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HIS PLAYTHING: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Voodoo Devils MC)

Page 17

by Zoey Parker


  “That was an expensive shirt,” he said with a grin.

  “We'll be rich soon,” Stef laughed. “I'll buy you a closet full of them.”

  A brief shadow passed over Bax's face, but before Stef could ask why, he reached behind her head and pulled a handful of her hair. Stef's head tilted back, exposing her neck. Bax planted a series of kisses under her jaw as he reached down with his other hand, unzipping his pants.

  A moment later, he was inside of her, his cock growing even more rigid as it filled her up.

  Bax plunged deeper into her with every thrust, their cries of passion crashing against each other in the air between them. Stef was sure that the others in the warehouse could hear them, but she didn't care. In that moment, her entire world was this man, this room, this feeling.

  Their hips rocked against each other until they ached, each trying to disappear completely into the other. The sweat of their bodies mingled together in an intoxicating perfume. Bax pressed into her harder and harder, until Stef believed that she could feel him making his way up into her stomach, her chest, her heart. Her pulse seemed to throb in perfect time with their lovemaking, filling her ears with its singular booming rhythm.

  They came as one and it was like a dam breaking, a gushing, elemental roar that ran through both of their bodies. Stef wanted its raging current to lift them both up and wash them away together, anywhere at all, as long as they could continue to cling to each other.

  But instead it passed over them, leaving them in a pile of limbs, damp and gasping for air.

  They stayed that way for a long time before finally getting up and composing themselves. When they walked back to the main area of the warehouse, Skull looked them over disdainfully.

  “Looks like you'll need a new shirt for tonight. Better hurry up and get one before the stores close.”

  Chapter 30

  Bax

  Bax pulled up in front of the Metairie Cemetery in the red Ferrari at ten minutes to ten. Benny was already there, waiting for him with the valise. As he walked over, Bax noticed that Benny was freshly-shaved and wearing a crisp suit. His eyes were still baggy and exhausted, but he didn't look stricken and helpless, the way he had at the waterfront earlier.

  This gave Bax a faint twinge of anxiety, but he pushed it aside. He was about to pull off the biggest score of his life. It was only natural for him to feel a bit jumpy.

  “Glad you were able to smooth yourself out a little,” Bax said. “I know how hard that must have been, given the circumstances.”

  “It's nothing. Just a shower, a shave, a change of clothes, and a couple glasses of grappa. I didn't want to give these animals the satisfaction of seeing me like that.”

  Bax nodded. “We'll get through this, Benny, I promise. But listen—just in case anything goes wrong in there or it looks like they're going to screw us over, I'll grab Stef and get her to safety, okay? You just turn around and run as fast as you can.”

  Benny shook his head. “No. She's my daughter. I'll take her.”

  “Of course she's your daughter, and of course you feel that way, but you have to think it through. With all due respect, Stef and I are both younger and more in shape than you are. The odds of me getting her out of here in one piece are a hell of a lot higher. But if you split off from us and run for it on your own, Letrong's men will have to split up, which will lower the chances of them finding any of us. Once we've all gotten away, we can meet up at The Hurricane Club and call your guys down there to protect us.”

  Benny considered this. “Okay. You're right. I'm sorry. You've dealt with these slant-eyed terrorists before, so you're in charge of this show. Just make sure Stef makes it out of here alive and unharmed.”

  “You have my word on that, Benny. Now come on, follow me. I found Fournier on a map before I got here. We should be able to get there pretty easily.”

  They walked through the vast, impeccably-manicured graveyard, passing rows of gothic crypts and monuments. There were many marble angels perched on the headstones in various poses—smiling, weeping, praying, brandishing swords, spreading their wings.

  At last, they reached the tall, narrow mausoleum with “Fournier” chiseled over the doorway. The narrow doors had panes of stained glass depicting Michael the Archangel wrestling with Satan as crimson flames danced around their feet.

  The doors were ajar, and a light flickered inside.

  Bax walked in with Benny right behind him. David and Skull stood waiting in their costumes, with Stef kneeling on the floor between them. Her hands were tied behind her back, and a gag was tied around her mouth. Skull's AK-47 hung from his shoulders on a strap, and David had a handgun tucked into his belt. A lantern rested on the stone slab in front of them, casting their giant shadows on the rear wall.

  “Thank you for joining us, gentlemen,” David said, using the accent once more. “Before we conduct our transaction, please be so kind as to turn around and place your hands on the wall, so my associate can make sure you are both unarmed.”

  Benny set the valise down, turned, and put his palms against the cool stone wall. Bax did likewise. Skull stepped forward, frisked them both quickly, and nodded to David.

  “Excellent. Now please, hand the money to him so he can verify that it's all there.”

  Benny picked up the valise again, handing it over. Skull opened it, pawed through the stacks of bills, and nodded again.

  “We've done everything that you asked, Letrong,” Bax said. “Now let her go.”

  “Hmm.” David narrowed his eyes, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I think not. I think now that we're here, there are many opportunities for us to use the resources of your criminal operation to advance our cause. And I think your precious daughter would be the perfect insurance policy to retain when embarking on such a business venture. From now on, Mr. Altamura, you and all the assets of your little empire will be at our disposal.”

  Bax snatched the AK from Skull, snapping its strap and slamming the rifle butt into Skull's stomach. As he did, he was careful to use the choreographed moves that Harry had taught them, so it would look like a savage blow without actually doing any damage.

  David reached for his gun, but Bax swung the rifle around, firing several blanks into David's chest. The squibs went off as planned, and the fake wounds exploded with blood. Bax aimed the rifle at Skull just as he was starting to get back on his feet and unleashed another short burst of blanks. Skull's squibs popped too, the dyed red corn syrup splattering against the marble slab.

  Skull and David slumped to the floor, playing dead.

  Bax untied Stef's hands and pulled the gag off. “You came for me,” she said breathlessly. “Both of you. Thank you...”

  “No time for that now,” Bax barked, turning to Benny. “I've got her. Go on, run! The rest of Letrong's men will be here any second!”

  Benny stood firmly in place, his hands behind his back, his expression neutral.

  “What are you doing?” Bax demanded. “Are you trying to get us all killed? Run!”

  “Why should I?” Benny asked quietly. “I'm not afraid of guns filled with blanks. Especially when I have this.”

  His right hand emerged from behind his back, holding a .22 pistol.

  Bax stared at it, his heart sinking. “Where did you get that?”

  “I hid it in my crotch,” Benny said evenly. “Silvio was right. Most men won't frisk another man there. Oh, maybe actual guerrilla fighters would...but not a bunch of half-assed bikers and con men, which is all you are.” He leaned over, addressing David and Skull. “You can both get up now, I think. There'll be plenty of time for you to bleed on the floor soon enough.”

  Slowly, Skull and David got up, facing them. Skull pulled off his ski mask, glaring at Benny.

  “Of course it's you,” Benny sighed. “I should have known.”

  “Daddy, I can explain everything...” Stef began.

  “Can you?” Benny sneered. “What possible explanation could you give for betraying me to a pack
of greedy thieves and vultures? How much of my money did they promise you? What did it take for them to convince you to turn on me, after everything I've done for you?”

  Stef's expression hardened. “Not much.”

  “Okay, so it seems like you know the whole score,” Bax admitted. “Fine. It was a scam. But it was all my idea, from top to bottom. I'm the one you want.”

  “Bullshit,” Skull spat. “I'm the one who called him in to help us get our money back from you. None of this shit would have happened if it wasn't for me. You want to torture someone, kill someone—here I am. This begins and ends with me. Go for it. Just let the others go.”

  “A noble display, but you can all save your breath,” said Benny. “None of you are leaving this graveyard alive. Not after what you've done to me. Now come on, let's get out of here. I want to shoot you in the open air, so the bullets don't ricochet on the walls.”

  He gestured to the doorway with his gun. They filed out in a line, stepping out onto the grass between the headstones.

  “She's your daughter, Benny,” Bax whispered. “And she's pregnant.”

  Benny's face crumpled with rage and anguish. “I don't care. I'd rather let my bloodline die right here, tonight, then let this ungrateful bitch live to spawn another rotten, spoiled, poisonous little traitor to the name Altamura. Everything I've ever wanted for my family has been stolen from me. This is all that's left.” He cocked the pistol.

  “All right,” Bax said. “If you're going to kill us, you're going to kill us. Clearly, there's no talking you out of it. But before you pull the trigger, just answer one question for me. How did you figure it out? How did you know that Stef's kidnapping was a setup?”

  Benny smirked and called out, his gun still leveled at them. “Silvio, you can bring him over now.”

  Silvio stepped out from behind a nearby crypt, holding his Desert Eagle. Tommy walked behind him, adjusting his glasses.

  “We found the other two bikers,” Silvio rasped. “They're tied up a couple of rows away.”

  “Tommy,” Bax sighed. “Of course.”

  “Hiya, Bax,” Tommy said with a smile. “After you demonstrated what an unreliable fuck you are, I figured this whole plan was pretty much doomed. So I went to Benny and came clean. Told him the whole thing, and in exchange, he's gonna make sure I get to stay a made guy, even after the mistakes I made. But I guess you made a few of your own, huh, pal? Like thinking I wouldn't dime you out.”

  Bax's lips pulled into a grim smile. “Actually, 'pal'...that's exactly what I thought.”

  He pressed the stud on the left cufflink, activating the device that Harry had installed in it. It was a simple transmitter, no different from the ones inside medical alert bracelets.

  Except the people who received this particular signal weren't paramedics.

  Over a dozen young black men emerged from their hidden positions behind the surrounding gravestones, aiming massive handguns at the gangsters. The chrome on their weapons gleamed in the moonlight.

  Benny looked around, panicked. “What the hell is going on? Who are these men?”

  One of the men stepped forward, holding a pair of gold-plated .44 pistols with pearl handles. The gold necklace he wore had the letters “J-GUNZ” engraved on it.

  He pointed at Tommy. “That him?” he asked Bax.

  “Yep,” Bax answered. “His name is Tommy Quarters, and he's the piece of shit who sold the smack to your son up in Ditchfield.”

  J-Gunz looked Tommy over for a moment, then fired a bullet directly into the bridge of Tommy's nose. Tommy fell to the grass, dead, his glasses split neatly in half.

  “Nice shot, big guy,” Bax said. “I know it won't bring him back, but I sure hope it helped. Now, about the second part of our deal...?”

  J-Gunz nodded to his soldiers. They aimed their weapons and fired at Benny and Silvio. The gangsters dropped their own guns, jitterbugging on the grass as their bodies were riddled with bullets. When the shooting finally stopped, the two men slumped to the ground as clouds of gun smoke coiled above them.

  Satisfied, J-Gunz holstered his pistols and walked over to Bax, shaking hands with him. “Pleasure doin' business with you. If you ever make it out to California, be sure an' look me up.”

  “Will do,” Bax said.

  J-Gunz motioned to his soldiers, and they withdrew, disappearing into the night.

  Skull stared at Bax, dumbfounded. “Jesus. You are just full of surprises, aren't you?”

  Epilogue

  Bax

  And so the Voodoo Devils rejoiced when Bax, Stef, Skull, and David returned with the bag full of money. Beer flowed, music played, and everyone took turns dancing with everyone else all night long. Even Millie managed a smile or two as Skull waltzed her across the floor. And when he asked if she could stay with them a while longer to lend the MC her considerable chemistry skills as it established a new empire in New Orleans—one in which the ability to synthesize and purify narcotics would be quite valuable indeed—she laughed, kissed him on the cheek, and said she'd think about it.

  Later, when the sun started to rise and thirty million dollars had been counted out between Mule, Millie, Harry, David, and the Devils—six million per share—Skull approached Bax sheepishly.

  “Listen, all that stuff I said to you before about us not being friends...”

  Bax held up a hand, stopping him. “I understand, Skull. It's okay.”

  Skull shifted his weight uneasily. “Yeah, well, even so. The Devils are richer to the tune of six mil, and none of that could have happened without you. And since you've got a girl now, and you're gonna have a baby and all...I reckon you shouldn't ride away from this empty-handed, is all.” He handed a shopping bag full of cash to Bax. “Here's a mil from my end.”

  Bax looked down at it for a long moment, then embraced Skull, slapping him on the back. “Thanks, man. That really means a lot to me.”

  “We're gonna have our work cut out for us here,” Skull said. “Chasing the rest of Altamura's guys out of town, setting up our own thing. We could use a big brain like yours, helping us figure out all the angles.”

  Bax pulled back from the hug, smiling at Skull. “You've got my number. I'll always pick up. Trust me, I'm a lot easier to keep liking from a distance.”

  That had all been a year ago.

  Now Bax was behind the wheel of the Ferrari, driving down a Nevada highway on the way into Las Vegas. The windows were open, and the wind whipped through his hair—the black dye had finally grown out enough for him to shear it off, and he was blonde again. Stef sat in the passenger's seat, and chubby little Howie was strapped into a baby seat in the back, cooing and giggling as he sucked on his own fingers.

  “So what should we go for this time?” Stef asked, eyeing the luxury hotels full of potential marks. “The Coin-Matching Scam? The Fiddle Game? The Rainmaker?”

  Bax chuckled, shaking his head. “It doesn't matter. Remember the first rule of being a con artist? You can run any con, anywhere, with absolutely anyone. All you have to do—”

  “—is know how to sell it,” Stef finished with a laugh.

  Bax nodded. “Damn straight.”

  THE END

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