

  She laughs at that and cups my face with her hands. “Then we mustn’t tell him, yes?”

  My stomach is twisting in knots, I feel ill. I feel trapped. I have to be careful not to anger her. If I can stall her for long enough.

  “Come,” she says, draping her jacket over the chair by my desk. “Now we can fuck.”

  “I’m not…”

  “Release some of that tension.” She circles me like a vulture and starts rubbing my back. I close my eyes but there’s no willing this away. “We had fun, let us repeat.”

  Her nails scratch the surface of my arm as she comes to stand in front of me. I let her lift my shirt over my head, begging for an excuse that doesn’t sound pathetic and useless. I could say I have an STI but then she’d lose interest entirely and I need her on my side when her father shows up. If he shows up. She’s the only one that can keep me alive.

  Her fingertips touch the part where my tattoo meets my shoulder, trail across my throat and then dance to my nipple which tightens immediately.

  “Come,” she whispers against my lips, tugging on my belt to have me follow before undoing it. She scrapes her nails over the top of my jeans but it doesn’t even stir.

  Fuck. She’s going to be really pissed off if I can’t get it hard.

  I’m going to have to do this. The thought makes me ill but I’m going to have to do it. It’s the only way.

  I crush my lips to hers, praying for some kind of divine intervention.

  Unfortunately, none comes and after discretely rubbing my cock with my birthday gift from Tempest, I make Nastya remember everything she liked about me.

  Tempest

  Tears blur my vision as I’m dragged past the rows of bikes by a humongous, bald-headed dickhead. He’s taller than Sargent and has his hand fisted in my hair.

  “Gently, Sergei,” my captor snaps at his bald-headed guard.

  My captor being a very Russian, much older man called Yaroslava. The same man that Sargent told me about just last night.

  I don’t beg anymore, not like I did for the first five minutes, insisting I had nothing to do with this. Yaroslava pushed a blade against my neck and that’s all it took to silence me for the journey here. I would have been safer hiding somewhere. They stopped us en route to the airport. They left Miles by his car in a bloody pulp after this bald fuck and another guard kicked the shit out of him. He put up a good fight but it wasn’t enough. I don’t even know if he’s alive.

  “We do not want her as bald as you by the time we make it inside.” Yaroslava laughs loudly at his own joke.

  Pain grips my scalp as his hand leaves my hair and all of my roots fight to return to their original resting spaces.

  I whimper when his strong grip moves to my arm and yanks me into the house where men are scattered in all uniforms. Some in cuts, some in suits, some in casual attire.

  They all look our way and they part as I’m shoved through. Their chatter now silent, so silent I can hear something else. Something that sickens me. The sound of a woman’s moans of pleasure coming from upstairs. How can anybody be having sex at a time like this?

  She’s so loud.

  “Sit,” Yaroslava commands me and I’m pushed toward the sofa facing the stairs.

  I sit and the big guy stands behind me as Yaroslava greets Stone and the others in here.

  “Clear out,” his other guard demands.

  “Except you,” Yaroslava says to Stone who is eyeing me warily.

  Stone nods politely and his men filter out.

  “Who the fuck is this asshole?” Yaroslava laughs, pointing at Sargent’s head of security.

  Stone tells him as much and Yaroslava sighs and raises his silenced weapon. I hear a small noise and watch Tucker drop to the ground lifeless. A bullet between his eyes.

  I scream, a reaction I can’t suppress but the man behind me clamps a hand around my mouth.

  “Shut up,” he barks at me as my tears fall onto the side of his hand. He pinches my nose until I start clawing at his wrist. My chest tightens with pain.

  “Was that necessary?” Stone asks Yaroslava who just grins, his wrinkled face stretching to his eyes.

  The hand leaves my mouth and I choke for air as, finally, a door upstairs opens and a disheveled-looking Sargent and a red-haired woman both descend the stairs less than a minute later.

  I pray another man joins them and Sargent just went up to get them but I can see the lipstick around his mouth. I can see the evidence of his erection through his jeans, I can see a dark hickey on his neck. My heart, already shattered, evaporates and all emotions leave me. I think I’m in shock.

  “Daddy!” the woman cries, racing to Yaroslava and throwing her arms around him.

  They speak in Russian and I’m surprised by how fond of his daughter he is. I keep looking at them because I can’t handle looking at Sargent. The images of him and her are in my head. The images of a man dying moments before are too.

  So much is happening, I can’t process any of it.

  “Wait.” The woman looks at me. “This is her?”

  I stiffen when she stalks my way in heels so high I wonder how she’s not broken an ankle yet.

  “I just fucked your boyfriend,” she states, grinning and watching for my reaction with soulless brown eyes.

  “He’s not my boyfriend, I hardly know him,” I reply, my throat scratchy and sore.

  She frowns at my defiance as I hold her gaze. “Shame, I always did like a cat fight.”

  I stay quiet and glance over at the lifeless legs just visible from the side of the couch. My body tries to heave but I forc
e it back.

  “Leave Tempest alone, Nastya,” Yaroslava demands. “Somebody bring the girl a whiskey, she’s trembling.”

  “No, thank you,” I reply, thinking that if I am pregnant, I don’t want to hurt it anymore than the stress of this situation already is.

  “Drink,” Yaroslava snaps and Nastya returns to me with the bottle. She pushes it hard against my lips, holding my head in place by my hair. When it filters into my mouth I start choking again and push her hand away so hard the bottle drops to the ground and smashes.

  I feel her palm against my cheek, a sting, followed by the ringing of my ear. She just slapped me.

  I glare at her as a handprint bubbles on the surface of my skin. I don’t touch it, I don’t give her the satisfaction.

  “Nastya,” Yaroslava says but sounds more amused than annoyed as he pulls his daughter to his side and then pushes her behind him. “Now, to business.”

  I look at Sargent who is being restrained by Stone and the other guard that escorted me here. He’s red-faced, I’ve never seen him so angry. Is that because of what she did? Why does he care? He was just fucking her.

  “I’m going to ask you personally as you haven’t been forthright with Mr. Stone,” Yaroslava states, pulling his gun back out and twisting it in his hands. “Give me the name of the person who told our tales and if we investigate your innocence, we might let you go. Nearly twenty years of loyal service between us means I’m willing to be reasonable. To a point.”

  “The person has been dealt with,” Sargent replies and I hear the desperation in his tone.

  “I doubt that.” Yaroslava raises the gun to Sargent’s head and laughs loudly. “This is why I brought her. I had thought she meant more to you but finding you in bed with my only daughter has me questioning her usefulness. Still…” I watch as the long cylinder barrel of the gun slowly moves my way until it’s pointing directly at my eyes.

  “No… she’s innocent,” Sargent yells. “Truly she has nothing to do with this.”

  “Neither did he.” He nods to the body by the couch and the guard behind me chuckles as though this is a TV show and not real life. We’re nothing but cattle to these people. “Tick tock, Mr. Wolf. A name, please.”