by Liz K. Lorde
Jasmine put her shoe in the door and her hand on the frame, pulling against the man and preventing it from being shut, “I know she’s in here,” Jasmine insisted, “I just need to speak with her for a moment, that’s all I’m asking.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” The man asked, easing his grip.
“Everybody lies,” Jasmine stepped up closer, getting in the man’s face – he stood a head and some inches taller than her, but she would not back down so easily. “You work with me, you’ll have an easier time – the girl’s parents are worried sick.”
“She can call anytime she wants,” the man insisted, not budging.
“And I’ll see to it that she does, now back up,” she raised her voice, loud enough that someone inside could possibly hear her.
Heartbeats of time passed, an electricity flowing through Jasmine’s veins as the man spoke no thing, finally relenting by stepping to the side, “You her sister or something?” She could see his eyes finding all of the places that he wanted to touch; that if given the chance, he would try and take.
Some men are animals? That gives these bangers too much credit. “Yeah, you got a problem with that?” She replied, stepping inside. The man closed the door behind her and led the way through the front into the living room.
Alejandra was there, only in her bra and jeans, along with three men on a couch, all olive-toned and rough-n-tough looking; Alejandra was sitting on the lap of the man who looked like he was in charge. That must be Carlos.
The man that Jasmine presumed to be Carlos had a full head of buzzed down black hair, and thick eyebrows that were pierced; his ears had impressively sized gauges and his olive-toned skin was graced with a set of lean muscles. It was his arms that stood out the most, however, all inked in black – the shadowy demons and Spanish sayings written among them, along with a set of four distinctive teardrops on the back of the man’s hand.
The other two men were similar in appearance of skin and muscle; but diverged in that one was more stocky, the other lean and thin as a post – the former’s hair was a tousled mess of black curls, the latter just short and parted to the side.
Jasmine could see the worry in Alejandra’s stormy young eyes at being caught. Oh yes, you’re in trouble, she thought.
Carlos was the first to speak, looking to the man who had led Jasmine inside. He had a delighted smirk on his face, “Whose the flor negra?” He asked.
“Hermana,” the man replied.
Alejandra’s face screwed up in confusion, but she said nothing.
His eyes flicking over to Jasmine, Carlos said, “What’s your name, sweetheart.”
“None of your concern,” she straightened her spine in defiance, a sudden jolt of adrenaline running through her now. “Mom and Dad are worried about you, Allie,” she said, extending a hand and making a come hither motion with her whole hand, “it’s time to go home.”
Carlos scoffed, “She’s being well taken care of, maybe you’d like to run away too.” Jasmine could see the look of shame on Alejandra’s face, her cheeks starting to blush. “Never had two sisters together before, plus I like the mouth on you,” he said cheekily, slinking an arm tightly around Alejandra.
She had to hold back her tongue as much as humanly possible, lest things go astray.
Alejandra spoke up now, “You shouldn’t be here,” she insisted, her eyes wracked with sadness.
Jasmine tried to reason with them “She needs to be brought home, not for good but her papa and mama need to see her.”
The man from the door chimed in, “You said just a phone call,” an undercurrent of anger in his voice. She could feel the pinpricks starting to form on the soles of her feet at that.
“I lied,” Jasmine admitted, turning her head to glance at the guy, “you’ll have to forgive me,” she turned back to Carlos, “please let my sister come home to her family; or do you like having mother’s sick with grief and worry? Is that how you were raised?” Her words were barbed now, striking at what she thought might be the man’s points of weakness.
The muscles in Carlos’ jaw jumped, the corner of his mouth lifting, hinting at his own amusement. “Mi flor,” he said, his deep brown eyes locking on Jasmine’s, “las madres están pensados para afligirse.”
Jasmine roughly understood what he said, but acted as though she did not – better to let a man think you cannot comprehend them, so that you can exploit their confidence. When the men picked up on this, Carlos snickered to himself, “What will you give me in return?”
“Silence. I won’t put my ear to the ground and I won’t tell anyone that you’re with an unconsenting minor.”
The two goons at Carlos’ side perked up at that, shooting up from their place on the couch and getting ready to approach Jasmine.
Carlos put up a hand and said something, then grabbed Alejandra by her jaw – the girl visibly uncomfortable as he turned her to face him. It sent sickly hot waves through Jasmine’s core to watch the man put his hands on her, “I’ll let my little flower go,” he said, looking into Alejandra’s eyes, “but she’s never been unwilling,” a smile walked across his face, and then he let the girl free.
Alejandra leapt from the man’s lap and went to Jasmine’s side, “Asshole,” she muttered beneath her breath, so low that the others could not hear.
Carlos waved his hand and his eyes became something predatory, “Run along now,” he said, “ before I change my mind. Next time I won’t play so nice,” Carlos warned, the words leaving with the chill of the grave on his lips. The man’s three goons eyeballed Jasmine and Alejandra; a nervous fear wracking her bones as they did so.
Jasmine put an arm protectively around Alejandra, “Come on,” she whispered, hurrying the girl to the front door – the men ‘escorting’ them out.
The man who greeted Jasmine let out a last comment before she could get into her car, “Don’t come around here puta perra.”
Slamming the car door and bringing her key quickly to the ignition, Jasmine fumbled a bit with a shaky hand. “Put your seatbelt on,” she instructed, her voice pointed – she knew it wasn’t a tone that she should be taking.
Alejandra did as she was told, sniffling a little, “You should have just left me here, Carlos doesn’t like people interfering with his business.”
Jasmine started the car and threw it into reverse, backing out quickly, nearly hitting some stranger in the process. She cursed beneath her breath and drove away, wanting to get as far away from the place as possible. “I could never do that,” Jasmine snipped, “why were you even with him to begin with?”
The girl said nothing, dipping her head and making a half-hearted little shrug, “I was with my boys and we were drinking crown; he seemed nice,” she revealed, her voice low and tinged with shame, “he convinced me to stay the night and he…” Alejandra’s words drifted in the air as Jasmine cruised down the street, merging into traffic and making her way back into town. “He was rough with me, and I— I liked it, I liked it at first. But,” her breath hitched in her throat and Jasmine’s skin began to crawl.
Alejandra wiped at her eyes, “he left bruises and marks, and he wouldn’t stop. Every time I tried to leave, Carlos would keep telling me ‘not yet, not yet,’ and there was always someone around, keeping an eye on me. Mi dios que aún Puedo sentirlo en mí,” Alejandra tried to make herself as small as possible.
What was once fear making Jasmine shake, turned quickly into hate – she pictured the man’s smug smile and how he abused Alejandra.
Nobody hurts my girl, Jasmine raged, gripping the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles turned white. “I’m sorry,” she offered sincerely to Alejandra, “I’m really, really sorry you had to endure that – that bastard’s going to pay, Allie. I swear it.”
She looked to Jasmine then, her face screwed up in a mix of worry and surprise, “No, no please,” the girl was seemingly genuinely afraid for Jasmine, “I would feel so guilty, dead inside if he did something to you.”
Jasmin
e flicked her gaze between the road and the girl, weighing her words carefully. This is my call, “And I already feel dead inside,” she blurted, “because that cocky gangbanger hurt you. No, Alejandra, when we get you home we’re going to talk with Mimi – and you are going to show me and tell me everything that he did. For what he did? I’ll make him suffer.”
The world is a hurtful and hateful place to little girls, Carlos – but there’s little more vile than a rapist; and fewer ways to warrant a good woman’s wrath.
Chapter Eight
Augustus
Augustus Lark slipped out carefully from the whore’s embrace; the paid-for commodity a mess of hair and reeking of booze and sweat. He then left the quiet darkness of his bedroom in nothing but his dark boxers. There was something scratchy in his throat; he walked over to the fridge and opened the door lazily – looking into the light of the fridge absently, a hollow feeling cloaking him. His grey-green eyes settled on a plastic jug of cold water; he brought it to his lips and drank deep the icy fluid.
Letting out a satisfied grunt, he put the jug back inside the fridge, closed the door and padded through his home; heading to the glass doors that led to the back yard.
Sliding open the glass door slowly, quietly, he heard the continuous ringing of crickets making a symphony all their own.
Augustus shut the doors and sucked in a breath of fresh air.
Nothing smells the same, he thought. Augustus stepped forward, his eyes looking over his pool – nothing more than a bed of darkness in the night, shifting gently to its own devices.
Not with you gone. Not without the sweet release of heroine, I want it so bad I feel like my bones just want to jump from my skin – why can’t I let you two go?
He thought of Jasmine then, and the sickly taste of betrayal was on his tongue again. Augustus moved over to a white patio chair, sitting down and grabbing a matchbook and striking a stick, igniting the phosphorus, he watched it slowly burn. When the flame languidly sauntered down to the end of the wooden strip, Augustus tossed it to the side and pulled out another. He ruminated on the tryst he had with that beautiful girl, the one who made his heart soar.
The one who made his heart fall all over again.
Another match, another dance of the flame. He could feel the pain in his old bones, the loss of a wife – the loss of a love that should have never been, and the struggles of addiction. Do I really hold the power, to juggle all these things? Augustus threw the match aside, the acrid smoke kissing his nostrils, making them flare. The place felt haunted without the warmth of his wife; every place felt haunted whenever he was around.
There was no going back, no winding down the clock or turning ‘round the pendulum – all that once was could never be and all that was, was not good enough.
Fire bit at the tips of his finger and he sucked in a quick breath of nightly air.
Augustus’ stare became distant, focusing on the pool – the comforting pool. Sleep, sleep sounds good. His heart tapped against his breastbone just a bit faster, he could not pull his restless eyes from the waters; the bed that would hold his demons, a place where even Morpheus could rest.
He knew better. But still the urge remained, to step up and forward, to slip inside that mute coffin where all could become quiet.
Seconds passed, and Augustus’ lips trembled ever so slightly, his fingers plucking another match and striking it against the matchbook.
Chapter Nine
Sexton
God damn these walls are tight, Sexton thought as he bucked against the nameless piece of ass in the VIP lounge. His hand moved up to catch her full, naked breast and clutched onto it hard – practically growling as he stirred up the moaning girl’s insides with his thick cock. This was when he felt as his most alive, when everything just felt right.
The girl shuddered, her back arching and a cry escaped her lips. That’s right baby girl, come all over this dick, “Yeah, you like that fuckin’ cock don’t you?”
“Ff— y-yes, god yeah just don’t—“
Sexton gave a hard grunt and an even harder thrust, caressing the woman’s breast as he made her his personal plaything, “Asked you a question, you had enough of this dick?” He susurrated.
“N-no! Please, I-I won’t even charge you,” she pleaded.
Sexton gave a dark chuckle, pulling his soaked sword from the girl’s b-e-autiful fucking pussy, and turned her around so that she was on her knees and looking up at him. “Bosses would fire your gorgeous ass if you did that, babe. Sides, I know I’m not that good, doll.”
The girl’s cheeks blushed red and her eyes drifted, before falling back on Sexton’s gloriously hard shaft, it glistened in the hazy, soft blue light of the lounge.
“Go on,” Sexton instructed, his smirk widening, “if you’ve got even half the skills that you have down there…” he grabbed a fistful of the submissive girl’s hair, forcing her down on the first couple inches of his shaft.
Fuck her lips are amazing, I just want to tell everyone to fuck off, make like a tree and fuckin’ plant myself right here. Sexton let out a moan as the girl sucked him off, the sound of her mouth sucking and gurgling and licking all over his dick filled his ears – making his balls tight with need and his core hot with lust; he was dangerously close.
“Fuck yeah,” he said, “take it baby,” his breathing became hard and fast now, the girl increasing the pace in which she sucked, bobbing desperately now – seemingly needing to feel his cum inside of her mouth. He spurted hard his warm seed deep into the woman’s mouth – his cock twitching every couple of seconds and giving her strings of his cock juice.
The girl swallowed hard and kept her sultry gaze on Sexton, revealing her tongue briefly and wiping her mouth.
Sexton picked the girl up by her hind end, eliciting an adorable squeak, spun her around for a spell and then pressed her against the wall; bringing his lips dangerously close to her own, “You’re gonna do wonders here, babe.” He pulled away after a moment and set the girl on her feet, Sexton didn’t do making out, or kissing, or any kind of affection, really.
“Sexton!” A voice called out from the rear.
Damn Luke, always ruining my fun. Sexton flashed a smile, “Guess that’s my cue to get outta here, think about me when you’re grinding poles out there.” He called out to Luke then, cleaned himself up and hastily put on his clothes; his muscular, tattooed body became obscured by his bomber jacket and denim.
When Sexton left the VIP booth, he had his black aviator sunglasses on, his jacket open and his v-neck revealing a glimpse of his hard chest. When he saw Luke, a smile walked along the lines of his face, “This better be good my man, someone’s gotta teach these newbies the ropes around here.”
Luke rolled his eyes, “You teach them more than they’d ever need to know. That all you’re here for tonight?”
The music thumped loudly in the background as Sexton moved over to Luke’s side, the both of them casually surveying the scene of sex, leering, boozing and smoking. “Well, it’s most of the reason – why life’s worth living, isn’t it?”
“What’s this other reason?”
Sexton motioned his head at an angle from where the two were looking, pointing out two men, one inked up and in a wife beater, the other wearing a black leather jacket with the symbol of three raven heads, stitched in white, looking in three different directions.
Luke spied the two men from Sexton’s hinting, “Never seen them around Sequim,” Luke was genuinely at a loss, it seemed. No man can know everything, and knowing things is power.
“They’re new, call themselves Darkbringers – apparently they originated in Seattle sometime earlier this year; very under the radar,” Sexton informed, his eyes watching the rhythm of one of the pole girls making her nightly earning – thankfully Izzie’s aviators won’t let Luke see me so thoroughly distracted. But hell, when you see somethin’ beautiful, you gotta take the time to appreciate.
“So what are they doing here?” Luke turned to loo
k at Sexton, “trying to find some smaller place to grow their power?”
“You got it,” Sexton nodded his head emphatically, continuing to watch the woman’s ebony ass as she arched her back, “…or at least that’s what I thought too.”
“Christ I can see your dick from here, would you just, stop for a second? You’re like a dog with a bone.”
Sexton smiled wide, “What’s wrong with knowin’ what you love?”
Luke shook his head.
“I know you didn’t come here just to check up on me,” Sexton shifted against the railing in which he was leaning on. “Unless you were lookin’ to party, in which case – heh, you know me…”
“No, no,” Luke replied, “you’re right. I’m here because of Gabriel.”
The two became quiet, and Sexton turned his head, and attention, away from the girls and displays of debauchery, looking to Luke; he brought down his shades. “I heard about that,” he said stiffly.
“Allen tell you who did it?”
“Said that you told him it was Earl, but that’s all we know – he’s been checking with our people for confirmation—“
“I know it was him,” Luke said in a harsh whisper, a rage dancing in his differently colored eyes. “I know, because I was there – and I killed his people. It’s blowback.”
This was always his downfall, Sexton thought, but even if it was a nasty side of him – it was also appealing, appealing to some darker, more primal part of me. When he got like this, the last thing you wanted to do was tell him no.
Of course, Allen always could. “Way you’re talking,” Sexton started, “sounds like you want to get the ball rolling early.”
“I do. And I have a feeling that you don’t want to sit idly by while I get the party started.”
“You doing this with the President’s consent?”
Luke shuffled closer, looking over at the two Darkbringers, oblivious to Luke and Sexton’s spying – he whispered low, “fuck the old man, I don’t want the consent of a coward, whose only interest is in himself.”
