by J, Bella
Onyx kept staring at me, moving his legs up and down as he leisurely leaned in the chair. “You okay?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“No. But you seem a little pale.” The grin on his face was all sarcasm.
“You killed a man.”
He snorted. “You’ll need to be more specific. I’ve killed a lot of people, sweetheart.”
“The guy who held me as a shield. You shot him.”
He nodded with a smirk on his face. “Hence the reason you’re here today, alive and breathing. A thank you would suffice.”
I lightly shook my head at his arrogance. “Thank you for saving me, and then kidnapping me again.”
“Well,” he slapped his hands on his knees and got up from his seat, “it’s my pleasure. Now eat your food and behave.” He winked at me, making it clear there was nothing wrong with his confidence.
And judging by how chuffed he seemed with himself, killing people was something to be proud of around here. It made me even more aware of how much danger I was really in.
“Why am I here?”
Onyx stopped then turned to face me again. “That, you’ll have to ask Granite.”
“Granite?”
“My brother. He’s the only one who can answer your questions. I’m not on his current favorites list, so the last thing I need is to piss him off by saying shit I shouldn’t.”
I looked down to the ground. “Granite,” I murmured softly. After years of watching him from my bedroom window, I finally had a name. It was probably something I could have found out on my own if I wanted to. But I never tried to figure out who and what the American Street Kings were, who its leader was. I liked the mystery that surrounded him. In fact, I was drawn to him even more because of it. Yet, with each passing second since they took me, I cursed this infatuation I had with him.
“Anyway. You should eat. Clearly, you need some meat on those bones. I hope you like turkey sandwiches.”
I snorted. “I doubt I’d be able to eat anything right now.”
Onyx studied me, the light coming through the window bringing out the intense blue of his eyes. Even though it was beautiful, his eyes didn’t beg me to stare back at them the way his brother’s did.
“That’s one shiner you have there.” He motioned toward my face where it ached.
Gently, I placed my fingertips against the skin. “Yeah.”
Onyx stared at me for two seconds before moving to the cabinet on the other side of the bed. Only when he opened it, pulling out a bottle of water, did I realize it was a bar fridge.
“Here.” He walked over to me and held the bottle up to my face, but I jerked back, and he stilled. “I’m not going to hurt you. Relax.”
Terrified, I froze, not knowing what to expect. My stomach wanted to leap out of my throat when he leaned forward, but then he gently placed the ice-cold bottle of water against my eye. “Keep it cold, for the swelling.”
I placed my hand over his, taking the bottle while keeping it against my face. Onyx took a step back, his eyes never leaving mine. This act of kindness was unexpected, yet I didn’t let my guard down.
“Thank you,” I murmured, inching back more.
“Yeah. Sure.” He turned and walked straight out the door, but then turned and glanced over his shoulder at me for a few seconds…then left.
Tears slipped down my cheeks, the adrenaline in my veins finally giving way so reality could seep through. It was terrifying, and something I never thought would happen to me. Shit like this always happened to other people. This was the kind of story you’d see on the news or hear over the radio. Girls who got kidnapped, raped, and murdered—not necessarily in that order. Just thinking about me ending up naked, broken, and alone in a ditch somewhere was enough to push the bile up my throat.
For a moment, I allowed myself to ask a shitload of what-ifs.
What if I had stayed just ten minutes longer with Red, telling her the story behind the tattoo she inked on my thigh?
What if I ignored my mom’s phone call, and rather decided to drive off?
What if I just never went to Red’s in the first place, getting the damn tattoo?
Over and over, I allowed myself to relive that scene, to try to figure out what happened. Who those men were. And where my dad’s men who followed me disappeared to. They were there in their SUV one minute, then gone the next. How was that possible?
My legs began to quiver, too weak to keep me upright anymore. With my back against the wall, I slipped down to the ground, still holding the water bottle against my eye.
I wiped at my tears, my tummy hurting with the pain and fear that possessed by entire body. It was crushing, like I was trapped between two walls closing in, squeezing the life out of me. What I wouldn’t give for this all to be nothing more than a goddamn nightmare.
The bag Onyx tossed on the bed caught my eye. Did they really think I’d feel like eating? God, this all felt too insane to be true.
I cracked open the bottle of water and took a few sips before closing it and placing it against my eye again. It was kind of Onyx to give me something for my bruised eye, but Red always said if the devil gave you a kind gesture in hell, be prepared to pay for it in blood.
God, I wished Red was here. She would have known what to do, what to say to keep me strong. She always did, which was why I loved her like the sister I never had. I remembered the day I graduated high school, when all I wanted was a congratulations and a hug from my mother. Instead, she took me straight home where a new ballet instructor waited for me. My mom reminded me how hard I was going to have to work in order to make it into Juilliard, and she made sure I realized what was at stake if I didn’t. Her reputation.
I looked down at my bare feet, the Band-Aids around my toes still intact. Back then, with the new instructor, my toes ached and bled after the first lesson. It was brutal, and the worst part, my mother sat there the entire time. Even with tears in my eyes and blood on the floor, my mom didn’t stop it. She just sat there with a scowl on her face, scolding me every time I fell. That night, I cried so hard it felt like my ribs would crack in half. When Red came over, she sat flat on her ass next to my bed and gently pulled her fingers through my hair.
“The only person who can allow her to break you…is you.”
That night, the penny dropped, and Red’s words helped me build a wall around my mind in order to keep my mother out. After that, I never gave my mom the satisfaction of seeing me cry again. The brutal training didn’t stop. It continued with my mother spectating. But I never cried a single tear when my mom was there to witness it.
“The only person who can allow them to break you…is you.” I heard her voice like she was sitting right there next to me.
If I had the backbone to survive an entire childhood with my mom, I could survive a few bikers, right? I just needed to keep my head and not let the horror of the unknown break me. With every war you needed to fight in your life, your mind would be the battlefield. If you could control the battlefield, you could win the war.
I crossed my legs under me and took a few more sips of water, thinking about what happened. Onyx shot the guy who threatened to kill me. For a few short moments, I thought they had saved me from the kidnappers, but now they were the kidnappers. It was a complete mind-fuck, and I had no idea how to wrap my head around it. If it wasn’t for them saving me in the first place, I would have said this was all because of me being the police commissioner’s daughter, and that it had something to do with their midnight dealings with my dad. Maybe my dad pissed them off. Maybe my dad owed them money. Who the fuck knew? But I was confused as to why—if my dad pissed off the Kings—there were other kidnappers trying to take me.
Dear God. Was I the target of two criminal syndicates? Jesus. It was a miracle I was still breathing.
And what did Granite mean by saying I knew why I was here? Why did he look at me the way he did, like he knew me? As if he knew my deepest, darkest secrets? Like he knew my most sor
did desires?
Did he bring me here because of something my father did? Or did he bring me here because of something that had nothing to do with my dad, but everything to do…with me?
7
Granite
I couldn’t sleep. Not while she was underneath my goddamn roof. It was like I had this giant vortex inside my head, twisting my thoughts in her direction, making me think of all the warped fantasies I’d had about my pretty ballerina. All those nights I watched her dance in her parents’ back yard played over and over inside my mind making my dick hard.
It was already dawn when I eventually got to my room, so I decided to go to the gym, punching the shit out of a boxing bag. Looked like Onyx couldn’t sleep either since he was right next to me kicking the crap out of another boxing bag.
“Did she eat?” I glanced at him.
“Dunno. I didn’t stick around.”
“Did she say anything?”
Onyx swung around and gave a hard back-kick. “Just that you were one ugly mofo.”
I grinned then flung a fist at the bag. “What did you give her to eat?”
“Turkey sandwich.”
I stilled and caught the swinging bag. “Are you kidding me?”
Onyx shrugged. “What?”
“She doesn’t eat bread, you dumb fuck.”
“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”
“She does ballet, Onyx. Do the math.”
He lifted a brow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this is a goddamn B&B.”
I pulled the gloves off my fists and tossed them to the ground. “Get Neon to take her a fucking salad or something.”
“Dude, the girl is as thin as a fucking stick. She can do with some carbs, if you ask me.”
“No one asked you.”
“Good God, why are you being such an asshole right now?”
“I’m not.” I turned and walked in the other direction, but my stubborn-ass brother followed.
“Ah, yes, you are. You’re on edge more than usual.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Onyx remained on my heels. “You’ve been more on edge than usual since last night. And now you’re all up in my grill over a goddamn sandwich because she doesn’t eat bread. I call that on fucking edge.”
I stilled, placed my hands at my sides, and took a deep breath. Onyx was right. I was on edge. He was also right about her being as thin as a stick. Girl had a serious weight issue, and it was clear to everyone around her, except one—the demon behind her misery. The mom who claimed to know what was best for her little girl. Well, I called bullshit. Bitch only knew what was best for her, and no one else. I knew everything there was to know about Alyx’s life. For years, I watched her, studied her, followed. Her being a ballerina was just a way to pull a blindfold over the eyes of the rest of the world. No one questioned it because ballerinas were supposed to be…tiny. But Alyx wasn’t just a little underweight. Her goddamn spine protruded from her back, her body lacking the healthy curves of a twenty-year-old. But she was still beautiful. And still mine.
“You’re right.” I turned to face my brother. “I’m just on edge about this whole thing.”
“Why?”
I pulled my hand through my sweaty hair. “Because last night didn’t go exactly as planned, and you know how I get when things don’t go according to plan.”
My brother relaxed a little. “Dude, relax. We got this. So, we underestimated the Python prospects. Turns out the fuckers had slightly bigger balls than we thought. But we pulled it off. No big deal.”
I sighed. “I know. Just don’t do any more stupid shit that can fuck all this up, okay?”
Onyx grinned and crossed his heart like a goddamn Girl Scout. “You got my word.”
“I don’t want your word. I want you to do as you’re fucking told.”
I walked over to the fridge, grabbed two beers, and tossed one to Onyx before opening mine. The fact that it wasn’t even noon yet didn’t do shit to stop me from chugging down the whole fucking bottle. “Dad would piss in his grave if he knew what we were doing.”
Onyx took a seat on one of the benches. “I’m pretty sure the second that Python stuck his blade into Dad’s stomach, Dad knew this war was inevitable. If he was here, he would have agreed we had no choice. If we don’t deal with these Python fuckers now, they will grow the balls to challenge us even more.”
I shoved my hair out of my face. “Yeah, I know.”
Onyx gripped the beer bottle tighter, his knuckles turning white. “You and I and the rest of the club will show those Pythons that we won’t be fucked with. You don’t kill one of ours without carrying the consequences.”
“No mercy. Never surrender.” I glanced his way.
My brother nodded. “That’s right. No mercy. Never surrender.” He downed the rest of his beer and threw the bottle against the wall, glass shattering everywhere. “Fuckers!”
I didn’t even flinch when the bottle hit the wall. I just scowled at him. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. But when I think of those filthy Pythons, all I want to do is break something. Preferably their fucking necks.”
Onyx just turned twenty-eight, and with me being six years older, I got used to him being unable to control his anger—which was exactly what happened last night. He was so amped up to kill those Pythons, when the opportunity presented itself, he grabbed it with both fucking hands.
“Don’t worry, brother.” I got up, walked over, and placed my hand on his shoulder. “It’s been years coming. We’ll avenge his death soon.”
Onyx slapped his hand on mine, a brotherly gesture. He might have been a pain in my ass sometimes, but I loved him, nonetheless.
“You should get some sleep.”
“Nah. Don’t want to waste daylight.”
I grabbed a towel from the rail. “Get one of the prospects to clean the mess you made.”
Onyx snorted. “You not done in here?”
I picked my gloves up from the ground and slipped them on. “Not by a long shot.”
“Fucking masochist.”
I laughed then heard the gym door close as Onyx left.
I threw a few punches, tried to get into it so I could tire myself out and get some rest. But it didn’t work. There was too much adrenaline in my veins, too many fucking demons fighting to get out. The more I thought about how the Pythons killed our father with two of our other guys, the angrier I got. They massacred our loved ones without blinking, and then had the balls to go after our business. Well, not while I was fucking president.
These streets belonged to us long before they decided to cruise in on their cheap wheels, pretending they could own everything they touched. They were so fucking desperate and knew the only way to get in our turf was to take out the big guns of our MC. That was the only way for them to have a shot at getting our business—a business we had been running for years.
Unfortunately, in our world, there was no such thing as a loyal client. If the Sixes could get their ammo cheaper from another distributor, they’d take it. No matter if we had been doing business with them for the last twenty fucking years. That alone cost us a lot of fucking money because we had to keep on lowering the price just to keep the Sixes’ money rolling in.
Even though it had been years since they massacred three of our men, we weren’t ready to retaliate until now. We were too hurt, the pain too strong. Pain and grief made men do stupid things, and to take out a club like the Pythons, we couldn’t afford to make stupid mistakes. But we were ready now. Our grief had turned into strength, and we were about to take down the filthy fuckers who owed us blood.
Just like the Pythons, we weren’t saints either. We ran our own little corner in hell, doing what we had to in order to survive. But who didn’t? It was an eat-or-get-eaten world out there, and we fucking devoured whoever got in our way.
Take Manic—the man had anger issues. It took a special kind of stupid not to notice. But that s
car on his face told the story of a man who had endured the flames of hell repeatedly. We didn’t know much of his past, but we did know he’d been passed from one foster home to another ever since they found him on the streets when he was fifteen. What happened to him before then was a secret he carried alone. But it was here, with the Kings, that he finally found a place he could call home—a place where he fit in.
Then there was Ink—a walking fucking hard-on. I’d be the first to admit we didn’t see eye-to-eye in the beginning. But my dad kept saying there was something special about the prospect with his skin inked all the way down from his neck. Naked, those tattoos looked like a fucking suit. It was after a patch over in Pennsylvania that Ink and I started to get along. We got hammered so bad that night, I forgot my goddamn name. Drunk out of our minds, we decided to trash some random rich-bitch’s house and made good use of the backyard pool. That was the night I saw what lay beneath the layers and layers of ink. Scars. Too many to count. After that, Ink had all my respect. Fucker deserved it.
I threw one final punch before grabbing the swinging bag. I caught sight of the big, bold, blue letters on the wall. Stone’s Gym. No mercy. Never surrender.
Stone was the name on my father’s patch, hence the reason my brother and I got the names we had. We were all cold, hard sons of bitches. But we were a fucking family, and in this gym, we took care of those who needed it the most.
It always amazed me how the world stereotyped us as being criminals pretending to be backyard grease junkies. We didn’t run a mechanic shop or deal with motorbike parts in order to hide what we really did.
My dad and fellow founders weren’t angels. They didn’t make this club what it was today with love and charity. Sometimes, when you wanted to do some good, you needed to get your hands dirty with the bad. And our sins ran deep. No one knew that better than me. Trading in illegal firearms and selling weed to our own special circle of customers wasn’t exactly a tax-paying, nine-to-five job. I always wondered if that was the reason behind my father’s decision to work with the police commissioner. Maybe it was his way of atoning for all the wrong we did—that, and to keep the PC turning a blind eye to our business affairs.
