Flesh and Blood (Dixie Mafia Series Book 1)

by Cynthia Rayne

  “Belle’s your woman?” Voodoo asked.

  Dix nodded.

  Ace grunted. “Footage was grainy, but I thought she looked familiar.”

  “You saw her?” Dix asked.

  “Coyote installed a hidden surveillance camera.” Voodoo pointed to an innocuous temperature gauge on the sidewalk. “It’s motion-sensitive, so we knew every time he came and went. We saw a woman on the feed when Yo went through it.”

  “Figured we’d check on the lady, make sure she’s okay.” Ace thwacked Emmett again. “You been snatchin’ up girls?”

  Byron chuckled. “You done fucked up, Emmett. The biker boys hate bastards who mistreat the ladies, even more than they hate us.” Then Byron marched over to the thermometer, snatched it off the wall, and smashed it with the heel of his boot. No evidence.

  “And you’ll be takin’ care of it?” Voodoo studied Dix in a disturbing way—like the man tried to see into his soul or some such.

  “It’d be my pleasure.” Dix brandished the weapon to prove his point.

  “Good.” Voodoo nodded.

  “Hold on. You’ll get the insurance money.” Emmett raised his hands. “Don’t do anythin’ rash. Just give me some time.”

  “Fuck the money! Wait a minute…insurance?” Dix grabbed Emmett by the shoulders and got in his face. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

  Emmett was wide-eyed. “Not me… David.”

  The bastard who’d tried to kidnap her? Then it all fell into place. David was Emmett’s partner…also known as motherfucking Darrell.

  “You gave your own daughter to a killer?”

  The blood drained from Emmett’s face, turning it ashen-white.

  “Answer me!”

  He nodded.

  “I’m gonna kill you, but first I gotta save her.” Dix ran for the hotel room and threw his body against the door. He whipped around to shout at the bikers, “Get this fuckin’ thing open. Now!” Then he rammed it again. “Belle, I’m here. I’m comin’ for you.” Dix pounded on the door.

  A muffled scream came from the room.

  Voodoo groped his own ass, presumably searching for a master key in the tight leather.

  “Break the damn thing down, for fuck’s sake.” Dix rushed the door again.

  Voodoo pushed him aside and unlocked it, then backed off.

  Gun raised, Dix went in first with Byron right behind him. Brax and Ten brought up the rear. They shut the door in case any locals got nosy.

  “Come any closer and I’ll slit her throat.” David pressed the knife into Belle’s neck.

  “You came for me.” Her eyes were large and wide, bright with tears. “I knew you would.”

  “Course I did, Red.” Dix kept his movements slow and easy, so as not to spook the bastard.

  There was so much blood. She had gaping wounds on both thighs and a slash on her left arm. Blood stained the covers beneath her. She might bleed out before the standoff ended.

  “Step away from the girl and you can walk away, David.” Dix lowered the gun. “Or should I call you Darrell?”

  “Neither one is my real name. And quit bullshittin’ me. You won’t let me live.”

  “I ain’t lyin’.” Although, Dix didn’t mention the armed bikers in the parking lot.

  “What about your friends?” David’s gaze darted to the men behind him.

  “They’ll let you go.”

  After a slight hesitation, everyone put their weapons away, though Byron grumbled about it.

  “You got a deal.” David gathered Belle against his chest, using her as a human shield.

  “Don’t move her—she’s lost too much blood.”

  “I ain’t fool enough to trust you.” He dragged her, and Belle whimpered. Blood gushed from her wounds.

  David was right. Dix would’ve shot him between the eyes as soon as he was a safe distance away.

  The bastard lugged her toward the exit, and she wailed.

  Dix clenched his fists.

  David opened the door, stepped outside, and then pitched her forward.

  Dix caught her and swung Belle up into his arms.

  Two guns cocked behind David, who put his hands on his head. Voodoo pushed him back into the room. Dragging Emmett, Ace stepped in behind them and shut the door.

  “Are you okay, Red?”

  “Now I am.” Belle sagged against him, and Dix carried her to the bed. The corners of her mouth trembled.

  “I’m so sorry.” Dix kissed her forehead. Then he wadded up pillow cases and staunched the wounds.

  “Not your fault.”

  This was partially his responsibility—Emmett had kidnapped her because of him. Being around Dix jeopardized Belle’s safety. She deserved to be safe, protected.

  If you truly love someone, you put their needs above your own.

  “I gotta handle somethin’ then I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  Belle nodded and closed her eyes.

  “Ten, get your ass over here and patch her up.”

  While Ten fixed her up, Dix dealt with David. The bastard stood with his back to the wall, hands raised. Byron and Brax held him at gunpoint, while Ace and Voodoo guarded Emmett.

  “You’ve killed before?” Dix could smell it on him.

  “I surely have.” David rocked back on his heels.

  “You ain’t the only one.” He fired one shot right between the eyes. Brain matter and blood splattered the wall. David’s body tumbled to the floor.

  “You coulda did that in the bathroom.” Voodoo pointed to the bloody beige carpet.

  Dix shrugged. He didn’t give a damn about it right now. “We’ll be takin’ Emmett off your hands too.”

  Emmett glanced from Voodoo to Ace. “I can pay you, or we could work out a deal. I—”

  “Shut it, pops. This here’s the roach motel.” Ace punched Emmett in the face.

  “Ain’t no roaches in my hotel.” Voodoo shoved Emmett toward them. “I’ll send a prospect over with some trash bags and industrial cleansers. And the room better have a Mr. Clean-like kind of sparkle when you’re done.”

  Bryon pointed a gun at Emmett.

  “We’ll make it squeak,” Dix promised.

  “It’d be a shame if you boys left some DNA behind.” Voodoo cast a sly smile toward Byron. The outfit had blackmailed the Four Horsemen into helping them. Dix would make sure they didn’t give the bikers any sort of leverage against them.

  “We ain’t stupid…unlike some people I know,” Byron said pointedly.

  “We’ll see,” Voodoo replied enigmatically. “We got a biker with medical training in the club. You want me to send him over?

  “I’d appreciate it,” Dix said.

  Voodoo thumbed a quick text message, and the bikers sauntered out the door.

  Before he dealt with Emmett, Dix checked on Belle.

  “How’s she doin’?” he asked Ten.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and Dix took her hand in his own. Her fingertips were cold.

  Ten knelt on the other side of the bed. “Not too shabby, all things considered. I’m glad the bikers got a man with medical trainin’, ’cuz she needs some blood.”

  “What’s going to happen to him?” She glanced over his shoulder at her father.

  “This story can only end one way, Belle.” Dix refused to sugarcoat the situation. Belle deserved the truth from him. She’d had more than enough liars in her life. “Unless you want to intercede on his behalf? I’ll consider it, if you’d like.”

  “Belle, I’m your father,” Emmett pleaded. “Please don’t let them do this.”

  She deliberately turned her head as though she didn’t want to hear him.

  “What’s goin’ through your mind?” Dix whispered as he brushed the tears from her cheeks.

  “Emmett abandoned me, planned on murdering my mother, and left me here to die.” She bit her lower lip. “I suppose I’m not as moral as I used to be. I can’t…I don’t….”

  “I’ll take care of it.” She didn’t n
eed to say another word.

  “But not you.” Belle clutched his hand.

  “What?”

  “I don’t want you to be the one who—please pick someone else. Anyone else.”

  Dix had been looking forward to settling this score, but he understood. She didn’t want to bed down with the man who murdered her own father. And he had an idea in mind that’d be much worse than a quick bullet between the eyes.

  “Belle, please!”

  She gritted her teeth.

  “Shut the fuck up.” Byron punched Emmett in the mouth.

  “I promise I won’t be the one who handles it.” Dix kissed her temple. “Ten’s gonna carry you out of here, and one of the biker boys is gonna make you right as rain again.” He’d take her to a real doctor, but they’d have too many questions.

  After Belle had been squared away, Dix backed Emmett against the wall.

  “I know how much you liked workin’ with David. You’re in luck. We got us a psychopath of our very own.”

  Truth be told, Dix didn’t like Ten—no one did—but the man enjoyed killing. And situations like this made Dix grateful they’d hired him despite his black hole of a past. Unlike the rest of them, he hadn’t grown accustomed to violence or justified it as the price of being in the outfit. No, Ten relished the kill, took genuine pleasure in taking someone out.

  Any bastard who’d harm his own daughter deserved to be put down by someone who got off on it.

  “We can work somethin’ out,” Emmett wheedled.

  “No, we can’t. I’m willin’ to eat the 50K to be rid of you.”

  “Mr. Wolf, I can pay it back. If you’d give me another chance—”

  “You ain’t got a clue what you missed out on. Your daughter’s amazin’—funny, smart, beautiful. Belle is one of a kind, and you threw her away.”

  “You’re in love with her?” Emmett shook his head in disbelief.

  Dix started to deny it, but couldn’t. Damn, I forgot what it feels like. Somehow, he’d gone and fell for her. She’d brought his cold, dead heart back to life.

  “Then you shouldn’t kill her old man.”

  Dix throat-punched him.

  Emmett clutched his neck, choking and coughing.

  “All you care about is savin’ your worthless hide. You won’t get another chance to hurt her.” He pointed to Ten. “Let’s do this.”

  With a wide smile, Ten grasped David’s blade and herded Emmett into the bathroom.

  “You comin’, Byron?” Dix asked.

  “Ten makes a mess, and I’m wearin’ new boots.” Byron glanced at Brax. “Move your ass. You’re gettin’ a front row seat to the show.”

  Brax gulped then slowly walked in the bathroom.

  Ten shoved Emmett against the bathtub and sliced the buttons from his flannel shirt. One by one, they pinged on the tile.

  Emmett shook.

  “I learned about pain at a young age.” Ten made a shallow cut near the old man’s belly button. “You’d be amazed at what you can handle. When I was six, I learned how to swallow it—force it down. You won’t survive this, of course, but you can manage the agony until its time.”

  What the fuck? Dix didn’t want to know what Ten was talking about.

  Ten plunged the knife into Emmett’s abdomen then edged it upward, tearing into his guts, spilling them onto the floor. Blood poured from Emmett’s mouth as he screamed in pain.

  Brax puked.

  “How’s it feel?” Ten placed a palm on either side of Emmett’s face, drinking in his pain and despair.

  A victim could survive being gutted—for hours if the torturer was sadistic enough. Dix had seen a lot worse so it didn’t faze him, but Ten’s delighted laughter shot ice down his spine. It was unhinged, disturbed. He tried to avoid assignments with him because Ten always went too far. Dix worried one day the man would lose his shit, go on a killing spree, and enjoy the fuck out of it. Dix didn’t want to be at ground zero when it happened.

  “Enough of this freak show. Step aside.” Dix aimed the gun at Emmett.

  “Hey, I was just gettin’ into it.” Ten whipped around, knife in hand. “Ya’ll ain’t no fun.” Grumbling, Ten stalked out of the room.

  “You’re a sick, twisted fucker.” Beauregard grabbed the weapon and tossed it to Brax.

  Dix focused on Emmett. “I ain’t breakin’ my word. You’re already dead. This is mercy.”

  “For me?” Emmett’s eyes were heavy-lidded, and he was already starting to drift.

  “For her.” Dix shot him between the eyes, and he hit the floor.

  Byron turned to Brax. “Lay the body on the shower curtain and cut his ass up, we need to trash bag it. When you’re done, take care of David too.”

  “You’re serious?” Brax gaped at the bloody knife. “I can’t carve up a body.”

  “Pull it together.” Byron got in his face. “You want to be a big-time gangster? Well, this is the job. Get it done.” After the mic-drop moment, Byron sauntered out of the room.

  Brax stared at the mess on the floor, his throat working.

  “At least he’s dead when you’re cuttin’ on him. Wait until you got a live one on your hands.” Dix clasped Brax on the shoulder and left the soldier with his first dead body.

  Dix didn’t feel a bit bad for Emmett—the bastard had deserved it. He’d spent his life visiting cruelty on the ones who loved him. All things considered, Emmett had gotten off light.

  Dix had an even more painful fate in store.

  A woman like Belle didn’t belong in his world. She deserved to live in the light.

  And it was time to set her free, like he’d done with his own child.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next few days were hazy and disjointed.

  Belle was in and out of consciousness from the painkillers and sheer exhaustion. She had vague impressions, snatches of awareness—Dix sitting at the end of the bed with red-rimmed eyes, Ten checking her stitches, Vick bringing her flowers.

  When she could focus again, Belle remembered what had happened—her own father had delivered her into the hands of a serial killer. She couldn’t process it, not in her wounded state. Everything hurt too much. His abandonment had left her feeling worthless and unwanted, but this rocked her to the core. Soon, she’d have to deal with it, but not yet, so she put it out of her mind and focused on healing her body.

  Then one day, the fog cleared.

  Belle woke up gradually, becoming aware of her surroundings—light filtering through the gauzy curtains, the hum of a vacuum downstairs. Bleary-eyed, she focused on Dix sitting beside her. He fed her two painkillers then held her hand.

  “Welcome back, Red.” Dix kissed her forehead then lay next to her. He spent the day with her, watching television and talking.

  Dix had told her she could depend on him, trust him, and after he’d come for her at the hotel, Belle believed him. He might be the only man she’d ever consider trusting because he’d proven himself to her. They both still had a long way to go when it came to relationships, but maybe they could work on their issues together and see where it led.

  Dix babied her until she felt better. The staff brought meals upstairs, and he insisted she stay in bed. Ten stopped by once a day to change the dressings and check her wounds. And while Dix was busy with work, he left her with plenty of entertainment—every musical soundtrack he could get his hands on: Les Misérables, Miss Saigon, and everything Andrew Lloyd Webber had composed.

  And when she was strong enough, they made love.

  One evening, she woke to find him in bed beside her. Dix was fresh from the shower, water droplets dribbling down his chest. She reached for him, and he kissed her, running greedy, grasping hands over her upper body, hungry for her but still mindful of the injuries.

  After he carefully arranged her limbs on two pillows to give him access to her core, Dix had plunged into her. There was an urgency to his lovemaking she couldn’t quite grasp, a sharper edge. But she needed him too and was soon lost
to the demands of her own body. Dix took her again and again, in a frenzy.

  After he was spent, Dix slumped on top of her, staying inside her for the longest time, as though he wanted to weld their bodies together somehow, make them one. Inexplicably, tears came to her eyes, and she had the sense something had shifted, altered—even though he hadn’t said a word.

  The next morning, Belle awoke to find herself alone in Dix’s bedroom. She reached for Dix but came up empty. Where had he gone? It was Saturday, and he liked to lounge in bed on weekend mornings.

  She padded to the wicker hamper in the corner of the room. His discarded white button-down shirt lay on top of the pile, and she slid it on, relishing his warm scent lingering on the fabric. Then she made her way to the guestroom and grabbed a pair of yoga pants to wear beneath it. Her legs and arm still ached, but she didn’t have the searing pain like before.

  Belle went downstairs and found Vick in her office, working on a weekend.

  Dix’s office door was ajar, and the room was empty.

  “Morning,” she said, then squinted at the clock on the wall. “Yikes, make it afternoon. I can’t believe it’s nearly two.” Lately, she couldn’t get enough rest. She was no longer in and out of consciousness, but Belle averaged twelve hours of sleep a day.

  Vick waved. “Hey there, sleepyhead. I made some fresh coffee if you want some.”

  “You’re an angel.” Belle fixed herself a big mugful and took a seat in Vick’s office. The hacker typed on the keyboard and didn’t say a word. Usually, Vick was warm and chatty.

  “Is something wrong?” Maybe Vick and Jasper had a spat. Or Dix had been a jerk to her.

  “Wrong?” Vick acted as if she’d never heard the word. “Why would anythin’ be wrong? Everythin’ is super fine.”

  Belle frowned. “Um, okay. Do you know where Dix went?” She glanced over at his office, as if it’d make him appear.

  “He didn’t say.” Vick pressed her lips together.

  Yeah, I’m not buying it.

  “You know something.”

  “No, I don’t.” She pushed a hand through her hair, pulling it over one eye as if to hide her face.

  “Hello, former counselor here. I can read body language. What do you know?”