by Kim Jones
“Something like that . . . You?” She nods her head toward my laptop and the scattered papers around it I’d planted just for her to see.
“Nah . . . just being a nerd.” We watch a couple of westerns, enjoying the silent company. But after a while, I know I can’t postpone it any longer.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I tell her, feeling her head nod into my chest. “I’m not coming back.” Slowly, she drags her head up until she is looking at me—searching my eyes for humor, or doubt, or any other emotion that’s not truth.
“Where are you going?” she whispers. I close my eyes, memorizing the sound of her voice—something Dirk did when he knew Saylor was soon going to leave him.
I cradle my hand around her face, whispering back to her. “I just have to go.”
She shakes her head. “But I don’t want you to go.”
Fuck.
“I live a really messed-up life, Diem. There is a lot of darkness and pain. I cause a lot of that. But I’ve never regretted it. Never felt bad about the people I hurt.” I swallow, letting Rookie’s definition of me resurface in my brain. “I’m not a forgiving guy. I don’t have remorse for my actions. I’m selfish and reckless and tarnished.”
“But you’re not like that with me,” she cuts in, her body curling deeper into my side.
I smile. “No. I’m not.”
“Why?”
At first, I’m not sure what to say. But something is happening inside me. I’m overwhelmed with a feeling. A feeling so intense that it stretches my heart to the point of bursting. My chest expands with pride as the knowledge registers in my brain. I love her. I already knew this, but for the first time, I really believe it. Love is a feeling that cannot just be felt, it has to be expressed—it has to be said, and my throat burns with the desire to tell her. So, I do. Without hesitation.
“Because I love you, Diem.”
She melts in my arms from relief. It’s like she’s been waiting for me to tell her this—like she needed to hear me say it to reassure her that this is the same feeling she has too. Her eyes become shiny with unshed tears as she gazes up at me with a look of longing. This is a Diem I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her like this. And it will be the last.
“I love you too,” she breathes, and I can relate to her feeling of relief. She’d just changed my whole fucking life with three little words.
She loves me.
And suddenly, that’s all that matters.
* * *
I made love to Diem after that. We were the picture-perfect, Hallmark-card couple for the remainder of the night. But now it’s morning and I have to leave. And that sweet couple from last night is long gone.
“I’m not cooking shit. I’ve done told you that.”
“Babe,” I coo, grabbing her around the waist in the kitchen.
She stomps my foot, causing me to release her before unleashing her wrath on me once again. “What did I tell you about those pet names? If you’re hungry, eat some cereal.”
“We don’t have any milk,” I spit through my teeth, hopping around the kitchen on one foot.
“Well then take us out for breakfast.”
“Fine, I will,” I snap. And I do.
“So,” she starts, picking at her eggs. We’re in the Hillsborough Diner, in our same booth, and she has barely touched any of her food. “You’re really leaving.” I nod, staring at her, but she avoids my gaze. “I meant it when I said I didn’t want you to leave.”
“I meant it when I said I love you,” I tell her, offering her a smile when she raises her big dark eyes to mine.
“I know. I just don’t understand. Is this really good-bye?” I look away, watching as Rookie pulls into the parking lot. He’s here . . . ready to take me to my doom.
I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine. She looks at our fingers, entwined together. “Look at me, Diem.” She does and I can see the hurt and confusion there, and I hate it has to be this way. I hate that I hurt her. And that I lied. “If things were different, I’d spend the rest of my life arguing with you. I’d let you cook me shitty eggs every morning.”
She smiles, shaking her head. “You know that will never happen.”
My smile dies when I realize that it won’t. “In another life, I could have made you happy. Really happy. I’d have done things different. I’d have made you my queen.” Rookie’s horn sounds and I know if I don’t leave now, we’ll miss our flight.
I stand and grab my bag. Handing her the keys to my truck, I shoot her a wink. Then, I leave her with my signature good-bye . . . the last one she will ever hear from me. “See ya around, pretty girl.”
20
DIEM
HE WALKED OUT the door and I realized he really was the one . . .
The one who’d just broke my heart.
21
SHADY
AT THE BAR in Jackpot, we’re all gathered for the meeting. There is no round table with our emblem in the center or thick, wooden doors separating us from the outside world. Instead, we’re on a patio sitting on coolers and broken chairs, smoking blunts and cigarettes and drinking beer. This concrete slab is where all important National matters have been handled since the beginning of time. Today, it feels no different.
“Dorian wants a meet,” Jimbo says, still unable to look me in the eyes. “Death Mob contacted them, said they had proof that Sinner’s Creed was killing their guys. They want to wage a war, but Dorian wants to hear everyone out first. Says he has an announcement to make and we all need to be there.”
Dorian is the king. Not just of the Underground Mafia, but of every organized crime gang in the States. Everybody answers to him. But Sinner’s Creed and Death Mob are the two biggest affiliates and produce the most revenue. If he’s calling a meet with us, something big is about to go down.
“I suspect that Death Mob is going to present their case. They’re gonna want you, Shady, just like they wanted Dirk.” For the first time, he looks at me. His eyes are dull and lifeless.
This is a part of his job that we all hate. But I’m a soldier. So I ease my leader’s mind by telling him, “I’m ready.” And I am.
“Rookie,” Jimbo calls, and Rookie appears from the back corner of the patio. “I need to know where you stand.”
“I stand with Sinner’s Creed.” The words are hard for him to say. He’s just admitted that he won’t take the fall. That even if I go down, he will stand and say nothing. Because the club needs him alive. It proves his loyalty to the club, and to me. I would expect no less of him. This is one of those trying moments I trained him for.
“Good. Meet’s tomorrow. Stay the fuck outta sight.”
* * *
Rookie and I ride to Dirk’s house. I still haven’t had the courage to go inside, but now I have no choice. Pushing open the door, the scent of citrus surrounds me, and one step over the threshold, I stop and take it all in. Covers still litter the floor from our last night in this house together. It was a sleepover that sounds absolutely ridiculous, but was exactly what Saylor wanted, so it’s what we did.
I walk through the living room, glancing into the kitchen and small dining area before walking down the hall. Their room is untouched. Fuck, I miss him. The pain seemed to dissipate somewhat when I was with Diem. She filled the void in my life when Dirk left. Now she was gone too. Soon, so would I. There was no need to dwell on the ache in my chest from Dirk leaving. Because tomorrow, I’d be joining him.
* * *
Silence—it’s deafening.
And I feel like I’m the only one that hears it. It’s like someone has hit the pause button on my life, and I’m having an out-of-body experience, watching the scene unfold before me. Eight black, steel horses ride six inches apart in two straight lines down an open highway. Their riders are dressed in black. Full face helmets hide their identities. There is no w
ay of knowing who we are, until the dark blur of our posse passes. Then the colors of Sinner’s Creed patches that cover our backs are shown proudly.
We are earth’s hell. If there are those that don’t fear us, they damn well should. We’re the outcasts. The forgotten. The bad guys. The one percent of those who don’t give a fuck. We are evil. We appear to stand still, while everyone else rushes away from us, out of fear, praying that we’ll hurry and pass them by. That’s how much power Sinner’s Creed exudes.
This is why we do this. This is why we chose this life. We are superior. We feel immortal. And we are lethal. Everybody wants to feel important, and we’re the motherfuckers that you have to prove something to.
And on what could be my final ride, I look at myself as I ride free and open down the highway surrounded by my brothers, and ask one question. Was it worth it? And behind my helmet, I nod. And I tell myself, “You damn right it was.”
* * *
In the small town of Taylor, Nebraska, just off the North Loup River, is a warehouse. It belongs to the Underground Mafia and is used for storage of products until they’re ready for distribution. Dorian pays well for the piece of private property that can’t be located on any map. Few people know about its location, and they won’t say anything in fear of dying or not getting paid.
Two unmarked, black SUVs sit at the gate when we arrive. A man who could give Tank a run for his money steps out and waves us through. When we pull inside the warehouse, I take full count of all the guns including the men standing guard on the second level.
The sound of our pipes reverberates off the metal walls of the large, empty building. We’re directed to the right and straight across from us, within spitting distance, stands ten very proud Death Mob members. Front and center is Cyrus, the very soon to be dead killer of my brother.
Silence descends as one by one we shut off our bikes. My fingers twitch to put a bullet between the eyes of Cyrus, but I refrain. If I don’t, I’ll have to watch as my brothers die too. I’ll have my chance very soon. I might die today, but that motherfucker is going with me.
We stand in front of our bikes, glaring at our enemies across from us. Everyone wears the same pissed-off look—all but Cyrus, who smiles like he knows some fucking secret the rest of us don’t.
I hear the sound of tires on gravel moments before a black stretch limousine pulls into view. Several of the guards rush to surround the car and I can tell by their actions that this is the infamous Dorian none of us have ever seen. One of the goons opens the door and he steps out. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him. He’s tall, Greek, wears a suit worth more than my Harley, and has an air about him that informs us all that he is the man in charge. The only thing he’s missing is a cigar and a beer gut.
His black eyes quickly scan the room, warning us all with his pissed-off look. Men fear him, now I see why. He’s intimidating as fuck. His back straightens as he buttons he suit jacket, then he reaches his hand back into the car. I watch with curiosity as an olive-toned leg wearing a red high heel steps out moments before the woman becomes visible.
She’s beautiful.
She’s powerful.
She’s sexy.
Intimidating.
Cold.
Lethal . . .
She’s Diem.
My heart stops. The world stills. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but I can’t force it back down. My instincts tell me to go to her. To protect her. Although, she doesn’t look like she needs protecting. She exudes as much power and authority as Dorian. I don’t know what she’s doing here, but judging by the determination on her face, she’s here to prove something. And just when I think shit can’t get any worse, Dorian speaks.
“My new second in command,” he announces, his voice low and raspy and more threatening than I could have imagined. “My daughter, Diem.”
I can feel Rookie burning holes in my back. I turn to look at him, giving him a small shake of my head before looking away. I can tell he’s confused as fuck, and so am I. I’m fighting to keep my shit in check. I don’t know if I should feel heartbroken, betrayed, or horny. She’d once told me she was someone important. She sure as fuck wasn’t lying about that.
She looks exquisite in a long dress with a slit that travels all the way up her thigh. And it’s blood red—her favorite color. Her eyes are cold, her expression unreadable, and she scans the crowd but has yet to notice me. When she finally does, she lingers on my face a second longer than anyone else. The only thing she gives away is the slight rise of her right eyebrow, then her gaze moves on. That one moment is all I need to know that she is just as surprised to see me here as I am to see her.
“My friends,” Dorian starts, clasping his hands in front of him. Diem stands to his right, keeping her attention focused on anyone who isn’t me, but not being obvious about it. Following her lead, I focus my attention on Dorian and try to regain control over my wandering mind. But her words keep flashing through my head.
“I’m not his little girl anymore . . .”
Not because he was in prison. Because he was her boss.
“I called you all here today for a few different reasons,” Dorian continues, the powerful sound of his voice forcing me to forget my thoughts and pay attention. “First of all, it seems that the two of you are having some issues.”
His eyes move to Cyrus, who gives him a nod of confirmation. Then, like the fool he is, Cyrus speaks. “That’s right. We have some big issues.” He looks over at me, then spits, and I roll my neck, feeling my blood rush faster and faster to my head. Now I have Dorian’s attention.
“Him?” Dorian asks, pointing a finger at me. Diem looks in my direction, but her gaze seems to go straight through me. “Would you like me to go ahead and kill him now?” he asks Cyrus. I don’t flinch, and neither does Diem. She remains impassive and completely detached. Either what we had was never real, or she’s a damn good actress. I’m hoping like hell it’s her acting skills.
“I’d like to do the honors,” Cyrus says, and it’s enough to break my concentration with Diem and smirk at him. But I’m smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
“Business first.” Dorian walks forward, leaving Diem next to the car as he takes center stage. “I didn’t get where I am by making fast, irrational decisions. I think everything through. And I’m a very patient man.” He places his hands behind his back, walking in large circles and gliding through the thick tension in the room as if it’s nothing but clouds.
“Some people believe I’m immortal. But of course, that isn’t true. I won’t live forever, but my empire will. So I decided that the best way for what I have spent my whole life preserving to survive is to implement some change. My change begins with my daughter, Diem.” He offers Diem a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I’m surprised he even knows how. “From now on, you will answer to her. And you will do well to remember that she holds as much power as I do. I will only warn you once. Underestimating her will be a very deadly mistake.” No shit it would. Hell, I could have told them that.
On cue, Diem walks forward. I’m still reeling, unable to pry my eyes off the woman I love. The woman I held in my arms. The woman who made me laugh. The woman who I never thought I’d see again. All her softness is gone. Her vulnerability lost. She can’t show weakness here, and neither can I. Even if she is standing in those high heels looking more fuckable than I remember.
I inhale and try to focus. Forcing myself to look away from her, I notice the men in the room. Every eye is trained on her body. The lust and want is evident in all of them—even my brothers. I want to tell them all to keep their fucking eyes off what belongs to me. I want to tell them that she is my woman, and I’ll kill any motherfucker who tries to cross me. But there’s something in the back of my head that’s telling me I might be wrong—she might not be mine at all.
“Cyrus,” she says, and I nearly groan at the sound
of the ice in her voice. I want to throw her in the back of that limo and stick my fingers and tongue and cock in her until she speaks in that breathy tone I love.
“Yes ma’am,” he drawls, already underestimating her. I want to kill him more for showing her disrespect than for murdering my brother. The thought is unsettling, but I dismiss it—knowing if anybody can cut him down to size, my girl can. That is, if she’s still my girl.
She turns to walk back to the center of the floor, her lips pursed while she nods her head. I know that look. Something bad is fixing to happen. “I know that the transition for all of you will be difficult. But, I don’t care. I’m not sympathetic to your egos. If anyone has a problem with a woman being in charge, the door is open for you to leave.”
She gives us about three seconds to make up our minds, then continues. “That’s what I thought. Cyrus, you claim that Sinner’s Creed has been murdering your men. Do you have proof?”
I level Cyrus with a look, and can tell by his expression that he don’t have shit. “I don’t have any physical proof, no. But I do know that Shady has been MIA here lately and the days he wasn’t accounted for coincide with the dates my brothers went missing.”
“Shady?” she asks, and I remember that she only knows me as Zeke.
“Him.” Cyrus points to me, and when she turns, a flash of fear is in her eyes, but she quickly conceals it with a smile. Being a gentlemen and all, I smile back.
“Shady, huh?” Diem asks, her voice low but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Do you have any specific dates?” She keeps her eyes on me as Cyrus rattles off a bunch of dates. She quirks an eyebrow and I realize she’s doing the math in her head. Unable to verbally defend myself, I straighten and clench my jaw, trying to remind myself to keep my mouth shut.
“I can find people to vouch for that if you need me to,” Cyrus offers, digging my grave a little deeper.
