by Jani Kay
We’d been waiting for what felt like forever in life-sucking heat, swatting insects from our faces and growing more restless by the minute. After about fifteen minutes a tall skinny man emerged from the house accompanied by two burly Mexicans. He lifted his chin at my father and the other boys, then held out his hand to introduce himself to me.
“Antonio,” he growled, sizing me up by unashamedly letting his eyes rake over me. “Malone wasn’t kidding. You are a big motherfucker, ’ey?”
I shook his hand, my grip firm and dominant. Just the way I’d been taught. A man got his first impression of another’s strength in the first few seconds of a handshake. Antonio had to know whom he was dealing with. I was young, but I was the next leader of the MC, and I had to make him understand from day one that he couldn’t fuck with me.
Antonio withdrew his hand with a blank face, not giving me an inch of credit. Tough motherfucker. He nodded toward the chair I’d been seated in as he sank down on the worn-out sofa across from my father. His henchmen stood, arms folded, one at the doorway to the house, the other at the gate leading onto the veranda, neither showing any expression on their surly faces.
A girl, around the age of ten, with midnight black hair stared at me with dark chocolate doe-like eyes. She inched closer to me, slowly moving away from her father until she stood beside me. At first she just stared, her gaze running up and down my arms, neck and face, before a small smile curved her lips upward.
My mouth twisted into a smile too—I couldn’t help myself. She reached out, her fingers caressing lightly over the tattoo of a cobra on my left arm. She seemed fascinated by its hooded head and fangs, outlining it over and over with her fingertips.
I sat back and closed my eyes for a brief moment, both arms leaning heavily on the chair’s armrests as I savored her cool and soothing touch feathering over my skin. My breathing slowed right down, calmness washing over as my eyelids grew heavy.
Our fathers sat opposite one another, talking business. I tried my damnedest to listen, to concentrate on the conversation. After all, I was here to watch and learn—not to be distracted by the gentle touch of a child that lulled me into a near coma. Maybe it was because I’d never been touched like that before. Unaccustomed to soft and tender, my nerve endings lit up under her fingers as they travelled up my arm.
“Alessandra, leave the boy alone,” her old man admonished, spitting out the tobacco he was chewing so that it landed only inches away from my feet.
Boy?
He called me boy. Fucker.
I was a man, close to eighteen and growing stronger by the day.
Antonio’s gaze met mine, a warning in their depths to not get too comfortable around his daughter. He nodded toward the house. “Go tell Mama to bring us drinks. With ice.”
The girl froze, then nodded and pulled her hand away. Dipping her head, she turned toward the front door and left. Sitting forward in the chair, my gaze followed her as she disappeared into the house. Damn. Irritation flared under my skin now she was gone.
Waiting until she was out of sight, Antonio cleared his throat then spoke directly to me, narrowing his eyes against the sun. “Already I need a shotgun to keep pricks away from her. Alessandra is destined to become Mexican ‘royalty’.” He curled both fingers in the air when he spoke the last word. “She’s been promised to the Don on her eighteenth birthday. Until then, it’s my job to make sure no man touches her.” He bared yellowed teeth in a snarl, pulling up his top lip to show his aggression. “Gonna be a long seven years. Don Pedro wants a virgin. She’s no good to me if she has been spoiled.”
I laughed uncomfortably. “I don’t play with kids, old man. I got plenty of willing pussy lined up at home.” It was true. I was screwing as often as my dick wanted, eager to learn the fine art of fucking from girls older than me. They were only too happy to teach me.
“Cobra’s having a good time alright,” my old man said, backing me up.
If Antonio thought that kid was his passport to riches that was his problem, not mine. Not that it was any of the old man’s business, but I was a tits man . . . and his kid didn’t have any. Yet.
What I wanted? Huge tits in my face, and hard nipples to bite on. The girls most likely to get seconds in my bed were the ones who allowed me to titty-fuck them.
Yet I couldn’t help but be intrigued. How could her father decide what man she’d end up with? Selling her to the highest bidder, as if she were a piece of meat, for his own gain. A cold chill scurried down my spine, together with the droplets of sweat running down my back.
I shrugged it off. It wasn’t my problem. If there was something I’d learned the hard way in my short life, it was to stay the fuck out of other people’s business. No good came from interfering with agendas I didn’t understand, or motives that didn’t feel right to me.
There was one exception, of course. The day Razor and I had rescued Ryder in juvie, we had no intention of actually saving a boy. No, it was more an act of revenge on Ryder’s torturers—it had been a long time coming because those boys had fucked with us before, and we saw it as an opportunity to get even with them. And we did.
But this? It was something completely different and out of my league. Interfering could cause trouble between us and them, and Malone would have my balls for that. This deal meant a lot to the club—our livelihood was at stake.
Besides, what did I know about Mexican customs or the way things were done in that foreign world? Nothing. And I preferred to stay ignorant. The less I knew, the less it would worry me what happened to the beautiful girl.
“Just remember those words when you come back with your biker brothers. She won’t be a child forever, you know. She is growing up fast and she’s going to be what you Americans call a stunner.” He laughed, seemingly pleased that he could father such a beautiful child. It had to be all her mother’s genes. This old fucker was no oil painting.
The last thing I wanted was to save anyone. It was easier to ignore the unease in my gut and move on, minding club business and what was good for all the brothers. That was what a good president would do, and since I was the next pres in line that was exactly what I’d do.
I didn’t care what happened to the girl-child. It was none of my business. End of story.
Chapter 3 — Cobra
Ten minutes later, a dark-haired woman dressed in the traditional peasant clothing I’d seen other women wear in the village appeared. Ice tinkled against the glasses as she moved forward with a tray of drinks. Her long black hair was braided and hung over one shoulder to her waist.
Except for the wrinkles that etched into her skin around her eyes, she was a beautiful woman—same smile and same lean build as Alessandra, and the same proud carriage of her shoulders. She didn’t seem to belong here; her beauty was wasted on Antonio and his crew.
So that’s what the girl will look like when she’s grown up.
A ginger cat being chased by a mongrel dog appeared out of nowhere. Three steps from where I sat, the cat went into a tailspin as the mutt barked and pounced on its prey.
Seconds later a shrill cry made my head jerk up just in time to see the tray leave the woman’s hands as she tripped over the cat. The tray went crashing down, hitting the top of the dog’s head before colliding with the concrete floor. The dog yelped and ran off into the yard. Water and ice cubes scattered everywhere and then the woman went down too, an expression of fear in her eyes as I watched it happen as if in slow motion.
I lunged forward to grab hold of her, but I was too late to stop it. With a cry she fell to her knees, her palms spread out to break her fall onto the grey concrete floor.
“Watch out, woman. You’re such a clumsy fool.” Antonio’s voice cut through the stunned silence that had followed the breaking of glass. He stepped forward, his face contorted in anger as he kicked the dog, sending it yelping off in the direction of the shed.
Horrified, I watched as Antonio lifted his hand to strike the woman. She instinctively reacted by turni
ng her head away and shielding her face with her arm. Since I was already mobilized, I was within reach of the motherfucker. I grabbed him around the waist and lifting him off the ground, I swung him around so that the blow came down on his own body.
Disgust filled me. I shifted so that I stood between him and the woman, releasing my hold on him by throwing him hard against the wall.
“Fuck off,” he bellowed, his mad fury causing his eyes to bulge out of his head.
I shoved him backwards so that the back of his head crashed against the brick wall with a thud. Taking a step forward, I grabbed a fist full of his shirt and twisted it tightly, pushing him up hard against the house.
“Cobra.” Dad’s voice warned behind me. Guess he didn’t want his business partner nearly dead. Yet he didn’t tell me to stop either. My father hated woman beaters and had stepped in several times at the club when things got out of hand.
“Never lift your hand to a woman.” Trembling with rage, I glared at him. Our eyes met at the exact same level. “What kind of man are you to do that to your own wife?”
“Mind your own business, boy. Here we do things differently. This is my house and that is my wife. So back the fuck off.”
Dad let out a growl from his chair. Antonio was pissing him off.
Widening my stance, I crossed my arms over my chest. “No way in hell will you hit a woman in front of us.” Puffing out my chest, I moved closer so that my face was mere inches from his. “It was an accident, fucktard. She tripped over the fucking cat. It wasn’t her fault. You should be helping her, not wanting to hurt her.”
Before either of us could say another word, Alessandra came barging through the door. She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes wide with the same fear I’d seen on the woman’s face earlier.
Alessandra kneeled down next to her mother who sat helplessly on the floor. The woman’s shoulders slumped forward as she sobbed into her hands. She’d seemed such a proud woman when I first saw her, yet there she was, reduced to a pathetic bundle cowering from her own husband.
“Clean up the mess, Alessandra,” Antonio barked.
“No. Don’t touch it,” I ordered the girl. “You’ll cut yourself on the glass.”
Alessandra’s gaze swung from her father to me, her mouth hanging open as she stared in shock. She’s never heard anyone say no to her father.
Both Antonio’s henchmen had taken a few steps closer to me, literally breathing down my neck. Were they waiting for their boss’s orders to grab me? It would be the biggest mistake of their lives. No man laid a hand on me. Not if he wanted to keep on breathing.
Stepping back, I leaned over and held out my hand. “Come, let me help you up.” For a fraction of a second, the woman’s eyes widened. Hesitating, her gaze moved from me to her husband, then back to me, but she didn’t move.
“Mama, come. We will help you.” Alessandra put her arms around her mother’s shoulders and gave her a reassuring hug. The woman nodded, then lifted her head and placed her hand in mine. It was ice cold, in spite of the heat of the day. I placed one hand under her arm and lifted her.
A small cry escaped Alessandra’s lips. “Mama’s bleeding,” she said. “Please help her.”
Blood ran down the woman’s leg. I leaned over to find a piece of glass lodged just above her knee. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she remained silent. I scooped her into my arms, not giving a fuck what anyone thought, and carried her into the house. I’d seen a lot worse in my short years on the planet, and I knew she was in shock.
“Alessandra, show me to your parent’s room. Then get your mother a glass of water. And I need clean towels.”
The girl walked in front of me and led me down the hallway to a room at the back of the rundown house. I couldn’t help noticing that in spite of its worn appearance, everything was clean and well scrubbed.
“My name is Cobra,” I said softly. “What’s your name?”
“Maria. Maria Alvarez. I’m . . . I’m Alessandra’s mother,” she said softly, pride burning in her eyes.
A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth. “I know. That’s easy to see.” I’d noticed how she introduced herself as the girl’s mother—not as Antonio’s wife. “She’s as beautiful as you, Maria. You should be proud.”
Anguish shifted over her features. Had I said something wrong? I lay her down on the bed and straightened up.
“Does Antonio hit you, Maria?” I asked, not mincing words.
The girl came back into the room before Maria could answer. She dipped her head and avoided my gaze. Yeah, motherfucker takes out his anger on his woman. I was no saint—I’d hurt a few people in my lifetime already—but if there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was a woman beater.
I pushed a strand of hair from her face and wiped over her cheek with my thumb. “I’m sorry,” I said, my tone gruff as blood boiled beneath the surface of my skin.
Alessandra held out the glass of water to her mother. “He always hurts her. I hate when he does that.” Sadness had crept into her voice and my heart broke for her. At her age, she shouldn’t be worrying about domestic violence; she should be playing children’s games and still believing in the good things in life.
“Hush, baby. I’m going to be fine.” Maria gave her daughter a weak smile.
“Clean towels, Alessandra? I need to get the piece of glass out of her leg.”
The girl nodded and scurried out of the room.
Maria squirmed on the bed. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
I sucked in a breath. What kind of question was that?
A minute later, Alessandra reappeared with three threadbare but clean towels. I took them from her shaking arms, then cupped her heart-shaped face in my palm. “You’re a good girl. Stop worrying. We’ll help your mama, okay?”
She blinked back tears that brimmed in her eyes and nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Clearing my throat from the lump that had formed there, I returned my attention to Maria. “I’m going to have a look at your leg now, okay? Stay still.” I pushed the skirt of her dress up just enough to see the triangle of glass sticking out from her flesh.
“Take your fucking hands off my wife,” Antonio growled as he stormed into the bedroom.
I held up a hand, knitting my brows together as I clenched my teeth.
“Stay the fuck where you are if you don’t want me knocking your head off. I’ve done this kinda thing before. I know what I’m doing.” It’s true.
I’d seen more blood than most guys my age. The first time I’d wanted to throw up, but after that I had to toughen the fuck up because blood was a part of our life. Tenacity was my strength. That and not giving a fuck what anyone else thought of me.
Chapter 4 — Cobra
Five years later
Ryder shuffled the cards and dealt out each hand. Back at the clubhouse in Long Beach, I swung a beer to my lips as I laid back against the sofa cushions. It was our normal Friday night ritual. Beer and cards and women.
I was good at this shit. Bluffing came naturally to me, so usually by the end of a few rounds, I’d wiped every one of the guys of their cash and moved on to find a warm pussy to sink my dick into. Only problem was that for the past few weeks not a single woman could satisfy me, so I’d stopped trying to get laid. And I didn’t care if I lost the card games either.
A few of the whores who hung around the club on Friday nights smiled at me and pushed their tits out whenever I happened to glance in their directions. I smiled back and turned away, disinterested.
“Something’s fucking with your head, brother. I’ve never raked in this much cash from you.” Ryder laughed as he leaned over to take possession of his winnings.
If only Ryder knew how right he is.
We’d just returned from another run to Mexico and I’d realized with shock that the only reason I’d agreed to go to that godforsaken place was because I was looking forward to seeing the girl again. We went at six-month intervals, and each time we went
I became more attached to her.
There was something about the girl that pulled at me, a gravitational force I couldn’t deny. If I believed in all that past-life bullshit my mother had, I would’ve sworn we’d known one another in a previous life. I’d never felt as comfortable around anyone as I felt around her.
The girl with the raven hair and huge brown eyes invaded my dreams. I’d been to Mexico on every trip I possibly could worm my way into. My old man was becoming sicker and weaker, so he was relieved that I showed so much interest in the Mexicans. Most of the brothers hated going to the place that was buzzing with insects, consumed by heat waves that drained every ounce of a man’s energy, and consisted of endless miles of nothing but barren country. The only good part was the drinking and fucking, they said. But even that lost its luster after a while.
“Only one thing can distract a man so that he doesn’t care about losing,” Razor scoffed. “And that’s pussy.” He rubbed his hands together as he eyed the pile of cash he’d won. Usually he was out by now and he clearly loved that his luck had changed.
Hammer and Ryder laughed, nodding in agreement.
It’s all true. Every time I saw her, my cock was more determined to have her. Jesus, the ride back had me hard thinking about her sweet mouth and how I wanted to see it around my dick.
And her tits? Okay, I hadn’t seen all of them, but I’d had chances to peek down her blouse whenever she put a drink on the table in front of me. She knew I was gawking. Her eyes would stay down until the last second when she straightened her back and met my gaze full on. I’d groan and close my eyes, sure that her father was watching me closely and waiting to chop my dick off if I acted on it in any way.
“Keep thinking you’re beating me, little brother. Maybe I’m just letting you win for a change so you can feel what it’s like.” I laughed, but it sounded hollow and forced even to my own ears.
I’d never let on what was distracting me. They’d laugh if I told them.
Alessandra had become more self-conscious and aware of her changing body and she hadn’t touched me like she always had before. And although I understood, I missed the carefree child that had always followed her natural instincts.
