Xerox

by Esther E. Schmidt

  We stroll over to a bar sitting in the corner and a prospect puts a large mug of steaming coffee in front of Xerox. “There you go, Prez. What about you, Captain? How do you like your coffee?”

  Captain? I look back at Xerox and it’s like he can hear my thoughts.

  He leans in close, his breath stroking my ear. “Club name, darlin’. You’re the Prez’ Old Lady. Seeing I gave you that nickname, it kinda sticks. They’ve asked to use Captain to address you, and I’ve agreed.”

  “Prez and Captain, how nice,” I murmur.

  “That’s right.” Xerox pulls back and winks. “Both know how, and are capable, to taking lead.”

  I give him a bright smile and turn my attention back to the prospect. “Just cream, and don’t be shy about it either.”

  He nods and rushes off to make my coffee. Xerox grabs his mug, turns slightly, and places his elbow on the bar. He brings the steaming coffee to his lips. Yes, I’m watching the man, because every movement of his arms and muscles is a sight to be seen.

  Xerox’s eyes widen, he’s got his gaze locked on something. I see the mug travel in high speed back on the bar, slushing over the rim. I follow his line of sight to a TV that’s pinned to the wall.

  “Incoming.” I hear a voice bark through the room.

  There’s rustling behind me. When I spin around to see what the fuss is about, I’m grabbed around the waist and pulled against a solid chest. Good thing too because I’m jolted with pure anger and revenge as I see Nero standing in the doorway.

  That’s the only thing my mind registers as I struggle to move forward. I need to get my fingers wrapped around his throat and squeeze the ever-loving-fuck out of it. I want to pop his head like a zit that explodes against the mirror the instant you put pressure on it.

  “Easy, darlin’…glance left, then right. Breathe, Captain Cookie.” Xerox’s voice breaks through my murderous thoughts.

  Swiping my eyes in the direction Xerox told me, I see Barlow standing on one side with Mike next to him, Morgan and Beecher on the other side. All four of them have their arm raised, gripping their guns.

  For a split second my brain flares with ‘why the fuck do my brothers have guns?’ before some sort of calming sensation flows through me. Nero’s surrounded. There’s no reason to go crazy. I’m safe here…I’m not the single person anymore who needs to handle things on her own.

  “You’ve got quite the nerve, showing up here,” Xerox growls.

  Nero holds up his hands, a white envelope in one of them. “I only came to give Maci something. I’m not carrying and I left my guys out front as a show of good faith. I’m not here to…”

  Max walks up to Nero, rips the envelope from his hands, and strolls over to me. I take it out of his hands and snatch out the papers that are inside it. My whole body freezes up when I recognize what I’m holding. The contract Dario made my father sign. Nero brought the deal our fathers made, why?

  My eyes meet Nero’s. “What? Do you think you could come here, wave these, and magically make me drop to my knees and start giving you blow jobs as your future wife or something?” I snap.

  Xerox rips the papers away from me and glances them over. A growl rips from his lips and by the tightness in his shoulders and the way it flows through his body, I know he’s about to surge forward.

  Stepping in front of him, I place my hand on his chest. “Easy, love.” I take a quick glance behind me, raising my voice so everyone can hear me loud and clear. “Everyone here knows I’m already taken. Seems Nero here wanted a public reminder.”

  “Like I said,” Nero snaps. “I didn’t come here to start something…I came here to end something.”

  “Like how your second in command ended Nancy?” I seethe.

  Nero’s eyes widen. Shock clearly washing over his face.

  “Didn’t know that little fact, did you now?” Xerox bites out those words before he closes the distance between them. “Are you even aware of the shit that fucker does behind your back? Not much of a boss…are ya?”

  I walk up to both of them and place my arm around Xerox’s waist. He immediately tucks me underneath his arm.

  Nero eyes our action, his jaw ticks. “Seeing I was clearly distracted by something I wanted for my own, I might have been neglecting other things.”

  “I was never yours to begin with.” My hands clench into fists, itching to get a few punches in.

  Mike steps forward, his gun still raised. “What’s this about, sis?”

  “Step back, Mike. We’ll discuss it later.” Xerox’s voice is firm.

  My brother backs up, surprising the hell out of me yet again. These last few weeks have been a struggle. Mike is getting older and has already become one hell of a tall guy. They grow up so fast these days. And yet…ever since my parents were killed, I’ve been working out. Getting into shape and learning how to fight, and I made damn sure my brothers followed me in this. Young boys, creating bulging muscles as years went by. Maybe because I needed them to be strong, knowing this day would come, sooner rather than later.

  “Quill,” Xerox snaps. “Search the fucker.”

  Quill steps closer as Xerox pins Nero with his gaze. “You carrying?”

  “No. Like I said, I didn’t come here to start something, I came to end it. I wanted to return the contract because it never meant anything to me. Seeing she wasn’t at her house…”

  “Because your second in command shot the place to hell,” Xerox snaps. “See a pattern here, fucker?”

  Nero reaches inside the pocket of his black jeans and pulls out his phone. With this movement, he now has steel plastered against his temple.

  “Not a very smart move, fucker. My finger is itching to pull the damn trigger,” Barlow says, his voice calm.

  “I already told you I wasn’t carrying,” Nero growls.

  “Well, excuse the fuck out of me, when I don’t believe your criminal, murderous, vendetta spree ass, motherfucker,” Barlow states, his voice still as calm as a lake on a summers day.

  Nero works his phone and brings it to his ear. His gaze slides to the TV that’s pinned to the wall. I follow his line of sight and see three guys leaning against a truck. One of those guys, the one on the left, moves and brings his hand to his ear.

  “Hank,” Nero addresses the person who’s standing outside. “You were right, he’s gone rogue. End him.”

  Glancing around the room, I see all eyes are pinned to the black and white screen TV, zoomed in on the three guys standing against the truck. It’s like a damn movie playing out when the guy on the left reaches smoothly for his gun. The one in the middle catches the movement and works fast to take it away and blows the left guy’s brains out. The body hasn’t even dropped to the ground before the man that was standing in the middle, holding the gun, turns on the guy on his right, repeating the action. The only guy that’s left standing hops in the truck and speeds off.

  It’s dead silence until Quill snorts. “Told ya we needed the full color instead of the black and white camera. That right there had some killer movie skills.”

  Chapter Eleven

  ***Xerox***

  What a fucking mess. Two dead bodies on the edge of my property. The leader of a fucking gang still in my clubhouse.

  “Barlow,” I snap. “Get that fucking DEA agent on the phone and get her over here.”

  The clubhouse is somewhat remote, but this shit will attract fucking flies in the blink of an eye.

  “Nero, sit your ass down at the table over there in that fucking room, because you’re not going anywhere.” I point in the direction of church.

  Quill shoves him between the shoulder blades, making him stumble slightly before he catches himself. His upper lip curls in disgust but he throws his shoulders back and stalks in the direction I pointed.

  Barlow steps up next to me. “She’s on her way. But Prez…I ain’t going near her.”

  I cock my eyebrow. “What the fuck, Barlow? I need you out there. I’ve told you, you’re the connection o
f communication between us and the DEA, so you handle your shit. It’s fucking club business, you idiot.”

  His face turns a shade of red and I can’t read him enough to know if it’s from anger, shame, or something else.

  “Well?” I snap. “What the fuck is wrong with handling this? You scared of a piece of cunt, Barlow? That it?”

  The fucker actually growls and leans into my personal space, his voice barely a whisper. “That fucking legend needs to be proven wrong. It’s got me all jacked up and thinking things that aren’t there. I mean…how the fuck can my fuckstick turn to steel from a fucking text or the sound of a fucking voice? You tell me that, man. You tell me right fucking now that I will go out and meet the broad and not get my fuckstick tied to that single slice of cunt for the rest of my life, man.”

  Well, hell.

  I bring my fingers to my temple and try to rub the upcoming headache away. I need my fucking glasses, that’s for sure. And how the ever-loving-fuck do I reply to that statement? Not to mention the fact that it’s kinda disturbing the way this guy always refers to his cock as a fuckstick…clearly stating the use of that particular limb. Seems like this club is wrapped in the full effect of the legend, conquering one heart after another in rapid speed.

  “All I can say is…” I release a deep breath, because I’ve been there. “I tried to fight it too, man…but it’s useless. That being said? If it’s anything like how it is between me and my Old Lady? Fucking wished it happened sooner, man. Best feeling, best sex, best connection, best of everything life has to fucking give and then some.”

  “I. Have. Issues,” Barlow hisses through his teeth.

  “Your VP’s and my Old Lady were both captured with the same intensity, Barlow. Meaning they fall just as hard. I’m pretty sure your future Old Lady will be up to handling your issues. But what the fuck, Barlow?” I shove the guy in the shoulder. “You might be all worked up for nothing. Spooked to hell and spiking your body to react while there’s nothing going on.”

  “Ah, like a fake pregnancy, I’ve read about that…boobs all sensitive and shit…it happens, you know, if you wish for something that bad, it can really screw with your…”

  Maci is cut off by Barlow. “I’m not wishing for anything, nor are my fucking boobs all sensitive, let alone my fuckstick. Scratch that, my fuckstick is sensitive. But that isn’t up for discussion. What I meant was, I ain’t going near that cunt that has the potential to grab my…”

  “Fuckstick?” Maci questions.

  I’m done with this shit. “It’s a direct order, Barlow,” I growl. “Get the fuck outside and handle the DEA.”

  “If she’s hot as hell, she might be fucking rotten to the core. I won’t make those mistakes any more. This is all on you, Xerox. A damn DEA agent for fuck’s sake. You know my fucking history.” Barlow’s head falls.

  Maci grabs his shoulder. “Hey, a few tips…watch your tongue with throwing around the word fuck, for one. Second? I fell just as hard and just as fast for Xerox, and Maud told me it was the same for her with Corban. So, if she’s the one, she’s gonna be on the same page. Oh, and the last thing? Fuckstick? Really?”

  Again, I’m done with this shit.

  “Out. Now.” I grab Maci by the hand and drag her into the direction of church.

  “Ryland, take two prospects, Marc and Max, and cover the front. Quill, go with Barlow and keep an eye on things. And don’t let him trick you into handling the DEA, that’s all him. The rest of you, church, now. Mike and Morgan, you too.”

  Yes, I’m splitting up Maci’s brothers. I need the two oldest with us and the two youngest to keep their heads busy. We will fill them in later. The two oldest, Mike and Morgan, both handle their shit well and follow orders flawlessly. They deserve to be treated as equals. And for damn sure, Maci is going to need all the support in there.

  “Sit,” I snap, once everyone is in the room and I close the doors behind me.

  Maci saunters over to Mike and hands him the contract their father signed with Dario. She takes the seat in between Mike and Morgan. Mike reads the papers over and shoves them to Morgan, who proceeds to read them as well. Everyone is dead silent. I don’t want Maci to take the lead in this. She had a rough time voicing that shit to me, and all of them in here need to know I’m aware and we handle this shit my way.

  “That contract was signed by their father, who was forced to do so by Dario. You’re aware of this whole fucked up situation your father created, aren’t you, Nero?” I snap in his direction and all he gives me is a tight nod.

  Nero is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

  “Mike, Morgan,” I address the boys so their attention is fixed on me, and I make them aware of the following fact as a firm reminder. “Your sister raised you and she did everything she could to protect you, yeah?”

  Both boys agree silently, waiting for me to continue, and so I do. “The day that contract was signed, your father went home to get all of you to leave town. Dario caught up with him and killed your mother on the spot, forcing your father to stick to the contract. He didn’t leave you guys, at least not the way you thought. Even before that night, he chose to protect his family and by doing so create the distance that was needed. Didn’t help one fucking bit ‘cause in the end, he was killed during an armed robbery Dario forced him to pull. My gut tells me he set this up so he’d have four young men he could train as his own. That…and a wife for his son.”

  My eyes slide to the fucker who thought he could get a woman through some kind of deal. “I don’t have any fucking clue what kind of fucking scum you are, but with a father like that…you coming here waving that piece of paper…I will gladly throw your body on that pile of corpses lying in the parking lot.”

  Nero pushes himself off the wall, his hands tightening to fists. “The day my father died was the day I took over, swearing to lead the crew in a whole different way. I never intended to keep her to the contract. When you idiots forced us to handle our business outside of this town, I welcomed the idea of setting up roots somewhere else. It was needed. But my half-brother, Enzo, got wind of the contract when he was going through some papers that were locked in the safe. He looked her up and saw the same thing our father saw…perfect soldiers to train. I fought him on the idea, we agreed to move back into town but with the agreement that he was to leave them to me.”

  “That still sounds like you were comin’ for us, asshole,” Mike growls.

  Nero’s gaze locks on Mike. “Didn’t hear you complain when we were getting to know each other. I never forced you to do shit.”

  “You were setting ground, winning us over, asshole,” Morgan pipes in.

  My attention slides to Maci. She’s sitting in between her brothers, chin raised and sitting back in her chair. Looks to me like she’s either waiting her turn, or contemplating Nero’s murder right in front of us.

  Either way, I’m not liking her being this quiet. She’s always fierce and throwing punches before words flow out. Her beautiful eyes land on me. I cock an eyebrow in a silent question and in return she gives me a slight smile. What the fuck is she up to?

  “Oh, fuck…you’re the one who messed with her truck that day, almost making us crash against a fucking tree. The whole coincidental meeting, and asking her out bullshit, glad you were there…fuck that. I knew we were followed that day, I even asked you straight up when you parked behind us, and magically saved the day…fucking knew it…you mother fucker, I’m gonna…” Morgan’s words die as he scrambles from his seat, ready to lunge at Nero.

  “Sit down,” both me and Maci snap in unison.

  Maci smiles at me and gives me a small nod. She drags Morgan down, back into his seat.

  “What was the plan, Nero?” I bark. “You’ve got nothing to lose, put the cards on the goddamn table. You mentioned that you were here to end something. So fucking end it, or all of us will be happy to end...”

  “No one is going to end anyone. Because we have enough of th
at on your doorstep, isn’t that right, Mr. Vallentine?” a female voice states from the doorway.

  Spinning around, I see Tracy, the DEA agent, standing there.

  Barlow is close behind her. She steps inside and cocks her head to the side, eying Barlow. There’s a noise and I swear it sounds like growling coming from him. He stalks closer to Tracy, making her step into the room before he closes the door behind him.

  “Well, hello there…who do we have here? You brought me a toy to tie up, Barlow?” Beecher eyefucks Tracy while he slowly leans forward in his chair.

  Before I can utter a single word, Barlow has his arm wrapped around Tracy’s waist and has her pinned behind him.

  “You don’t fucking touch any-fucking-thing on this goddamned fucking earth, Beecher. You sure as hell ain’t ever fucking touching what’s mine, ya hear? I’ll fucking punch…” Barlow’s words bounce off the walls.

  “Barlow,” Maci snaps. “We discussed the tongue slip about the word fuck.” she scolds.

  Tracy steps away from Barlow and eyes him for a moment longer before her eyebrows go down. “Put a pin in it.”

  “I’ll put something in it alright,” Beecher mutters.

  Fuck. These guys are about to throw punches around when Tracy moves her arm back and wraps it in Barlow’s shirt.

  “Shut it, Beecher. Before I’ll put something in it. Meaning a 9mm. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to need to have a word with your Prez.” Tracy’s voice is filled with authority.

  Beecher’s jaw hits the floor, saliva flowing freely. He adjusts his dick in his damn pants while all eyes are on him. Fuck. This is gonna be a fucking pain in the ass situation.

  “Fucking nasty-ass-biker-idiot,” Tracy mutters before her hand slides away from Barlow. She adds in a sweet voice, “Okay, you big orc. Now you may punch him for me.”