Quiet Chaos : The Chaos Series- Book #2

by Keta Kendric

  I lifted my phone. “I need a few minutes to take care of an urgent problem that came up. It won’t take long. I promise.”

  Her smile was all I needed to see before I stood and stepped away from our table, heading for the front door with my phone glued to my ear.

  George was forty-six years old, and the average sixty-year-old could outshine his appearance. He was outside the men’s restroom, chatting with one of his buddies. Of course, they were talking about me and Mecca and how the world as they knew it would go to hell because of people like us.

  Once they had their fill of bad-mouthing us, the buddy went back to the dining room and George dipped into the restroom. Good. No one needed to hear the conversation that he and I were about to have.

  I left the restaurant in the opposite direction with my phone to my ear, so that no one would suspect my true intentions were to get a few moments alone with George.

  I crept into the bathroom, locking the door behind me before I tiptoed across the floor and peeked into the three empty stalls to make sure we were alone.

  When George walked out of the final stall a moment later, I was standing against the exit with my foot propped up against the door. My suit jacket was open and I had even taken my cufflinks off.

  George stopped in his tracks at the sight of me. He let go of the stall door too soon, which caused it to slam and him to jump as he stood gawking at me.

  “What was that name you called my wife?”

  “I don’t want any trouble. Besides, this is a free world, and I have the freedom to speak.”

  A heavy dose of anticipation had me rubbing my hands together before I pushed off the door.

  “George, you are old enough that you should know when it’s the right time to keep your fucking mouth shut.”

  A few more of my predatory steps had his chest rising and falling faster as his gaze shot to the exit at my back. I aimed my thumb across my shoulder while taking more steps.

  “It’s locked.”

  “What are you doing? You can’t hurt me. I’m a committee member.”

  I loved the way they tossed around the words, committee member, like it wielded a great power I was unaware of. More deliberate steps put me closer as I recalled his insult, and the hurt look it had put on Mecca’s face.

  When I took another stalking step closer. George shouted, “Help! Stay back!”

  “Don’t worry, no one can hear you. I’ve conducted a little business in this restroom on two, no, make that three other occasions with no interruptions.”

  I placed a finger over my lips, insinuating that he should be quiet anyway. He kept moving back until his back hit the far wall near the paper towel dispenser. I continued to advance until I was a few feet in front of him.

  “Help! Help! Somebody help me!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, as my gaze fell on his bulging eyes. His voice echoed off the walls as his chest moved up and down with sharp jerks.

  He shuffled back into the wall, attempting to push himself through it as his gaze kept bouncing between the exit and me. His fingers were webbed against the wall as the pulse in his neck thumped hard to keep up with his accelerated heart rate.

  When I took a quick, stalking step forward, he attempted to kick me, but I knocked his leg away with a hard kick from mine that nearly knocked him off his feet. By the time he recovered, I had the forearm of my free hand pinned under his neck.

  Saliva seeped from his lips as he huffed and puffed and squirmed and wiggled. With me standing on the tips of his feet, stretching out his body with the determined force I applied to the arm I had pinned under his neck, his attempts at kicking me were cut short.

  “What are you doing? You can’t do this. You can’t kill me.” His words were squeezed out between stained grunts before he started screaming like a lame bitch.

  “Help! Help! Somebody help me!”

  The moment I spoke, his screaming ceased.

  “I’m not going to kill you, George. Fortunately, for you, you have a few things you need to learn before you die.”

  A touch of relief eased into him at my words about not killing him.

  “You’re married, George. How would you feel if I called your wife one of the most hurtful words I could think of in a room filled with people?”

  “I didn’t mean it to be hurtful. It’s something we say all the time.”

  A devious smirk stretched across my lips.

  “I’m sure you and your people do say it all the time, but you’re going to be one of them that’s never going to say it again.”

  I stepped off his feet before sending a hard flying fist into his mouth to disorient him before I spun him so that I could take his back.

  Once I had him facing the wall, I kicked his legs out from under him, sending him to his knees with a hard thud. Taking him around the neck, I adjusted my forearm so that it pressed into the vein to cut off air to his brain. He needed to be asleep for the lesson I planned to set in motion for him.

  The deep grip I had around his neck tightened until I was sure I was pressing the right spot. He continued to struggle, his legs shooting out in front of him and scraping against the floor before his body finally fell limp in my arms.

  It took me seven minutes to complete my task and return to my wife, who sat sipping her wine while prying eyes scanned her from every direction.

  “You didn’t kill anyone without me, I see. You’re a woman after my heart,” I said playfully, making her smile.

  “She must have him pussy-whipped,” a male voice sounded, but I hadn’t seen who it had come from.

  I turned in the general direction of the voice and prepared to comment, but Mecca beat me to it. She pointed out someone that attempted to ease down in his seat.

  “First, own what the fuck you say, coward. Second, stay the fuck out of our bed. Third, if you must know, we have each other whipped. If my husband wanted to fuck me right here and now, I would lay across this table and let him do with me as he pleases. If I wanted to fuck him, I would sit him in your lap. That way, you could shut the fuck up and suffer under the weight of our sex, while I rode him until I couldn’t see straight or until my pussy stopped working, whatever happens first.”

  The sip of wine I had taken, along with a few other people’s, went flying out into the air. Several coughing fits were taking place at the same time, as bulging eyes glared at her like she was a she-devil. I honestly didn’t know what to say or do.

  Mecca was not going to be boxed in or contained, not by me or anyone else. I had learned the hard way not to push her too far, and to protect her at a distance while she handled her own business on her terms.

  Although consumed by shock, I did enjoy her words about us being whipped on each other, and her allowing me to have my way with her. She took her time letting her gaze travel over the room.

  “Now, that we’re done with the pleasantries, let’s talk business. If I believed I couldn’t effectively do my job as head of the Black Saints, I’d respectfully step down. But, you all have to at least be willing to allow me the opportunity to show you what I’m capable of accomplishing.”

  Smiles covered some of the faces in the room. Not many, but the few I saw were a good sign. Although Stan’s face was drawn tight in irritation, he sat and listened, guzzling from his glass of wine.

  After the group settled down, we took our seats and began our meals until loud screams sucked up every drop of attention in the room, causing people to stand from their chairs and gawk in every direction.

  “Call 9-1-1!” Helen, George’s current wife, yelled as she came running from the back of the restaurant. Her fingers were covered with blood.

  “His tongue’s been cut out. Oh God! Someone has cut George’s tongue out.”

  Several sets of eyes landed on me, but they didn’t say shit. I sat back down in the midst of all the ruckus, as others went running in the direction of the bleeding man. He must have crawled his way out of the bathroom.

  Mecca leaned into me, plantin
g her smaller shoulder against mine while I leaned in to receive her words. “Thank you for having my back, husband. It means a lot. But, his tongue, though? What did you do with it?”

  “I flushed it down the toilet. He wanted to spew shit out of his mouth, so I shipped it off to where it belonged. In the sewage.”

  Although she flashed a deep smile, I didn’t miss the hint of pride in her eyes. I enjoyed seeing that smile on her face. I leaned in so that my lips rested at her ear, whispering words that drew her closer.

  “He better be glad it wasn’t his life. Besides, I promised you that I would take care of it, and I want you to know that I’ll keep my promises.”

  A deep smile filled her face and shined in her eyes. “I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Her lips met mine for a lingering kiss.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet. I’m not done. He’s going to die. I wanted him to know how it feels to live without his tongue. They don’t call me Loud for nothing. His death will be painful and untimely.”

  A wicked spark coursed through me at the sight of the sly grin skating across her beautiful face.

  “The Lord of Untimely Death is married to Quiet Chaos? I think we are practically soul mates based on our call signs alone,” she said with a devious little giggle. She joked, but I think that there was truth in her words.

  Loud and Quiet. I smiled at the thought that our nicknames ranged on opposite ends of the noise spectrum, but stood for nearly the same thing as it pertained to the way we lived our lives.

  “So, husband,” she called, disrupting my inner musings.

  “What would Loud do to me if I got out of line? Would I be due a harsh punishment?”

  I chuckled. “All I ever want to owe you is some dick.”

  Her giggle in the midst of the swirling chaos drew some attention, but it pleased me to hear that spark of joy in her tone.

  “In that case, I intend to act up, and act out as often as possible,” she stated.

  I sensed that she would act up either way. She was either my greatest accomplishment or my greatest weakness.

  Had my stunt with George earned me fear or respect, or had I created more enemies within the group?

  20

  Arjen

  Work had kept us busy and apart for the past five days, but it didn’t stop me from missing Mecca. She would drag herself into the house, shower, and pass out after sharing a few words of how her day had gone.

  I offered to do more, wanted to do more to help her, but understood her need to accomplish the goals of her organization in her own way and time. I didn’t want anyone dipping into the way I ran things and as much as I wanted to help her, I backed off because I understood.

  Her presence alone had the power to make me come alive. Before Mecca, I was sleepwalking, navigating my living nightmare until she entered the picture and gave my life a spark, like the big bang, that many believed started everything, it was starting to feel like she had jump-started me.

  I had foolheartedly convinced myself that Desiree was the woman for me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Mecca was a much better fit, the perfect fit.

  My phone sounded, alerting a text.

  “See you early tonight, husband.”

  Her simple text caused a smile to light up my face and lift the heavy weight of my pressing mood as I always found myself stressing about her safety.

  This was the first time she had sent me a text about coming home early. I was beginning to see us as a couple, and the idea didn’t scare me as much as I assumed it would. Not having her around was becoming my new nightmare.

  There was nothing better than drawing her into my arms and sleeping with her tucked tight against me. I had hauled her into me last night and hadn’t released her, not even while I slept. She was up and gone by the time my eyes opened at six-thirty. Up early, and in late, she was averaging three hours of sleep a night.

  I would have loved to be engaged in more of the explosive sex we made together, but I held back, allowing her the little rest she was allowing herself to get. Now, I understood her earlier attitude when she would come in, shower, and pass out. She wasn’t avoiding me like I had thought. She had just been tired.

  The only night she had slept more than six hours was the night of our wedding after we had left the hospital. The best night we shared in our bedroom was the night we discovered that our chemistry was rare and so off the charts, we couldn’t get enough of each other.

  She called it ‘the best fucking’ she’d ever had, but I was certain that I had taken my time, at the beginning of round one, and made love to her. However, our second, third, and fourth times were straight fucking as we had gone at it like animals. Her body was capable of inciting joy, and her pussy must have been laced with fairy dust, because I had never felt a greater pleasure in my life.

  Every facet of her was a glorious undertaking, like learning the intricacies of what made up a butterfly. Mecca’s beauty was undeniable but being blessed with more insight into the depth of her, made me appreciate her more and see her as more than just a pretty thing.

  A few hours before she was set to come home, I decided to put a little surprise together for her. My phone pinged, alerting that she was entering the gate. I glanced at the image of her on my phone driving up to the house and around to the garage. My shower had been a quick one before I entered our bedroom to throw some clothes on.

  A pair of loose-fitting jeans and a nice polo shirt were appropriate for dinner. Thankfully, she had no complaints about the way I dressed, as she had seen me casual and smart and had complimented my appearance both times.

  The double chirp of the alarm indicated her entering the house through the garage. I ran down the stairs, as jubilant as a child expecting Santa for the first time. She hadn’t been home before six o’clock but a few other times. Therefore, I saw this time as a gift.

  The first sight of her stopped me. A baby-blue fitted dress, sleek, classy, and hitting all the right spots. Low cut, but flirty, not trashy. She knew her body well. Knew how to dress to entice and not be overtly sexy.

  Her hair was bone straight, stretching past her shoulders, the thick strands bounced with volume as she tossed a few runaway tresses across her shoulder. Today, her straight hair showed off beautiful purple highlights that flirted with the lighting and played up her skin tone perfectly. She may have been busy running a drug empire, but she took care of her appearance, a quality about her I appreciated.

  The way you presented yourself to a group was as important as what you required of them. In that dress, she appeared to have just taken control of her competitor’s company.

  The pace of her steps slowed when she noticed that I stood in the living room waiting, but the click of those sexy gold heels didn’t stop until she had parked herself in front of me. A light dusting of dark eye shadow played up those flirty eyes that she dragged over me with enough seductive energy to make my breath catch.

  “Husband,” was her greeting, and one I was starting to like as she made it sound like a term of endearment.

  “Wife,” I returned. I enjoyed this little cat and mouse game we were playing with our attraction for one another. We wanted each other. The need seeped from us each time we were in the same room together, producing a heady mix that opened our untamed desires.

  I lowered my face to hers until my lips possessed her soft ones. Nothing short of magic laced our kiss, at first tender until it deepened, and her tongue sought mine. A few wanting pecks followed the kiss, but it wasn’t enough. I was thirsty for so much more.

  “I made you dinner,” I stated, stomping down my need, not wanting to appear too desperate.

  “You?” Her brows lifted, highlighting the reluctance to the notion of me preparing her a meal. After placing my hand on her lower back, I urged her towards the dining room, talking as we walked.

  “There is a lot about me you don’t know. I cook quite well, in my opinion. Although, I have to admit, I’ve never cooked f
or anyone except myself and my brother.”

  “What did you make me?” she questioned, warming up to the idea as her quick gaze scanned the area.

  “We will be having Beef Wellington, with my world-famous smothered asparagus and spinach gratin.”

  “Mmm, sounds good. I’m hungry.”

  “I’m no good with desserts, so I had Mrs. Kattie make us a chocolate mousse pie.”

  Relieving her of her purse, I sat it on the small table at the entrance of the dining room. After assisting her into her seat and placing the napkin in her lap, I couldn’t resist leaning in to steal another kiss.

  She sat, waiting with a wandering gaze while I approached with our covered plates, placing hers on the table before I placed mine. The smile she maintained kept me going because I was a novice. I hadn’t a clue as to how to keep a wife happy. But, for her, I was willing to try since I found myself doing shit I never even gave a thought to before.

  I returned with our red wine, pouring her a generous amount before removing the metal dome from her steaming food. Her smile widened at the sight.

  “Looks delicious. Smells even better,” she complimented.

  Once I was seated and poured myself some wine I lifted my glass in salute. “To our first home-cooked meal together. May there be many more.”

  The clink of our glasses sounded, and I held my breath as she went for her utensils and cut into the crust that revealed the liver pâté, and finally, through the tenderloin. I had never cared about anyone’s opinion of me, but Mecca’s mattered. She cut away a small bite and eased it into her mouth.

  After a few chews, her eyes fell closed, and I couldn’t tell if her reaction was good or bad until she released a low moan of delight. “Mmm.”

  “This is good,” she stated, cutting off a bigger piece this time. The sight of her enjoying my food pleased me and helped me decide right there that I was cooking for her as often as our lives would allow it.

  “How is it that you know how to cook?” she asked, pointing at the food. “Did you really cook this?”