Blood and Tears (Holler Ashby #2)

by Jamie Zakian

  Otis followed Sasha to the doorway, snatching the joint and sparking it up. “What went down? You’re covered in blood.”

  “I got some bad news for you, Otis.”

  The car doors of a black sedan opened and two men got out. Otis didn’t know them, but he could recognize a wiseguy any day. Vinny stepped back, Sasha stared at Otis with regret, and Dez was busy yelling at Kev through the phone. These fuckers were going to let him get whacked. That’s cool; he didn’t need the clubmates he had thought were his ride-or-die family. The two assholes coming toward him were already limping. He’d finish them off in a heartbeat.

  Otis curled his fingers into a fist and the tall guy bent over, kissing the skull ring on Otis’ finger. Otis froze, staring at Sasha as the second guy did the same.

  “What the fuck are they doing?”

  “Pledging their loyalty,” Sasha said, rubbing the back of her neck, “to the new Don of the Lazzari family.”

  An invisible fist swung in to strike Otis in the chest, robbing his lungs of oxygen. It must be a joke, mistake, a trick. It was a ploy, to get him to walk willingly into Fat Tonys.

  “I-I. I don’t—”

  Sasha lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing. In this moment, Otis could almost hear her thoughts. A warning. While in front of these men, he could only show strength.

  “Tony died,” Sasha’s voice cracked, but her face stayed strong. “He had no sons, so he left everything to you, his brother’s son.” She stole the joint from his hand, taking a long hit. “Everything.”

  ***

  Special Agent Philip Daniels

  Never in twenty-three years of law enforcement had Daniels witnessed something like this. If he wasn’t watching it with his own eyes through binoculars, he’d never believe it. His perp was good. This little girl had accomplished what no others could, killed the boss of all organized crime and replaced him with her man. That must’ve been her plan all along. The fake coma, her conveniently timed trip back to Kentucky when Antonio’s son got popped, she was running the long con.

  Daniels shifted in his seat, tugging at his pants. That fucking slut. He hated how his body reacted to thoughts of slamming her against a wall. She made him get hard, evil bitch. The way she leaned back, moving her pawns around her chessboard. He couldn’t wait to smash Sasha Ashby’s face into a metal table and toss her ass in a cell, forever. He would get the girl no one else could get.

  A throb spread out beneath his skin, cutting his breaths short. He had to stop this, had to concentrate. There was only one way. He loosened his belt, hiking down his pants. A gasp broke free as his hand glided up and down his shaft. He looked out the window, tightening his grip. Her wickedness wafted across the parking lot, seeped into his car, and infected him, making him do this vile thing.

  Shivers ran through him but he kept his eyes on her and his hand in his lap, working it faster. He’d take her, break her, force a confession. And when she was alone in the dark, forgotten, he’d really take her. That smart ass would be his, to do with as he liked. Then, when she was too broken to fight, he’d leave her in a dark cell until the day she died.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sasha

  The moment Sasha stepped from the shower, Dez climbed inside. She wrapped herself in a towel as she walked from the bathroom. He’d waited on purpose. There was more than enough room in the shower for both of them, yet he stood in the bathroom and waited. His gaze didn’t even flash to her naked body as she slinked by him.

  Scratchy carpet tickled her toes as she walked across the room to her bag on the dresser. Most likely, Dez was trying to be respectful. His refusal to touch her, look anywhere below her face, was probably his idea of giving her space, his notion of comfort. It wasn’t comforting. The only thing Dez accomplished by treating her like a wounded animal was making her feel like a wounded animal.

  Sasha ripped off her towel and tossed it in a corner. Wet strands of hair slapped her arms as she pulled on her last clean tank top. She’d have to put her dirty pants back on, unless Vinny had a pair she could borrow. They’d be extra baggy, but that was better than bloody. Until she was forced to leave this room, a tank top and underwear would do.

  The shower cut off and Sasha crept toward the cracked-open door, weaving to get a glimpse. Hints of inked flesh peeked through the slit, drawing her closer. The door flew open, she jumped back, and Dez smirked. It was the first hint of a real smile she’d seen from him in what felt like ages.

  Her gaze dropped from the incredible sight of a Dez smile down to something even more magnificent, his bare chest. She wasn’t able to get a good view the other day, when he was pounding her from behind, but goddamn. How could she have forgotten the cool shade of his tanned skin, the ripples that cut across his stomach?

  “You trying to peep on me?” Dez grabbed onto the towel wrapped around his waist. “Wanna see?”

  “Don’t.” Sasha shrank back, shocked by the levels of fear that ran through her body. Sharp arms of fire rose in her chest, her fingers trembling. She had to keep cool, play along. A half-smirk crossed her lips, but that was the most her punk ass could muster up.

  “You’re scared,” Dez said softly. He turned his back, pulling on his jeans before losing the towel. It was classy, made Sasha want to rip his pants right back off. She would fall into his strong arms but that damn fear, which surged uninvited, rooted her legs in place.

  “I understand, you know.” Dez smoothed back his long, wet hair as he plopped on the bed. “It can be hard to get close to someone after something like that happens.”

  Dez stared at her, his eyes leering, wanting, the way they always had. That one look brought more confidence to her sorry self than all the stabbing, shooting, and sledgehammering she’d done so far.

  The knots in her stomach unraveled, allowing her to walk across the room and sit on the far end of the bed. “Did anything like that ever—” She clamped her jaw shut. She really didn’t want to know if Dez had ever been assaulted in that way. It could crumble the image she built of him in her head. Must be how he felt about her, now that she’d been ruined.

  “Shit got close.” Dez scooted over, just enough for his hand to brush up against hers. “Real close my first night in. My roommate was this huge woman-beating psycho. He said he’d choke me out and skull-fuck me if I didn’t give him a blowjob and make it good.”

  “Fuck! What’d you do?”

  “I bit dude’s dick off.”

  Sasha turned to gawk at Dez. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Well, it was just the tip.”

  “Oh my God!” A giggle took Sasha back, flat against the mattress. She rolled onto her side and Dez propped onto his elbow beside her, staring into her eyes.

  “You want to burn one?” he asked without moving a muscle.

  “Yeah.” The bag of weed was on the nightstand, behind Sasha, but she didn’t budge. The different shades of blue in Dez’s eyes held her captive. Her body craved his soft kiss, his rough fingertips, his firm hold. Strength radiated around him, so strong it sent shivers beneath her flesh. If he touched her now, the shivers would grow to quakes and not even his strong arms could quell them. It made her want to both jump on his lap and crawl into a closet and hide at the same time.

  “Thanks,” Dez said, his breath running over Sasha’s cheek. “For saving me from your insane father.”

  “Anytime.”

  Before she could smirk, his lips covered her mouth. The twisty thoughts in her brain fell silent. Heavy chains of fear shattered, leaving only Dez’s hard body to glide, press, energize her soul. If only he’d reach around and grab her ass, she could be that woman again. The one people died for, killed for, feared.

  Dez slid his hand down Sasha’s side, and her throat sealed shut. His fingers traced her hip, skating down. Every light touch drove her lungs to pump, yet air refused to pass through her cinched airways. Then he clutched her ass. The imprisoned breath, which seared the walls of her chest, burst free as a laugh. Whatever magic
Dez possessed, it somehow replenished the weakened muscles given to her upon waking from a coma. Just a little closer, and she could be her old self again.

  Sasha pressed against Dez harder, gripping him tighter, and his shoulder flinched.

  “Sorry,” she said, gently pushing him back to the mattress. “I forgot, you’ve been injured.” She climbed atop his lap. Her chest glided along his hard body as she leaned down to kiss the patch of fresh stitches on Dez’s shoulder. “It must be throbbing.”

  Dez squirmed, grinding against Sasha. “You’re about to find out.”

  A devious gleam ran through Dez’s eyes, kick-starting a frenzy in Sasha’s chest. Electric-laced tingles swelled, rolled, crawled beneath her skin. She thought the need to want another person this close was gone, yet the desire to feel Dez slip inside her surged so hard it left an ache. For returning her stolen mojo, Dez deserved a proper thank you.

  With one finger, Sasha popped open the button on Dez’s now super-tight jeans. She leaned down for a kiss when the motel’s door flew open. Its knob slammed against the wall, almost at the same time as Sasha gripped onto the gun under her pillow.

  “What the fuck is this?” a woman’s grating, whiny, sharp voice rang out.

  “Rosalie,” Sasha grumbled, climbing off Dez. That bitch was like the clap. Sasha should grab the gun and use it on herself.

  “You’re in here fucking some guy!” Rosalie yelled, her bracelets clanking with every over-exaggerated hand gesture.

  Dez jumped off the bed as Rosalie stomped toward it, but Sasha didn’t move. She sat on the edge of the mattress, her gaze stuck to the floor. Once Rosalie’s tanned leg, attached to a tapping red heel, broke her peripheral, she had no choice but to follow it up. Beyond the muscled thighs that peeked beneath a leather mini, past a tight waist strategically flaunted by a sheer top, she found a cute scowl.

  “I thought you came back for me,” Rosalie said, slapping on a thick pout.

  “Jesus Christ,” Dez all but growled, voicing Sasha’s thoughts exactly.

  Vinny and Otis ran into the room, guns drawn. They froze, bumping into each other when taking in the scene. It must’ve been a sight, Dez with no shirt and his jean button undone, Sasha on the bed in basically her underwear, and a saucy Italian woman dressed a bit like a hooker.

  “What’s all this now?” Otis snickered.

  “Out,” Sasha shouted. “Everyone, get the fuck out.”

  “No problem,” Dez muttered, grabbing his shirt and pushing his way to the door.

  “No, not you,” Sasha said, reaching for Dez, but it was too late. He slipped out the door, walking into the night without a glance back.

  “Fuck!” Sasha yelled, kicking the nightstand and sending the lamp crashing to the floor.

  Vinny stood in the doorway, bobbing like a retarded duck, and Otis leaned against a dresser, making himself quite comfortable.

  “Come home with me.” Rosalie knelt down, maneuvering between Sasha’s legs. “You’re all beat up. Let me take care of you, baby.”

  Rosalie pawed Sasha, clutching onto her waist, draping her arms around Sasha’s neck. Every time Sasha pulled away, the woman’s hands came in stronger.

  “We can take a bath,” Rosalie whispered, licking Sasha’s ear. “I’ll make you some primavera.”

  The situation had grown far beyond the standard limitations of annoying, and Otis snickering in the corner wasn’t helping.

  “Dammit, girl.” Sasha took a firm hold on Rosalie’s wrists. “How many times do I have to end it with you?” She jumped to her feet, yanking Rosalie up along with her. “You’re making yourself look like a fool.”

  Amid an outburst of “No-baby!” and “Please!” Sasha dragged Rosalie to the door.

  “Don’t let me see you ‘round here again.” Sasha shoved the whiny bitch into Vinny’s chest, pushing them both clear of the threshold, and slammed the door shut.

  “That was harsh,” Otis said between chuckles.

  Sasha groaned, pointing to the door that rattled under a barrage of pounds behind her. “Bitch is crazy. The boys tried to warn me about her.” She grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, plopping onto the bed. “But goddamn, that woman could cook.”

  After a few seconds of listening to Rosalie yell her name while constantly pounding on the locked door, Sasha grabbed her gun.

  “No,” Otis said, plucking the glock from Sasha’s hand.

  “I’m just gonna scare her off.” Sasha hopped off the bed, reaching for her gun as Otis lifted it higher.

  “I’m the Don, and I say no.”

  “Fuck!” Sasha backed away, lit a cigarette, and slammed the lighter onto the dresser. Otis was un-fucking-believable. The dude hadn’t even been officially titled yet and he was already playing the Don card.

  “You know,” Sasha said, dropping back against the headrest, “you’re only half-Don. I hold fifty-percent of the interests in the Lazzari family.”

  “Okay.” Otis popped out the clip, emptied the bullet from the chamber, then tossed the gun onto the bed beside Sasha. “Here’s half your gun.”

  “Nice. Asshole.” A long, loud huff slipped past Sasha’s lips. She sat back, waiting for the psycho-bitch to clear her doorway. Otis smirked every time Rosalie shouted “I love you!” through the flimsy wood, which pushed Sasha’s annoyance level up a notch.

  “You better have a joint in your pocket,” Sasha all but spat, narrowing her glare on Otis, “because this show ain’t free.”

  ***

  Vinny

  Vinny leaned against the wooden beam of the motel’s porch. He couldn’t help but stare and snicker. A scorned lover’s spaz-attack was far more entertaining when he wasn’t on the other end of it. He had to give it to Sasha, she had great taste. This woman had legs that lasted for days. And that rearview. Her hips swayed every time she banged on the door, jiggling that firm ass within the confines of its tight leather skirt.

  The woman quit her screechy shouting and stopped pounding the door. She turned, yelping at the sight of Vinny. Guess the broad didn’t figure on drawing an audience with her giant hissy fit.

  “What the fuck are you staring at?” she barked.

  She crossed her arms, which only propped her already overflowing cleavage farther out the top that barely held them in. Damn the woman was cute. Even with the flared nostrils and bonus crazy chick points, she was totally fuckable.

  “I’m staring at a beautiful woman in need of a joint,” Vinny said, flashing a smile as he pulled a doobie from his breast pocket.

  The woman giggled. In the bat of a highly painted eye, her entire body shifted from attack to prowl mode.

  “Are you in Sasha’s crew?” she asked, slinking in front of Vinny.

  The question came with a million bad intentions, mostly on her end. Thankfully, Vinny lived hundreds of miles away and really didn’t give a fuck.

  “Yep. Looks like you had a rough night.” He brushed a stray hair behind the chick’s ear, flashed a grin, and she nearly melted on the sidewalk. “Wanna burn one, talk about it.”

  “I love your accent,” she said, running her hands up Vinny’s chest.

  “Damn,” Vinny muttered, dropping his gaze. Experience taught him to stay away from women who dropped the L-word within the first five minutes of chatting, but he was headed for the hills come sunrise and wouldn’t be returning to this hellhole. “Oh yeah.” He reached for the woman’s waist slowly, giving her plenty of time to slap his hand away. Since she didn’t, he latched on and pulled her close. “What does my accent sound like?”

  The broad draped her arms around Vinny’s neck, rubbing against him. “Like a real man.”

  That was the cue. Vinny tightened his grip, backing the chick who didn’t even bother to drop her name into his open motel door. Her lips locked onto his before one foot could brush shag carpet. Cash jumped up from the bed as they barged inside, wavering in the center of the room. Vinny tore himself from the tongue that had practically rammed itself dow
n his throat and hurled Cash a leer. His buddy knew that stare and was out the door in seconds flat.

  Now that they were alone, closed up in a tiny motel room, Vinny could peel that woman’s tight top off except he didn’t get a chance. She wiggled out of her shirt, then ripped his off in a heartbeat. Damn, these city women moved quick. Not to worry, he knew just how to slow her down.

  Vinny clutched the woman’s curvy hips, lifting her feet from the floor. She tightly wrapped her legs around his waist. He laid her down on the bed, keeping in sync with her rough kisses, but she wouldn’t let go. Her thighs squeezed, back arching so she could press against him harder. He had to literally pry her off him, hold her down as he stood.

  “Damn, girl. Simmer down. I wanna enjoy this.”

  She squirmed. Her eyes narrowed in the most playful, naughty way as her hand slid between her legs.

  “Oh no,” Vinny said, pushing her hand away. “I got this.” He knelt down, yanking her to the edge of the bed. The gasp that followed sent a shiver up his spine. His jeans would’ve burst open, except that damn woman had unbuttoned them before they even got near the bed.

  Her skirt slid up with ease, mostly because she tugged it out of Vinny’s way. Her entire body shuddered with his slightest touch, and her fingers curled into his hair. A nibble to the inner thigh set off a series of loud moans. Fuck, this bitch was going to be a screamer.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sasha

  Sasha took two hits before passing Otis the joint back. For the way he stood there, gawking like a perv as she lounged on the bed in her underwear, she deserved the extra hit.

  “You gonna hide out in here all night?” Otis asked through a stream of smoke.

  “Maybe.”

  “Do you know how many chicks Dez was with when you were gone?”

  Sasha shrank back, despite the joint Otis waved in her face. This had been information she’d been dreading and dying to obtain, and now it dangled in front of her. Just like that roach in Otis’s grip.