by M. N. Forgy
Her eyes widen, her throat bobbing as she stretches her neck back as far away from the serrated glass as she can.
“I think you might want to let go of the girl, sweetheart,” a raspy voice forces me to snap my head in the direction of the bar. Bull. He’s leaning along the counter, a wolfish grin on his face, as he looks me in the eyes. No fear in the fact I am less than an inch from insanity and killing this bitch. Just clear green eyes, looking at me with an unreadable look.
Natalia shoves my arm away and I drop the bottle. Blinking rapidly at where the hell I just went. I went black, I saw the darkness that I was warned would surface. It’s always right there, waiting to take me under at a moment’s notice.
“Your parents may have tried to hide you from what you’re born to do, but it’s a waste of time. Every Gomez comes into their own, right before they become an adult. Your DNA most potent, you can’t help the savage that is inside of you.” Uncle Benito tilts his head to the side, his thick finger raising my chin up to look him in the face. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the thoughts but I can’t.
“We are a different breed, my dear. Some people are bred to have blue eyes or to be smart. We were made of the best blood to design the best Cartel we can. So enough of playing princess, you’re a slave to your heritage, and you’re wasting not only your time but mine.”
“Did you see that? She’s fucking crazy!” Natalia screeches to anyone that will hear her, pulling me from inside my own head and taking me back to the shitty bar, and the handsome biker that takes my breath away in an unknown manner.
“You alright, darling?” Bull asks, concern written on his face.
Instinctively I cup my collarbone, trailing my hands down the necklace to the lion charm. The one my mother passed on to me as a child.
Bull’s eyes fall on my hands and those soft eyes go hard and cold, like a mask had suddenly been placed over them. I see why so many around here fear him, the look of a monster making me swallow hard but I cannot look away.
My eyes fall on his and the whole bar goes silent, as I get lost in those fierce emerald eyes. He doesn’t look away, and my heart beats faster because of it. He leans over brushing my china doll cut bangs out of my eyes. His finger grazing my eyebrow and the contact causes warmth to spread through my cheeks.
“You’ll pay for that,” Natalia hisses, taking me from the man in leather sitting before me. Quickly he retracts his hand, his shoulders rising with a long breath.
“I’m taking a break,” I mutter, as I turn and rush to the back. Raising my hand I touch my eyebrow where Bull touched me, trying to make sense of the way my mind and body react to him.
In a place of abandonment and chaos I have a sense of my reality, but with Bull here it seems he’s breaking barriers and making me feel things I never knew could exist.
It terrifies me.
Anahi isn’t as innocent as I once thought. She has a dark streak and though I find it sexy as hell, I’m not sure if I can trust her. She’s given me more than one reason not to. First the green bandana, then finding out her connection to the man they call Alvaro, and now the necklace the junkie said the woman who sold him gear was wearing.
Marching back to the motel to let them in on what just went down, I find Bobby and Kane sitting outside. Bobby’s legs are kicked up on a turned over trash can and Kane is nursing a beer.
“Look man, all I’m saying is if she’s on top she can’t get pregnant. It’s gravity, you can’t defy that shit,” Bobby shakes his head, dead serious.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I grunt, my boots scuffing to a stop. I swear it’s like I work around a bunch of horny school boys.
Bobby smiles that crooked fucking grin. “Kane is worried he got a bitch pregnant. I think he’s good as long as she was on top.”
I can’t help but sigh. “How do you not have ten kids running around?” He’s such a dip-shit.
He sits up, belching. “Not from my lack of trying that’s for sure. Not sure if Doc can get pregnant. We are supposed to go to the fertility doctor, but she keeps canceling. I think she’s afraid of the answer,” he replies, picking at the callus on the side of his hand. Now I feel like an asshole.
“I am not taking advice from him, don’t worry,” Kane laughs, taking my attention back to him. I raise a brow, curious if it’s a club hang around he fears he knocked up.
“Who do you think is pregnant?” I raise a brow and Kane’s face goes pale.
“It, I mean—” he stutters on his words, looking anywhere but at me. I step up to him, my eyes narrowing in on him. He’s keeping something from me he doesn’t want me to know.
“Who. Is. It?” I demand. I flick my gaze to Bobby, curious if he knows and he holds his hands up.
“Hey, I don’t know, brother.” His tone not giving me any reason to doubt him, I look back at Kane.
“You don’t want me to ask you again,” I half laugh, starting to get angry.
He lowers his head, fidgeting his hands.
“Simone,” he mutters.
“Your sister?” Bobby asks with surprise, but I’m hardly shocked. I saw it in his face as soon as he got her around other men. He has it bad for her.
He looks up at me with hard eyes, knowing he has fucked up.
“She’s not my sister,” he admits.
I fist him by the shirt, yanking him out of the fucking chair and to his feet.
“What do you mean she’s not your fucking sister?” I bark, demanding to know more. Is she a stepsister, or was he just plain fucking lying?
“She’s a friend. I couldn’t leave her behind, I don’t trust her family.”
“I don’t fucking care about her problems right now, I care about you lying to me!” I yell in his face, before pushing him back. He nearly trips over the chair trying to catch his balance.
“You lied, you betrayed me, and you put her and all of us at risk for it!” I point at him.
“I’m sorry! I fucked up—”
I punch him in the mouth, and his head whips to the side. One thing I cannot stand is a fucking liar. You get one in the club and they breed like cockroaches.
“Fuck!” He hunches over, holding his mouth that is swollen and bleeding.
“I hope she was worth you earning your fucking patch, because you ain’t getting it anytime soon.” I point at him shaking my head.
“Brother to brother, Kane. This club is built on trust, without it we’re as good as dead. You earn your patch, when your brothers know they can trust you with their life. You just fucked us all, dude,” Bobby states.
I nod in agreement, but Kane doesn’t say anything. His head bowed I can see the shame written on his face.
“You find anything at the bar?” Bobby asks, taking the conversation in a new direction. Looking back at the bar Anahi spins in my head.
She is definitely the one selling the drugs. Her allure is innocent, but I saw her true nature tonight. She is as dangerous as any man here, and my dick fucking wants her. The pulsing racing up my shaft for this girl sends vibes I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing though.
“Anahi is the dealer and she’s working the bar right now, so now is our chance to go through her shit and see if we can find any kind of connection,” I rub the back of my neck, ready to get out of here and away from the woman that has me second guessing why I’m here. She doesn’t seem so desperate to run like she was in LA. Is it because she doesn’t trust me, or is it because she’s back where she belongs?
“She is?!” Kane asks, looking at me doubtfully.
“She has the necklace on like the boy said,” I reply. “She’s not as precious as I thought either, she about cut a woman’s throat in there,” I point over my shoulder.
The boys’ faces go pale, realizing we might not be dealing with a damsel in distress after all. She could be dangerous.
“What do you want to do, Prez?�
�� Bobby asks, sitting up. “Want me to grab her and pull her into a room. Question her?” he continues. Rubbing my bottom lip with my thumb I think it over. The idea appealing, but more so because I want to see her tied up. I shake my head of that thought.
“No. Let’s not spook everyone. Because if we’re wrong whoever is holding the information we’re looking for is going to run,” I state firmly. I hate that I read Anahi wrong, my game is so fucking off it has me seeing red.
“Kick her door open or shoot it, let’s get this over with,” I state, not wanting to feel the way I am. My mouth suddenly feels dry, reminding me I need a drink.
They both get up and start toward her door after me.
“Do we pick it?” Kane asks, his prospect coming out of him boldly.
“Nah, this is an easy kick,” Bobby replies, kicking the door in one try.
“Nice job, brother,” I compliment as I stride past him inside.
It’s plain. No girly shit, no pink crap. The only hint that a female has been here is the lingering smell of perfume. Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath, the tones of honey perfume filling my lungs. My dick instantly swells, and my heart beats in my chest in wild excitement.
“You sure this is her room?” Kane asks, looking over his shoulder at me. The look on his face confused.
“Yeah, this is it,” I mutter under my breath. The day she ran to her room in the dust storm will forever be ingrained in my brain. The way her dress inched up, her ink color hair blowing around her face as she looked at me with such innocence I wanted to grab her by the throat and devour her on the spot.
“Oh, this is her room alright,” Bobby chuckles, grabbing my attention. He’s dangling a pair of plum colored lace panties from his fingertips. Leave it to him to go straight to a woman’s dresser.
Stepping up to him, I snatch them from his grip.
“We’re looking for information on what exactly this girl brings to the table, remember?” I remind him. His humor fades, and like that he’s back to business. I need to know if she’s in charge of this fucking operation or just a damn worker bee for someone else. When Bobby looks away, I tuck the panties into my pocket. What can I say, Bobby learned from the best.
We flip the mattress, over turn the dresser, pull every shirt and dress from the hanger and there’s fucking nothing.
Stabbing her pillow with my buck knife, the force more than necessary causes feathers to fly into the air. I don’t know what I’m looking for, just something. I know she is the one with the drugs. Unless that fucking weasel told us false info, so there has to be something in here linking her ass to The Cartel.
Then it hits me, I heard that other girl asking her how much she was given to sell back at the bar.
I perk up at the sudden remembrance. She was given so much gear to sell; she’s a fucking worker bee. She ain’t got shit in here to link her to anything.
“There’s nothing in here,” Kane states out of breath, dropping a dresser drawer to the floor.
Angry, I throw the lamp across the room. “She’s a fucking worker bee,” I rasp under my breath. “She won’t have anything in here.”
Bobby runs his hand back and forth through his hair, looking the room over.
“You sure?” he finally asks as he looks at me, his mouth parted. I nod, my hands on my hips.
She isn’t in charge, but she knows who is and I will strangle the fucking information out of her if I have to.
“There’s nothing here and I need a fucking drink,” I clip, marching through the tornado of a room and heading to mine.
Grabbing my bottle of whiskey, it occurs to me I haven’t had a drink all day.
I furrow my brows, not sure what that means.
Is it because I’m back doing what I do best?
I look at the wall where Anahi stays.
Or is it because a Cartel bitch has my mind elsewhere.
I throw the apron in the bin and push the metal backdoor open, the wind whipping my hair causing it to caress my face.
The bar has some air conditioning, but not much. When you get a lot of people in there it’s humid and hot. Your clothes begin to stick to your sweaty body and it becomes hard to breathe in such a small area.
A cough sounds behind me, alerting me Carlos is close behind. Dread fills my chest and I roll my eyes. Hopefully he makes a pit stop before coming straight to check on me at the motel.
Brushing the hair from my face I make my way to my room, my feet hurting. At least I sold all the drugs, but I wonder how much money Natalia pulls from her sales? Does Alvaro notice and not say anything, or does he know and covers for her? I bite my inner cheek in thought and reach for the door handle. I stop. Noticing the frame busted and my door cracked open.
Brows narrowing, I push the door open and find my room completely trashed.
“What the fuck?” I snarl, stepping over the flickering lamp. Hands on my hips I close my eyes and try to breathe through the fog that is clouding my judgement. A smog that is hostile and violent.
Who could have done this? Everyone around here knows who I am and wouldn’t be stupid enough to even knock on my door, let alone break in. My head snaps in the direction of the wall. Bull’s room is next door.
He had to have had something to do with this. They’re the only ones new around here and this goes to show they can’t be trusted. By the looks of this room they were looking for something and my bet is drugs, conveying the kind of man Bull is. He’s not here for me. He’s here for business.
Only one way to find out.
Stomping over to his room, I pound my fist on the door. Carlos is nowhere to be seen, but I’m sure he’s close by. My jaw clenches so tightly my face aches thinking about my trashed room.
“Open the fucking door!” I demand.
He swings it open and I take in a harsh breath. Oh fuck.
He has no shirt on, tattoos of intricate color claiming his torso. He has on torn jeans that hang low on his hips, a happy trail leading into a delicious dip. One that displays he’s not wearing any underwear.
I shake my head. I’m here to tear him a new one, remember?
“Why did you fuck my room up?” I bark straight out, not one to suggest that someone around here did it.
“Why do you think it was me?” he drawls as he places his arm over his head and leans it against the frame, his head tilting to the side.
“I’m not one for games,” I warn, acting as if his sexy appeal does nothing for me. “You and your men are the only dumb fucks around here stupid enough to go in my room. Now why did you go in there?” I yell, my nerves fraying.
“Wow, you this uptight all the time, or just when you need a man between your legs, darlin’?”
I gasp. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m surprised he outright just asked me that, or if I’m turned on.
I pull myself together and glare. Showing him his biker antics won’t work. Not on this female.
I punch the door and he steps back, his mask of humor slipping.
“Wow, you’re really a pistol aren’t ya?”
“Fucking tell me!” I demand. I don’t have a lot. Practically nothing, and now it’s all torn and smashed to bits. That space might have seemed insignificant to any other person, but it was mine. The only place in this fucking hell hole I can use as my escape.
He leans in, his dark features making him look dangerous and downright fucking delicious. His lips are plumped more than the typical male and his beard has signs of gray.
“Who are you working for?” he asks outright.
I hold my breath, taking a step back. Surely he didn’t ask me what I think he did. In the world of criminal activity, you don’t ask questions like that. It was seared in my brain that I do not speak about my uncle or where I get my drugs from.
“Who says I’m not in charge?” I say in rebuttal, crossing my arms.
He smirks, looking over my head and out into the distance.
“Because you’re shit at hiding what you’re doin
g in that bar, sweetheart.” His eyes narrow in on me, and every neuron in my body shoots off like a rocket. “So just tell me. Who. Do. You. Work. For?” he asks, running his hands up and down his chest lazily. My brows pinch together; angry he’d think I would rat so easily. Pissed that he doesn’t think I am capable of running such an operation. “Why were you in LA?” he continues.
“You ask a lot of questions,” I reply as if I’m bored.
“Let’s just say I’m a curious kind of guy,” he banters.
“Curiosity will get you killed around here,” I tilt my head to the side in response.
“Why? You going to kill me? Or are you going to run back to your boyfriend and tattle?” He crosses his arms, his tone making me angry.
“He’s… he’s not my fucking boyfriend and telling him won’t do either of us any good,” I blurt without thinking, the vulnerability in my voice higher than I’d like.
His face goes lax with that information, pity slipping over his usually grimacing face.
I hate it. He doesn’t know me, and I don’t need him to feel sorry for me.
I point at him, my finger inches from his face. “You’d be smart to pack your shit and fucking leave.”
“I’ll leave when I want and after I’ve received what I came for,” he states smugly, his tone threatening.
I’m so sick of egotistical men. Their constant need to be alpha omega makes me want to escape to a world where men don’t exist.
Turning and heading back to my room, I hear him step out of his.
Stopping at my busted door, I turn my head to look at him. I was right, he is going to turn this town upside down, and he’s going to get me killed in the process. Especially if anyone remembers him trying to save me back in Los Angeles.
“A lot of people may fear you, but I’m not just anyone,” I state gravely. My own strength in words surprising me. He thinks he’s unstoppable and that he has everyone in the throes of his strength. Maybe he does, but I’m not one. He has nothing on me, and can’t make me play his games.
He crosses his arms, a cocked smirk displayed on his sharp face. “You’re not scared of me because when you look at me, you see yourself, darlin’. I saw you tonight, with that glass against that bitch’s throat. The gleam in your eye at the thought of sliding it across her silky skin.”
