Monster (Cazadores MC Book 1)

by Brook Wilder

  I swear I almost fainted.

  We moved to the music. He spun me around as his hips moved easily to the fast beat. He took over the floor and owned it. I managed to keep up and he made sure I could follow. April laughed when he dipped me to the ground. I was lost in his deep brown eyes and that lazy smile of his.

  “Blonde girl got rhythm," laughed Rhoda.

  I spun around and he caught me in his strong arms. The song ended but he held me a second longer until the next one started. It was a slow one. April shot me a wink while Rhoda gave me a thumbs-up. Oscar’s body felt so warm against mine as he held me close. I thought he sniffed my hair as I felt his breath on my ear. I wanted to stay in his arms for the rest of the evening. I didn’t care who watched us but eventually, he let me go. I wanted to follow him like a lamb when he walked away to join the other men, but I stayed put.

  Waving a cloth over her sweaty forehead, Mama returned from the kitchen holding a tray of quesadillas. Mama let us help in the kitchen a little, but she wanted her son to spend time with the pretty girls. “There’s plenty of food,” she shouted above the music. “You all better eat. Buen provecho.”

  “What does that mean, April?” I asked.

  “It means, ‘enjoy your meal.’”

  “Buen provecho,” I repeated.

  “Yes, you’re learning,” she said. “You’ll need to learn the language if you’re going to date Oscar.”

  My face...no, my whole body blushed. “We’re not dating. We only just met.”

  “Oscar is picky about everything,” said Rhoda. “If he’s not interested, he’s not interested.” She glanced over at Marisol. “But he’s interested in you. We’ll see, Little Lamb, if you can tame the lion.”

  I giggled like a schoolgirl, and then it happened. We all heard the rapid fire of gunshots and bullets hitting the house. April screamed as a window shattered and glass sprayed the room. The children scrambled off the couch and huddled together on the floor. Someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me down. The inside lights turned off. Bright flashes lit through the window and popping sounds echoed off the walls. Some bullets zipped through the air over our heads.

  Guns in hand, Oscar and the other man ran out onto the porch. The loud exhaust of several bikes roared off into the distance as they raced away.

  I didn’t know Oscar had a gun.

  More men ran to the windows and out the door. They fired at the fleeing bikes. Another window shattered then someone screamed, “Call 911!”

  The lights came on, revealing Mama on the floor. My heart lurched in my chest as people rushed to her side. She breathed heavily and grabbed her chest in pain.

  “Call 911! Where’s Oscar?”

  I grabbed my purse from the couch, but it had fallen over in the commotion and the contents were spilled all over. My phone was missing. I tried to look under the couch but by that time, someone else had called. I tossed my bag away and tried to comfort the little girl with the angel wings who wailed in the corner. I hugged her and rocked her while watching helplessly as the woman who had invited me into her home and treated me with kindness and respect lay on the ground gasping for air.

  Oscar ran back inside the house and knelt beside his mother as Marisol held her hand and rubbed her chest. Another man ran outside to do what, I don’t know.

  “I’m not waiting for an ambulance,” the man shouted. “They always come too late. Get her in the car. I’ll drive her to the hospital.”

  Everyone did as they were told, and Oscar carried his mother to the waiting car. After they left, approaching sirens sounded from down the street. People left in a rush. Some men went through the back door, and the sound of motorcycles leaving through the back alley bounced off the walls.

  April, Rhoda, and I stayed on the ground with the children. The little girl held my hand as I held her close. It was too late to give her protection, but maybe I could ease her crying. Why would someone do this to innocent people? And then I remembered that Oscar wasn’t innocent if he’d been in jail.

  “You okay?” Oscar knelt beside me with his hand on my back.

  My eyes snapped to the gun in his other hand. I couldn’t make my mouth move.

  “Little Lamb, you okay?” he asked again.

  I willed my lips to open, but no words came out. I nodded instead. My eyes never left that gun until he put it away in his waistband.

  “Yes, Oscar.” I murmured. “I’m okay. Where’s your mother? I thought you were going with her.”

  He frowned at the question that seemed to annoy him. “Emilio is driving her to the hospital. I’m to stay here and deal with the police.”

  Oscar helped me up off the floor as the sheriff and his deputy entered the house.

  Chapter 5

  Oscar

  Felicity looked terrified as she crouched on the floor shaking and clinging to a child. I should have known better than to invite a stranger inside. Of course, some ass would welcome me home with gunshots, and worse, in my mother’s house. Mama and her friends were clean people. They weren’t involved in club business. Once again, I’d been shown why the two should never mix.

  I slipped my gun between the couch cushions as the sheriff and his deputy walked from the hallway into the family room. It must have been a slow night for Sheriff West to clock a trip that fast over the highway. I ignored him and approached his deputy. Deputy Maria Lopez was originally from the neighborhood, and she played fair. She would want to know my mother had been driven to the hospital.

  Probably looking for drugs and guns, Sheriff West narrowed his beady, little eyes and scanned the room. He wasn’t going to find that in my mother’s home, but I stood in front of the couch just in case. His paused when he saw Felicity beside me. Deputy Lopez looked a little shocked, too. Felicity, her eyes glued to the sheriff, was shaking harder than when I’d first seen her walking down the street. In two quick steps, West was on Felicity and grabbed her by the arm. I moved forward and he put his hand on his holster. Deputy Lopez stepped between us.

  We watched in stunned silence as he hauled a stumbling and stammering Felicity out of the house.

  “What was that about?” I asked Deputy Lopez.

  “That’s his daughter.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  I gave the signal while Deputy Lopez walked toward the front door to check on West. Any member who hadn’t left needed to get out now. I sent Rhoda upstairs to knock on the bedroom doors. She knew the knock to use. Two short taps then three quick. I strode outside. It was my family’s property and I could stand wherever I wanted, but I hung back. I listened to West shout at his daughter. She shouted back. Good for her.

  “They’re not thugs,” she said.

  “You shouldn’t be here with these people,” hissed West.

  “Why?” She stood firm with her hands on her hips.

  “Why? There was a shooting.”

  “Someone else shot at their house. No one inside fired. There are women and children in there.”

  “You think they’re innocent?” replied West. “They bring this on themselves.”

  “Serve and protect,” said Felicity. “Isn’t that meant for everybody or just for your rich friends?”

  “Felicity, don’t try me. How am I supposed to protect you if you don’t use common sense?”

  I was surprised Little Lamb wasn’t backing down from her father, the sheriff. He was no friend to any of the clubs; not to ours, to the whites, or to the blacks. He was a racist, but he hated us all equally.

  He grabbed Felicity, and I took a step forward. Wisely, Deputy Lopez held onto my arm.

  Felicity looked back at the house and saw me watching. She bit her lip and hung her head. Tears glistened on her cheeks as she climbed into the patrol car. I wanted to tell her I didn’t blame her for her family.

  West sped away with his lights blazing. He had to be furious to leave a deputy behind without a vehicle or backup. I sucked in air, and Deputy Lopez let go of my arm.

  “It’s always the ri
ch kids. Right, Deputy?” Marisol joined us outside. She smiled as the sheriff’s car disappeared. “They’re the real troublemakers. Daddy’s a cop or daddy’s a preacher, and the kids are a wild mess always looking for trouble. You know, her sister was shot last year at a party. She liked to hang out with the Disciples. Though I heard she also liked to get on her knees for the Nation and suck cock.”

  “Enough!” I shouted. “I don’t want to hear this petty shit. Not at my mother’s house. Marisol, you sound smarter with your mouth shut.”

  Another patrol car arrived as the neighbors watched from across the street. I went back inside to check that everyone who needed to be out were gone.

  Deputy Lopez called the hospital. Mama had had a stroke. She was in stable condition and on life support. The doctor said if she hadn’t gotten to the hospital as quick as she did, she wouldn’t have made it. I wanted to go, but Emilio knew that if one of us hadn’t stayed, the cops would’ve looked around and maybe trashed the place looking for anything that might lock us up. Not all cops were bad in Northside. Deputy Lopez was good, and she promised to keep me informed on any developments into finding out who had done this. Her offer was kind, but the Cazadores would find the bastards without her help.

  Chapter 6

  Felicity

  “So, where is your friend?”

  It wasn’t a question; it was a demand. My father so furious, he was driving like a lunatic. He swerved the patrol car onto the main road to take me to Southside.

  “She’s not here.”

  “I can see that, Felicity. Where’s Jane?”

  I didn’t have the nerve to tell him she’d been in the house. Then I realized I hadn’t even gone to see if she was okay. Jane could have been shot just like the man I saw standing by the side of the house clutching his arm. I wondered if they took him to the hospital.

  “Felicity!” Dad shouted. “Where is your friend?”

  “I couldn’t find her.” My nerves had left me with tears and shaking knees. Dad was too angry to reason with. I could tell by the way he was speeding toward the house.

  “Are you lying to me?” he asked.

  “No, I couldn’t find her. I swear.”

  “Was Jane even coming?”

  “You think I made it up?”

  He didn’t answer. My father used silence as a punishment. He would ignore us until we begged him to speak to us again. I remember he barely spoke to Faith the month before she was killed. After coming home from work, he’d walk into the house, acknowledge Mom, then me, and walk past Faith as if she was air.

  As children, we’d have cried or thrown a tantrum after months of this treatment. But as a teenager, Faith decided she didn’t need to talk to him either. She spent less and less time at home. Why bother with a curfew if you weren’t going to get yelled at anyway? Mom would try her best to discipline Faith, but she never had the same threatening presence Dad did. Faith was out past curfew the night she died. I wondered if Dad ever regretted not speaking to her.

  “I didn’t lie about Jane,” I said quietly.

  “Then where is she?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t make her up so you can sneak out and be with those people?”

  I spun around to face him. I glared at his profile as he drove. "I was looking for Jane and I didn’t plan on being there. The man who owns the house helped me two men were harassing me. Two white men by the way. His family and friends were very kind to me. It’s not their fault someone shot at their house.”

  I was sobbing and paused to wipe tears off my face with the back of my hand. I was angry-crying, which only made me more livid. People never took a crying girl seriously.

  “It is their fault,” he growled. “It’s their fault your sister is dead.”

  “Your daughter wasn’t anywhere near ‘those people’ the night she was shot. She was shot…”

  “Quiet,” he shouted. “I know where she was shot. I also know why she was shot. She didn’t know how to stay out of trouble. All you young people think you’re bulletproof. Nothing will ever happen to you. Well, shit happens, Faith.”

  “Felicity.”

  “What?”

  “You said the wrong name.” He’d finally answered my question. He did regret not speaking to Faith.

  His pulled into our driveway, and I jumped out before the car came to a stop. Dad leapt out, leaving the motor running and caught me by the arm before I could get away.

  He could take his crap choices out on someone else as far as I was concerned.

  “Felicity, sweetie, baby,” he said gently. “I’m just trying to take care of you. I’m not angry with you. I’m disappointed in your decision. I’m upset there are bad people in the world who want to hurt you, and you don't seem to know that.”

  I nodded but couldn’t look him in the eye. He meant well, and in a way, I guess he was right. But I’d wanted to believe he trusted in my intelligence enough to know I could tell when someone wanted to hurt me.

  The porch light came on and Mom opened the front door. She ran outside to hug me as if I was a lost child returned safely home by a kind officer.

  Even as my mother held me close, all I could think about was Oscar. I wanted to see him again, find out if he and Mama made out okay, but I probably wouldn’t be able to.

  Chapter 7

  Oscar

  Despite everything, it turned out to be a pleasant night with a clear sky and a cool breeze. I stood outside smoking as I watched the patrols cars drive away. Seven cars showed up and I kicked a torn patch of sod with my boot. I don’t know why the deputies parked on my momma’s front lawn. Probably to remind us all they could do as they pleased. I sat on the porch and bent my head while the breeze cooled my skin. It would’ve been a nice night to sit outside, but everything had gone all wrong.

  After an hour, all the cops left except for Deputy Lopez and Deputy Dave Robinson. Maria assured the others she’d take their statements alone. But Deputy Robinson stayed behind with her. I got the impression Sheriff West would’ve had his ass if he didn’t, regardless of what West had done himself. I resented the insinuations, but it was obvious I was in the Cazadores. My colors were safe at home in my apartment closet, but men in the MC have a certain manner and attitude a smart cop can pick up on. It’s a confidence from being stronger, quicker, and braver than other men because you have your brothers to watch your back.

  Deputy Lopez sat down beside me on the porch. “So, anyone else on the property?”

  “No Deputy, Carlos isn’t here.”

  She shot me a look with a sharp eye.

  “Cut the formality, Oscar. You can call me ‘Maria’ when no one else is around.”

  “Well, Maria, Carlos isn't here. Some members left before the shooting, but this was supposed to be a family party."

  "What else did you see?"

  "We saw bikes speeding away, but we didn’t fire. They sounded Japanese. You know, the high hum, not the low rumble.”

  “The Nations ride Suzuki.”

  “They do but I couldn’t I.D. them. Only saw the backlights as they sped away.”

  “Do me a favor, Oscar.” Maria placed her pad on her lap and looked into my eyes. “Let me do my job before you get involved.”

  I took a long drag on my cigarette. “It’s my mother who’s in the hospital.”

  “I know, but you just got out of prison. Don’t you want to spend some time with her before you go back?”

  “Is that what you Deputies call sarcasm?”

  Maria knew my mother was my soul. My father was dead, and I was the man of our little family now. My job was to protect her, and I hadn’t. Her home, the home I bought for her, had been shot at because a coward thought they could get away with it. Now, Mama’s only job was to heal, and my job was to kill the S.O.B.

  Maria took the cigarette out of my fingertips and tossed it toward the driveway. I had to laugh and shake my head. Maria knew our family too well. Twelve hours wouldn't have
passed, and I’d have someone in my grip beating the truth out of them. In frustration, I hit my open hand with my fist, and startling her, but she recovered quickly. Maria was good at wearing a mask, especially after dating Carlos.

  “Oscar, call me before you do something stupid. Be smart this time.”

  I nodded and walked Maria to the car where Robinson waited.

  A few of my mother's friends stayed to clean up. The ladies loved my mother, so they wanted to help me. I was thankful because I had important things to do. My gun was still wedged in the couch, and it didn’t need to stay there. When I lifted the cushion, I found a pink phone covered in glitter.