Lucky: The Irish MC

by West, Heather

  I shook my head. “Fine,” I said. The kid pointed towards a set of curtains at the back of the hallway. They were done in lush black velvet and I swallowed nervously as I pushed my way through. It looked like something out of a B-movie about a bordello.

  “You’re fine, honey,” said the woman in a deep, amused voice. “But I have to ask you a little favor first.”

  “What is it?” I stepped through the curtains and immediately, two sets of strong hands clamped down on my biceps. I yanked back, but they were stronger. Before I knew it, I was being dragged to the middle of a dark room. The walls were painted a deep red and all of the lampshades had red and black scarves thrown over them. Sitting in a chair towards the back of the room was one of the most stunning women I’d ever seen. Her skin was the color of coffee with too much cream, and her hair cascaded down her back in long, raven-black curls. She wore a pair of black sunglasses and was dressed entirely in black leather.

  “Honey, we’re going to take a little look at you,” she said, simpering and giggling. “I want to know that you’re safe.”

  I frowned. “Of course I’m fucking safe,” I spat. “I need to speak with you. About The Manticore!”

  “Later, baby,” she said with a wave of her hand. Turning to the guards that held me in place, she said, “Strip him.”

  I protested but the men were too strong. In a second, they’d stripped me of my shirt and they were tugging my jeans down around my ankles. The woman stood up—in heels, she was almost as tall as I was—and she walked over to me slowly, inspecting me from every angle.

  “I don’t see any wires,” she said delicately, flicking her fingers on my chest. I glared at her.

  “I’m not fuckin’ wired,” I said. “Didn’t you fuckin’ hear me? I need to talk to you about Peyton.”

  Her dark red lips curved into a shiny smile. “Of course you do,” she said sweetly. “And you’re here, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered.

  “So start talking!” Her last words were delivered sternly and they landed like a blow. When I attempted to pull my hands back up, her guards grabbed me by the arms and held me firmly upright. “You’re not allowed to get dressed,” she said in the same sweet voice as before. “Not for as long as you’re with me.”

  The woman kept her eyes trained on me as she stalked backwards and settled herself comfortably down in the ebony chair. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

  I rolled my eyes and reached down for my pockets. “I need to pull something out of my pants, is that okay?”

  She shot a look at the guards and they grabbed my arms once again. Between this and being pushed down the stairs, I was pretty fucking sick of being manhandled by this cunt and her cronies. The woman clicked her tongue and a third man came out of the shadows. She jerked her head at my fallen jeans and he mechanically stooped down and began to go through the pockets. I kicked him in the face, hard.

  “Hey!” she cried out. “Leave him alone, or I’ll do the same thing to you!” I stared as she got up from the chair and strolled over to me. When she was right in front of my face, she stretched and lifted her leg straight up in her air, showing me her spike-heeled booties. “You want this up your ass, tough guy?”

  “No,” I said, looking away. “Fuck, woman, just hurry up already.”

  She stepped even closer to me and glared. “I don’t have to listen to you,” she said sweetly. “And I’ll take as much time as I damn well please, honey,” she added in a syrupy voice. “And don’t you forget it!”

  I looked away. The man squatting on the ground emerged with a fistful of items from my pockets and pants: the gun I’d stolen from downstairs, my wallet, my phone, my knife, some change, and a shredded lottery ticket.

  “Men are such slobs,” the woman observed. “There’s nothing like a man to carry everything unnecessary around with him.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about?” I said in a gruff voice. “I think every fuckin’ thing I have is pretty goddamn necessary right now.”

  She turned around so her ass was almost pressed against my crotch. I looked to the ceiling and tried not to think about the heat radiating off her skin. She giggled and I realized I was holding my breath. As I exhaled, I slowly felt my cock twitch between my legs. Damnit! I thought. Think about anything. Football, baseball, soccer! The only trick didn’t work, and slowly my disobedient cock was becoming half-erect. The woman snickered and slowly bent over at the waist, leaning against me so her perfect heart-shaped ass was pressing against my erection. She wiggled and her ass shook. I shivered and tried to pull back, but the men holding my arms held me firm.

  “Damn you,” I hissed. “Get the fuck away from me, you crazy cunt!”

  She stood back up and turned around, slapping me more forcefully than I’d ever been hit. I was seeing stars for seconds afterwards, and my face stung.

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” she said sweetly. “And your words might say one thing, but I know how eager you must be to tap me, honey,” she paused and ran one of her hands down my bare chest. As I imagined, her nails were crested with long acrylic tips. “You may say one thing, but bodies don’t lie.” Her fingers trailed down my bare skin and over the briefs covering my cock. I winced and held my breath, anticipating the worst. The woman grinned at me as she cupped my balls. I bit my lip and looked away. In an instant, she could inflict more pain than anyone else in this room. She gently began to rub her thumb over my balls as she grinned up at me.

  I gasped. “What do you want?” It came out much higher than my normal voice and she snickered, finally taking her hand away. When it was gone, I greedily sucked in air.

  “Honey, I just like havin’ some fun, that’s all,” she said with a sly grin. “I get so lonely being up here by myself all day!”

  “Except you’re not up here alone. You’re out there, fucking with those junkies in Detroit.”

  She grinned. “Honey, junkies ain’t people, you know that. You used to deal, didn’t you?” She stepped closer and drew an acrylic nail under my chin. “You even went to prison,” she added softly. “Don’t be stupid, baby. I know exactly who you are.”

  My stomach plummeted and I grit my teeth. “Then why are you fucking with me?” I hissed. “This is important.”

  She looked me dead in the eyes and I felt a glimmer of fear. She was easily the most intimidating person I’d ever been around, man or woman. “Because that’s what you did with me, honey,” she said finally. “Don’t you remember? We had a delicious little tête-à-tête a few years back.”

  I struggled to remember ever being around someone so intimidating, but I couldn’t recall her for the life of me. Her eyes were so light brown that they looked golden in the half-light, and I couldn’t ever remember being with someone who had come across as so…powerful. This woman intimidated me just from the way she talked; it gave me a chill of fear to remember that I was plotting to kill her, too.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t remember,” she said coyly. “If I recall, it happened on a very, very important night. Perhaps the night that…Rose, was that her name? Perhaps the night that Rose was killed.”

  “Fuckin’ shut your mouth,” I whispered hoarsely. The mention of Rose’s name made me feel gut shot, and I shook my head. No. No, she couldn’t be right. She couldn’t possibly be right. The night that Rose was killed, I’d gone to a strip club. I remember that I’d sat there and watched the dancers twirl above me in a blaze of sequins and bare flesh. Some little girl, a petite little brunette, had come over and sat on my lap. I’d bought a dance from her, and then…

  My eyes flew open. “No,” I said loudly. “No, that couldn’t have been you!”

  The woman cackled and threw back her head. “I didn’t think you’d have forgotten my name,” she said in a teasing voice. “But it appears that you have. Not a big surprise, honey, heroin is hell on your brain. I was just a little girl then. You probably remember my big brother, Darius? He was the head of the gang�
�until Peyton killed him.”

  I stared at her. “Peyton killed your brother? The Manticore? He killed Darius?”

  “You sure are a slow learner, honey,” the woman said. She grabbed my chin and tilted it squarely towards her. Leaning closer, I could see her golden eyes gleaming. “I wasn’t very happy working as a stripper, honey, that little rub I gave you was just so that I could make a buck. You sure don’t think I would have done that on my own, right? I don’t like white boys,” she finished, grinning. “Especially not shrimpy little sad fucks like you and your like.”

  I growled. “What the fuck,” I hissed. “Cut this shit out.”

  She shook her head, sending her magnificent black curls flying. “You don’t get to talk to me that way,” she teased. “I should find out a way to make you treat me with more respect.” Leaning down, she pressed her arms against her tits so her cleavage looked like a vast canyon. “Do you like that, honey?” she whispered. When I didn’t reply, she leaned further down and picked up my knife from where it lay by my feet. I bit my lip. She eyed the knife carefully and slid it out of the sheath. “Is this sharp, honey? Could I do some damage with this?”

  I watched in horror as she slid the knife out of its sheath and traced it along my bare chest. Red swirls began to bloom wherever the knife touched, and I shuddered, thinking of how easily she could stab me in the gut. She traced it lower and lower until the point was tangling in my pubic hair.

  “I think this might be a good place to start,” she said tartly. “Hold him!”

  “Wait!” I screamed. “I remember you! I remember you!”

  She paused, flashing her golden eyes at my face. “Then what’s my name, baby?”

  “Nefertiti,” I whispered. “Your name is Nefertiti.”

  She grinned at me, exposing even white teeth. With a clang, she dropped the knife on the floor and turned around, waltzing back to her ebony throne. “Let him go,” she said to the guards. “He’s not a threat to any of us.”

  My heart clanged in my chest as I watched her. Nefertiti trained her eyes on me and tossed her head. “Now, what was it that you wanted?”

  I squatted down and grabbed my phone from the pile on the floor. “This,” I said hoarsely. “There’s a recording. There’s something you need to hear. Peyton’s trying to betray you,” I said finally. “I didn’t know it was you he was talking about. But he’s after me now, and I wanted you to know he’s a traitor.”

  Nefertiti’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, honey,” she said. “So he’s out to kill you and that’s why you wanted to let me know? Don’t you have any tact, honey?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Drop the bullshit,” I told her. She simpered and looked in the other direction. “If you value your life, listen to this.”

  “I’m all ears,” she said drily, leaning forward. With my hands in the air as a gesture of innocence, I walked towards her and pressed play on the recording.

  “I’m going to play it now,” I warned. She nodded once more and I stepped closer, holding the phone up to her ear.

  “Sure. Let’s talk.”

  “Not out here, fool. Come back inside with us and then we’ll have a little heart to heart. They’re just doin’ their job. More than you can say for yourself right now, Chasey.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m gonna be scoring a huge supply of dope pretty soon. To overtake the boss of the gang, Net.”

  “Why the fuck are you telling me? I can’t help you. Not when I’m gonna be too busy killing you.”

  “You’re funny, man. You think I need your help? I’m only telling you because dead men don’t talk! So you’re gonna have this little secret all to yourself. We’re gonna let you go for a little bit so you can think about all the ways we’re gonna kill you later. You think you can handle that, Chasey?”

  “Fuck you. Not if I kill you first, asshole.”

  Nefertiti gazed at me with wide eyes. She bit her lip and it took me a moment to realize that she and Peyton were lovers. They must have been lovers. Why else would she betray her brother the way that she had? Why would she support all the killing? It must have been because of some lie he told her. Despite the fact that I knew she was responsible for the murders of dozens, part of me felt a little bad for her.

  “I’m sorry,” I offered. “I didn’t know that you and he…had…you know.”

  “It’s not about that,” she said archly. “It’s about the fact that he thinks he can outsmart me. Calling me ‘Net’? Like I’m some kind of man thug?” She laughed, a booming, powerful sound. “Don’t you think I’m scarier than any man you ever met, honey?”

  “I do,” I said honestly. “Trust me.”

  She leaned back in her seat and gave me a Cheshire grin. “Good,” she said. “I’m glad you understand. But Peyton…tsk, tsk. What’re we going to do with him now?”

  “I can kill him,” I said gruffly. “I want to kill him. He killed my sister. I have to take care of him.”

  She gazed at me. “You can help,” she said finally. “He’s been fuckin’ me for years with no idea, honey. I have to at least take some part in this little mad fun.”

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  As I rode to the warehouse where Peyton and his thugs hid out, my heart was in my throat. I was riding in the back of Nefertiti’s black Mercedes, hidden safely behind tinted windows. The leather inside was like the skin of the softest woman I’d ever touched, and the car smelled better than pussy.

  “Honey, what are you thinking that we’ll do?” Nefertiti reclined in her seat and took a drink of her champagne. In the past few hours, she’d warmed to me remarkably. Well, not really. But I no longer had the sense that she was trying to kill me. So there was that.

  “I’m dropping off the heroin,” I said gruffly. “Just give me the package and I’ll carry it in. I’ll carry a gun under the packages. When they take the boxes from me, pop, pop. He’s dead.”

  She looked at me and cocked her head to the side. “Don’t you think that’s a little bit of an easy way out, honey? Just pop, pop and he’s dead? What about all the people he made suffer? Don’t you care about them?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t fuckin’ worry about anyone else,” I told her. “This is about me. This is about me getting my revenge. Just because we’re working together on this doesn’t mean I care about you.”

  Nefertiti pursed her lips. “You smarter than I give you credit for, honey,” she drawled. “I thought you was gonna be all about saving me after our fun together!”

  I gritted my teeth and rolled my eyes. “Don’t count on it,” I told her icily. “I just want what’s mine.”

  Nefertiti kicked her shoe off and stuck her stockinged toes in my lap. When I tried to push her foot away, she clicked her tongue and the guards shot me a look. Sighing, I let her continue rubbing at my cock with her toes until she was grinning and I was hard. Putting up with her little sexual harassment was bad, but could have been worse. At least I wasn’t worried she was going to cut my cock off.

  “This is so fun,” she gushed. “Ain’t we having fun?”

  “Oh, yes, Ms. Nefertiti,” one of the thugs said. He patted her on the shoulder and she swatted his hand away with a sharp slap. “This is real fun we’re havin’.”

  I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. As we pulled up to the warehouse, I felt a sinking feeling in my chest. What if this was all wrong? What if Nefertiti wanted me dead just as much as Peyton? A horrible image slipped into my mind of them taking turns torturing me until I was almost dead, then crawling over my broken body and fucking like dogs.

  “You nervous, baby?”

  “Not at all,” I said smoothly. “And you’re going to be watching and waiting?”

  She nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun to yourself, could I?”

  I laughed once, a harsh sound. “Of course not,” I said, mimicking her tone. She grinned at me; if she knew I was mocking her, she didn’t show it.

  When
Nefertiti nodded, I climbed out of the car and walked quickly to the building. Putting my hands in my waistband, I pulled out the semi-automatic and cocked it, sneaking along the threshold of the building. There was silence. In one hand I held the bag with the heroin. Looking at the other, the hand with my gun, I could see how badly I was shaking. Pull yourself together, McIntyre. This is fucking it. This is it, big man.

  The only thought on my mind was seeing Peyton’s face as I shot him in the chest, time after time. I wanted him to know that he was dying. I wanted him to know why. I wanted all of his thugs to know why. No matter what happened, I wouldn’t rest until he was dead.

  There was some whispering and hushing as I got to the back door. I stuck the gun in the back of my pants and put the heroin package down on the ground. After knocking three times in quick succession, there was a scurry of footfall and the door opened. “Hello,” one of the thugs said in stilted English. “Come with me now.”