Filthy F*ckers: The Complete Series Box Set

by Hildreth, Scott

  “Air conditioner’s broke,” Lefty said. “It’s on the list.”

  “Put it on the top,” Crip said.

  Everyone walked toward the door except Smokey. After realizing he wasn’t with us, I turned toward the office.

  Lefty was coming around the side of his desk, and Smokey was fucking with his vape, banging it against the palm of his hand.

  “Gimme a sec,” Smokey said.

  I looked at Pee Bee and rolled my eyes. “And they say it’s better than smoking.”

  Lefty came out behind me, and Smokey soon followed. The entire time we walked down the hallway, Smokey lagged behind, fucking with his vape as he walked.

  Crip led the way down another corridor, and into the shop. After walking to the center of the floor, he stopped and turned around.

  “You the last one out of the dope house the other night?”

  Lefty gave a confused look. “What dope house?”

  “Dope house we gave all the girls a ride out of.”

  Lefty put his hands on his hips and shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know.”

  Smokey stepped between them. His vape was gone, and his hand now held a small snub nosed pistol. “You’re a god damned liar. And, if you reach for your hip, I’ll put one in your heart.”

  “God damn, it Smokey,” Crip said through his teeth.

  Smokey raised the pistol and pointed it at Lefty’s head. “I’m not fucking around, motherfucker. Take your right hand, reach around your gut, and pick that piece out from underneath your shirt with two fingers. Think about doing anything slick, and I’ll put one right between those beady fuckin’ eyes.”

  I took a step back and looked at Pee Bee. He did the same.

  Crip, who was behind Smokey, took a step to the side.

  “Crip,” Lefty said dryly. “Can you help me out here?”

  “Fuck him,” Smokey said. “This is between you and me, motherfucker. You’re making me out to be a liar, and I’m a lot of things, but that ain’t one of ‘em. Now, snatch that piece out from underneath your shirt.”

  With his shirt untucked, I hadn’t noticed he was armed. It came to me that Smokey patting his hand against his hip in the office was a signal.

  Lefty reached for the gun, lifted it from beneath his shirt, and held it by the grip.

  “Take it, Cholo.”

  I took it from Lefty’s hand, and stepped to the side.

  Holding the pistol rock-steady, Smokey cleared his throat. “I’m gonna ask the questions now. I saw your ass come out last, motherfucker. I saw you get on your bike. And, you know, the more I’m thinking about it, you couldn’t have got the money that night. There was too much of it. You hid the shit, didn’t ya?”

  The tension hung in the air like a thick cloud.

  Lefty stared back at him.

  “I’m gonna ask once,” Smokey said. “If you lie, I’m gonna drop you where you stand.”

  “Where’s the money you took?” Smokey asked.

  Lefty glared at him. “Crip. C’mon, Brother. You’re running this show. We go back too far to let--”

  “Answer the question, Left,” Crip said.

  Smokey pulled back the hammer of the pistol. “I shake like a squirrel on crack,” he said. “With this hammer back, I wouldn’t take too long to answer. This cheap fucker might just go off. Where’s the money?”

  Sweat rolled down Lefty’s cheeks.

  Then, he let out a sigh.

  I wanted him to say he didn’t do it. That he took a shit. Hell, anything. And then, as I tried to convince myself that it couldn’t be him, he responded.

  “It’s in my bedroom closet, in a duffel bag,” he said.

  It seemed like an hour passed after he responded, but I’m sure it was only seconds.

  “God damn it,” Crip snarled. “Get your ass back in the office.”

  Hell, I had no idea who Crip was talking to. Still blown away over Lefty’s response, I think I may have gone into shock.

  The next thing I knew, we were all walking back into the office, and Crip had Lefty’s gun in his hand.

  “Sit down,” Crip growled. “At your desk.”

  “Crip, I swear to you. I was gonna come to you and see if--”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Crip roared. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

  While Crip pointed the pistol at him, Lefty walked around the edge of the desk and sat down.

  I realized Lefty’s decision to take the money, and go against Pee Bee’s – and my – orders, had almost cost me my life.

  I felt sick. The torture was starting all over.

  “Look at Brother Cholo,” Crip snarled. “Motherfucker got tortured for two fucking days. Forty-eight hours of being burned, cut, beaten…” He paused and shook his head. “Give me the key to your fucking house.”

  Lefty reached for his pocket. “I swear, Brother, I haven’t spent more than five grand of it. There’s $640,000 there. Take it.”

  With it pinched between his thumb and forefinger, Lefty lifted the key.

  “Toss it to Smokey,” Crip said.

  Lefty did as he asked.

  “Now,” Crip said. “Your lying back-stabbing ass is going to commit suicide. Either that, or I’m going to go down to 14th and hire a bunch of meth heads to torture your ass. You’ve known me long enough, and you know me well enough to know I’m not fucking around.”

  “Crip. Brother. I…” Lefty pleaded.

  “I’m not your Brother,” Crip said. “Neither are these fellas. And there’s no way out of this, Left.”

  “Go outside, fellas.”

  Pee Bee shook his head. “Boss, I’ll shoot the son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Have to beat me to it,” Smokey said.

  “I’m serious, fellas,” Crip said through his teeth. “Get on your bikes.”

  One by one, we turned toward the door.

  Crip nodded toward Lefty. “And you get busy writing a suicide note.”

  “Crip, I’m beggin’ ya…”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  We walked to the parking lot in silence. It was still hard for me to believe he’d done it. One by one, we got on our bikes and sat waiting for Crip. I situated my cast on the board, and gazed down at it.

  I had four pins and two screws in my toes, and six bones in my foot were broken. I still didn’t have my teeth, and I wouldn’t for some time. The doctor said I’d never walk without a limp.

  The burns on my arms were going to leave scars for a lifetime, as were the cuts on my head.

  As the realization hit me of what Lefty’s selfishness had done to me, Pee Bee’s voice brought me out of my daze.

  “Good lookin’ out,” he said.

  I exhaled heavily and looked up.

  Smokey nodded. “Just protecting the fuckin’ club.”

  Crip walked out, got on his bike and shook his head. After taking a deep breath and staring up at the sky, he looked at me.

  “Sorry, Brother,” he said. “I really am.”

  Before I could respond, the sound of a pistol firing caused us all to look toward the building.

  Crip got off his bike and walked inside. In a few moments, he returned.

  “It’s over,” he said.

  I looked at the reflection of my face in my mirror.

  It’s never going to be over, I thought.

  Ever.

  Chapter One Hundred Ten

  Lex

  I met Adam at his house at 6:00, and although he’d been home for an hour, we really hadn’t spoken. I felt like something must have happened, but I knew better than to ask.

  He’d made it clear that club business was not to ever be discussed.

  I stood and then looked down at him. He seemed depressed. “Get up.”

  He looked at me. His eyes were emotionless.

  “Get up,” I said.

  He stood, and then pulled his hat down low on his head. “What?”

  “Follow me,” I said.

  I walked out the front door and down the steps. As I reac
hed the landing, I turned toward him. “Need some help?”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  He limped toward the edge of the porch, and then carefully walked down the steps. “Where are we going?”

  “Just follow me,” I said.

  I walked to the garage, unlocked the door, and opened it. “Come here.”

  “I’m really worn the fuck out,” he said. “It’s been--”

  “Come on,” I said. “I’m waiting.”

  He walked inside the garage and put his hands on his hips. “What now?”

  “Get on,” I said.

  He sighed, and then got on the motorcycle.

  I put the key in the ignition, turned it, and then checked to see if the green light lit up. When it did, I flipped the switch on the handlebars. Then, I pushed the start button.

  The engine turned over a few times, and then came to life.

  “Put your hands up on the bars,” I said.

  He reached for the bars and rested his hands against the handle grips.

  “Your right hand is the throttle,” I said. “Close your eyes and turn it back a little.”

  He did as I asked. After revving the engine a few times, he grinned.

  “Therapeutic, isn’t it?” I asked.

  He opened his eyes and nodded.

  “Close ‘em,” I said. “Until whatever’s bothering you is gone.”

  As his arms shook, I looked him over. The bruises were gone from his face, and his arms weren’t healed, but they were a lot better than they were. Small scabs covered the tip of a dozen or more burns that were shaped like little volcanoes.

  Two of the cuts on his face were healed, and two weren’t. The two that had healed were going to scar, but not near as bad as the others.

  It was the scars I couldn’t see that bothered me.

  And not on his leg or his foot.

  The scars on his soul.

  It was something I knew a little bit about. But every day, I got a little better. Every day, I got closer to understanding that I could trust him fully and completely. And, every day, I got closer to allowing myself to attempt to have sex with him.

  I knew he wouldn’t push it. He wasn’t that type of person, and he cared for me too much to hurt me.

  But, when I was ready, he would be too.

  At least I hoped he would be.

  I stood there and admired him for what seemed like forever, but I wasn’t one to ever complain about looking at him. The scars on his face gave him character, and made him that much more intriguing.

  Hopefully, in a few years, we’d both be able to look back at our experiences and realize that they helped shape us into who we had become.

  I hoped that person was a little more reserved with outsiders, and a lot more trusting with the man I loved.

  At some point, he opened his eyes and looked at me.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m done. You can turn it off now.”

  I tried to remember exactly what he’d said the night he let me sit on it. After a few seconds, I grinned. “You sure?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Uh huh.”

  I flipped the switch, and the garage went silent.

  “That was awesome,” he said.

  “Relaxing, isn’t it?”

  He smiled. It was an honest to God genuine smile. “It’s hypnotic,” he said.

  “Are you relaxed?”

  “I love you,” he said. “I really do.”

  It was the first time he’d told me. I’d known I’d loved him for some time, but was reluctant to tell him first. I gazed down at my feet for a moment, and then met his gaze. “I love you, too. Let’s go inside.”

  “You sure you don’t want to stay out here?” he asked. “It’s nice. We could sit on the porch.”

  “No,” I said. “Let’s go inside. I don’t think the neighbors ought to watch us fuck. At least not the first time.”

  “What?” he coughed.

  “Sex. I’m ready for it.” I giggled. ‘You think you’re up to it?”

  “I think we could work something out,” he said.

  I looked at his cast, turned toward the house, and took off running.

  “Last one in gets the wet spot,” I said over my shoulder.

  It was going to be a bad deal for the loser.

  I planned on making a big one.

  Chapter One Hundred Eleven

  Cholo

  Completely nude, she was standing on the far side of the couch with her mouth twisted into an innocent smirk.

  I swallowed, reached for the door, and pulled it closed behind me.

  “I’m ready,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Following a moment of admiration, I fought against the pain and limped in her direction. “I can see that.”

  “Not like, naked ready,” she said, her tone innocent and smooth. “I’m ready up here.”

  She tapped the tip of her index finger against her temple.

  “I think I am too.” I paused and gave her another look. She was a beautiful woman, and her remarkable body simply complimented her gorgeous appearance.

  She cocked her hip and looked me over. “You better be.”

  I braced myself on the arm of the couch and chuckled at her level of comfort.

  She tilted her head to the side. “You sure you’re up to it?”

  “I’ve been ready,” I said, lowering myself to the couch. “But that doesn’t mean I’m able.”

  My foot was killing me. Slightly over-eager to get into the house, I’d hit the front of my cast on the concrete platform of the porch. The pain was excruciating.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just give me a minute.”

  She walked around the edge of the couch and lowered herself to the floor. “What happened?”

  Embarrassed and frustrated, I nodded toward my foot. “Hit my toes on the porch.” I looked up and met her worried gaze. “I was kind of in a hurry to get in here.”

  “Oh crap,” she said. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

  “No.”

  “We don’t have to--”

  “I’m fine,” I assured her. “It’s just the walking.”

  “Does it hurt now?”

  “Not if I’m off it,” I said.

  It was beyond embarrassing, especially considering that it was the first time we’d planned on having sex.

  “Stay off it, then.” She stood, leaned over me, and reached for the hem of my shirt. After pulling it over my head, she tossed it aside and reached for my belt.

  “Does this hurt?” She asked as she unbuckled my belt.

  I grinned and shook my head. “No.”

  She unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped them, and reached inside. As her hand gripped my already stiff shaft, I flinched.

  She raised both eyebrows. “Painful?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She stroked it slowly. “Now?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  She gripped it firmly and began to stroke it from balls to tip. As she jacked her hand up and down the shaft, her full lips parted slightly. I thought she was going to speak, but she swept her tongue across her upper lip and lowered her gaze instead.

  Seeing her stand before me naked with my cock in her hand was a little more than I was prepared for. Having her stroke it while teasing me with her lips was almost too much.

  My eyes fell closed.

  She stroked her fist up and down a few more times and then paused. “Now? Does it hurt now?”

  “I uhhm.” I opened my eyes. “No.”

  She grabbed the waist of my jeans and carefully worked them to the middle of my thighs. After pulling my boxers down to meet them, she reached for my cock.

  She knelt on the floor in front of me. “What about…” With her eyes locked on mine, she licked the tip. “Now?”

  I shook my head.

  She licked it a few more times, and then opened her mouth wide. As my swollen tip disappeared past her lips, I closed my eyes and began to moa
n.

  Several strokes of her mouth later, she stopped. “Does it hurt now?”

  “No,” I breathed. “Definitely not.”

  “Good,” she said.

  She wrapped her full lips around the tip. She met my gaze, and blinked her beautiful brown eyes.

  Then, she began to fuck me with her mouth.

  Up and down her head went, taking my cock fully and completely into her mouth. Completely at a loss for how she could possibly do what she was doing, I watched in awe as she continuously swallowed my entire cock.

  The feeling was beyond compare. Each time I disappeared into her wet throat, I was sure it would be the last. On the cusp of coming in her mouth, my shaft began to swell.

  Her mouth worked at a more rapid pace, driving me insane with each full stroke of her mouth.

  I closed my eyes and made a conscious effort to somehow last through her onslaught.

  She lifted her mouth from my cock, began to stroke it, and while she did, started sucking my balls.

  Dear. Fucking. God.

  With my balls in her mouth, and my slippery cock in her fist, she brought me closer and closer to climax.

  Just when I thought I might be able to last long enough to make love to her, she released my balls from her mouth and began the mouth fuck exercise again.

  I fought to breathe without making an ass of myself. I was beginning to sound like a child who had just seen a three-headed monster in his closet.

  Just when I was sure that coming in her mouth was imminent, she lifted her head.

  She gripped it in her hand, stroked it a few times, and then looked at me. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

  I stared back at her with an open mouth, incapable of doing much more.

  And, she disappeared.

  I glanced over my left shoulder and then my right. I thought maybe she’d gone to get a condom, but then heard noise in the kitchen. As I struggled to bring myself to my feet, she came around the corner with a knife in one hand, and a pair of scissors in the other.

  “What the hell are--”

  “Sit down,” she said.

  “What the--”

  She wagged the scissors at me. “Sit.”

  I sat.

  She knelt, lifted my good leg, and began cutting the denim starting at the leg opening. As I watched her with an open mouth as she methodically worked her way toward the hip.