Snatch: Cerberus MC Book 5

by Marie James

  When her lips hit mine, I feel like puking, clutching at her back in warning, my fingers digging into her flesh. I let her know as I press harder that if she sticks her tongue in my mouth, it’s the last thing she’ll do. Thankfully, she heeds the warning, keeping her assault to a closed mouth kiss.

  “Yeah,” Snatch says standing from the chair. “Good talk.”

  She only pulls away when the door leading back into the clubhouse off of the back porch slams shut.

  I’m doing this for you! I want to scream at the top of my lungs.

  “The fuck was that about?” I hiss as low as I can. With my hands on her upper arms, I grip her and pull her away from my chest.

  “What were you guys talking about?” She has to be pissed if she’s going to interrogate me in front of everyone.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” An immature response for such a serious situation, but it seems fitting with her blackmail.

  “You want me to ruin him? Everyone is here,” she seethes. “I’m sure they’d love to cap the night off with a video of you guys acting like faggots in the hallway. You seriously think Kincaid and Shadow are going to want you sick bastards around their children, tainting them. Shadow would kick you out of this club, worried that your gross little obsession with dick is going to overflow and you’ll go after his son.”

  “Enough,” I warn with no concern of who is overhearing us.

  Does she seriously think being bisexual or even fully homosexual translates into pedophilia? Evil incarnate, that’s exactly what this woman is. I’d rather eat my own fucking gun before I ever walk down the aisle and tie myself to her.

  I stand not bothered in the slightest when she barely gets her feet under her, keeping her from falling. I look around the yard, finding nearly everyone staring at us. My eyes land on Khloe, and I can tell by the disappointed look on her face that she knows exactly what’s going on. The girl is too damn bright for her own good. Without a word, I walk toward the clubhouse.

  “Lover’s quarrel,” Snapper says excusing my outburst as I walk away.

  “Someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight,” Snake says, hidden in the shadows. He’s probably got his cock down Gypsy’s throat yet still has to try to get the last word in on a conversation he wasn’t even privy to.

  Jackass.

  I stop in the kitchen on the way back to my room, grabbing several beers and an unopened bottle of whiskey from the counter. A drunken stupor seems like the best thing in the world right now. I need to erase the pain that’s burning a hole in my chest. Drown out the horrible things Snapper said. There’s no way in the world anyone with children in this clubhouse would think for a second that either Snatch or I would go after their babies. I’d give my life for every one of them without hesitation, even that tiny one in Misty’s flat stomach.

  Just like it always happens, my retorts and hateful things I should’ve said to Snapper come to mind after the three long pulls I manage to swallow between the kitchen and my bedroom.

  I’m pissed enough that I almost turn toward the back door, ready to blow this whole fucking thing out of the water, damn the consequences. I want to remind her that she’s probably eaten more pussy than dicks. I want nothing more than to remind her that some of her kinks are more depraved in society’s eyes than two men loving each other. I’d never judge her for the things that turn her on and get her off so long as I’m not involved, and it’s legal.

  Instead, I opt for locking myself in my room and daring her in my mind to knock on this fucking door tonight. I slide down the door, only two inches of wood and a door knob separating me from everything I ever wanted. I turn the bottle up again, the warmth running down my throat and radiating out as it hits my stomach.

  I drink until my vision blurs. I drink until the pain is bearable. I drink until I pass out, the words: I still love you, a jumbled mess of slurred syllables.

  Chapter 34

  Snatch

  “Not much different from Vegas if you think about it,” I whisper to Kid even though we’re a safe distance from the glorified whore house and there’s not a soul in sight paying any attention to the rusted up truck parked across the street.

  “Don’t even say the word Vegas around me fucker,” he mutters. Clearly, he’s not over the mild case of amnesia and the aftermath of that from years ago.

  Just another life Snapper nearly ruined.

  It’s been just over a month since the argument with Itchy, thirty-four days since I made the biggest mistake of my life. Which means it’s been three weeks since he turned the tables on me and announced he was getting married to the redheaded skank of the MC. We’ve settled into a less strained acquaintanceship that resembles the rapport people who tolerate each other in the workplace would have. I guess I can appreciate it, even though just the sight of him hurts.

  If this is love and heartbreak, it can kiss my tattooed ass. I pray for the day that I can walk into a room and see him without wanting to shake him, punch him in the nose and ask him just what the fuck he’s thinking by letting Snapper sink her fake, acrylic nails into him.

  I pull the neck of my t-shirt away from my throat feeling strangled by the humidity here in Brazil.

  “Are you going to talk about it?” Kid asks but keeps his eyes on the building in front of us. It’s not the neon lights and the bustling front entrance of the Luxury House that is our focus. The barely lit building a hundred yards away at the back is where we know the girl we’re looking for is being held. Kid and I are here tonight making sure no one leaves without us having eyes on them. The other guys are back at the command center across town gearing up for the raid. We’ll meet up with them within the hour to execute our infiltration.

  “Nope,” I answer him, pissed he’s even bringing it up.

  “You have to know he doesn’t love her.” He’s only stating the obvious. It’s clear he can barely stand Snapper even when he’s around others in the clubhouse.

  “Well, it’s apparent he doesn’t love me either.” How the fuck did he manipulate me into talking about the very subject I have no desire to mention ever again?

  “I’m not sure what exactly is going on, but there’s no way he’s going to marry her.”

  “The ring on her fucking finger says different,” I grunt. “Can you just drop it? I just want to move past all of it.”

  “If you love him, that’s the last fucking thing you should do.”

  I can’t reject his reasoning totally. It’s not like it isn’t something I’ve thought a million times over in the last month.

  “Tell me again who this girl is,” I urge, ignoring the subject he seems so hell bent on rehashing. What’s done is done, and I’m sick and fucking tired of living the heartache every damn day.

  “White female, eleven-years-old. Daughter of a real estate mogul from Key Largo,” he begins.

  Just a fucking baby. I hate sick fuckers who hurt kids.

  “Florida? Why the hell are we outside of San Paulo?”

  “Retaliation. The guy who had her abducted from in the front of her private school is in battle with her dad over a high-end client list some other piece of shit is selling,” he explains.

  “So fucked up,” I mutter. “Taking kids just to make more money when it’s apparent from this place that he’s not hurting for money.”

  “Greed and social status are strong motivators.” He doesn’t bother to hide the disdain in his voice.

  “Blade check this Florida guy out? If he’s going against this shady mother fucker, he can’t be clean. Are we taking jobs from criminals now?”

  I know Kincaid would never get involved in something like that, but I know he also has a soft spot for kids. Her father may not be winning Father of the Year awards, but letting her get hurt because he’s a piece of shit isn’t Kincaid’s style either.

  “Blade ran the dude out through every software he has. He makes a ton of legitimate cash. He told Prez that he’s certain not every deal the guy does is above board, but he couldn�
�t find anything in his background check that pointed to illegal dealings.”

  “But shady enough to piss someone off enough to have his eleven-year-old stolen?”

  “You know better than that,” Kid chastises. “Kids, women, hell, even men get taken all the time without having any criminal involvement. Sometimes being in the wrong place at the unluckiest fucking time in their life puts them in danger of being taken.”

  “This is purposeful,” I argue just for the sake of arguing. “This isn’t some sex trafficker working off a shopping list from their fucked up clients.”

  “Well regardless, we’re here, and we have a job to do. This shit will be over soon enough, and we can go back home.”

  I want to tell him that home is just as stifling as the heavy air around us. At least this mission has served as a much-needed distraction from the train wreck that my life has become.

  “We shutting this whole mother fucker down tonight?” I ask as I see another small group of American frat boys stumble out of the front doors.

  “Can’t,” Kid mutters. “We’ve been doing recon on the Luxury House for the last three days, and haven’t found a thing wrong. When Snake went in last night, he had a menu full of women to pick from, and they were adamant that he couldn’t get an underage girl there. Even flashing a wad of cash didn’t get him a hint that there might be anything other than legal prostitution inside.”

  “Why would anyone want to travel out of America to fuck a Brazilian hooker? Any club in Florida, LA, or the strip in...” I look over at him daring me to say the word. Wanting to keep my nose from bleeding I continue without finishing my sentence. “They can go all over America, skip customs and the damn airfare, and find some woman willing to put out for less than a steak dinner.”

  “Bragging rights? Fuck I don’t know,” he answers. “Snake said the inside is full of over the top amenities. There’s a spa, restaurant, indoor pool. Fuck, he even mentioned a gym for the fuckers that come and stay a week while sampling the menu of girls.”

  “Maybe this place is part of their ‘fuck a girl in every country’ plan.” I quirk an eyebrow at him.

  “Asshole,” he grunts at bringing up his lifelong goals before he met Khloe.

  “’I’ve never paid for sex in my life,” he corrects.

  “We all end up paying for it one way or another,” I counter.

  “True,” he concedes.

  His cell phone buzzes on the seat beside him.

  “Khloe?” I ask.

  “Nope. Prez. Coms on. They’re already in the tree line, eyes on the building. We have half an hour to get geared up and join them before we go in and pull that little girl out.”

  I crank the beater of a truck and pull away from the spot we’ve been parked in for the last two hours.

  “Thank fuck,” I mutter. “My ass was falling asleep just sitting here so long.”

  Less than two minutes later, Kid and I are out of the truck, tucked behind a dilapidated, deserted building in a lost and forgotten industrial part of town.

  “Don’t forget your night gear,” Kid says as he pulls his goggles over his head and rests them against his forehead.

  “Moon’s bright,” I tell him looking up at the near full circle in the sky. “I have a horrible headache, that shit is only going to make it worse.”

  In a record eight minutes, we’re leaving the truck and hitting the trees for the mile trek back to the rendezvous point we decided on earlier in the day. It’s the spot that gets us closest to the building without leaving the safety of the trees.

  “Fuck,” I grumble tripping over the exposed root of a tree. “Why didn’t you tell me that shit was there?”

  Kid chuckles but doesn’t slow his pace.

  “What are you children grumbling about?” Kincaid’s voice blasts through my com.

  “Sounds like old man has refused to wear his night gear again,” Shadow taunts.

  “Old? Dude, you’re several years older than me,” I counter.

  “He’s not the one with a birthday next week,” Itchy interrupts.

  “Oh that’s right,” Kincaid says with a soft chuckle. “How old will you be again? Thirty-five? Thirty-six?”

  “Twenty-eight, jackasses.” My voice is rough, but there’s a smile on my face.

  Itchy remembered my birthday, even with all the shit we’ve been through, it eases my heart just a fraction.

  “Strippers again this year?” Kid looks back over his shoulder as he asks the question.

  “No thanks,” I say with honest disinterest.

  My good mood falls flat at the memory of the strippers from last year. Itchy and I both left separately from that little party, keeping up the rouse of hating each other. We met up less than an hour later in a hotel a town over and fucked until we were dehydrated. Best fucking blowjob of my life is awarded to that night.

  Itchy clears his throat, and it makes me wonder if he remembers the gift he gave me also.

  “Thank fuck,” Shadow mutters. Kincaid and Kid chime in the ascent.

  Snake chuckles. The stripper party last year was hilarious. All three spoken for men in our club came along for camaraderie, but they were uncomfortable as fuck the entire time. Keeping their eyes on the beer bottles or talking with each other, eyes not wandering in the slightest.

  I reminded them that night they could look and enjoy the show the girls were putting on, and it wasn’t a form of cheating, but they shrugged me off and sighed with relief when Itchy left first, and I followed shortly after. I know it wasn’t probably five minutes later those three pussy-whipped mother fuckers were out the door.

  “I want strippers for your birthday,” Snake counters.

  “Shut up, Snake,” Kid, Shadow and Kincaid all say at the same time.

  We haven’t joked like this while on a mission in a long time. It feels like things are finally getting back to normal.

  Chapter 35

  Itchy

  Thankful for both the darkness and being positioned a little farther from the other guys, I adjust my cock in my utilities. How fucked up is it that the mere mention of Snatch’s birthday last year is enough to make me swell in my damn pants.

  I clear my throat, doing my best to ignore the friendly banter between all of the guys.

  My eyes never leave our point of entry into the building in front of us, but my mind is a million miles away. When people think about their wildest fantasies, it focuses on more money than they can ever spend, frivolous vacations, and never having to work at a dead end job again. The future I’d give anything to have looks a lot like the one I’m living, only Snatch is by my side every night, and we’re welcomed into society simply as two men who love each other, without all the opinions and hate speech, people would see us no differently than they would any other relationship.

  “How close are you guys?” Kincaid asks into his mic.

  “Two hundred yards,” Kid replies. “I have to go slower with the blind man behind me.”

  “So maybe I made a mistake,” Snatch grumbles, and I can hear him curse under his breath as he stumbles again.

  “Maybe?” I taunt.

  He huffs. “The moon is bright as fuck,” he challenges.

  “Yeah, how’s that working out in the woods?” Shadow cuts in.

  I feel his presence coming up on my left before I even look in his direction.

  “Won’t happen again,” he says before crouching about twenty feet away. “Anyone leave or enter since we left?”

  “We’ve seen a few shadows passing in front of the upstairs window, but the door hasn’t opened,” Kincaid says. “Let’s move. I’m sweating my balls off in this fucking humidity.”

  “A couple of months of living the high life, and you’ve already forgotten what it’s like in the trenches,” Shadow snarks.

  A collective chuckle echoes in my ears.

  “Yeah, yeah fuckers. Laugh it up. I’ll remember that when you take off for a while when your baby gets here,” Kincaid says.


  “That reminds me,” Dominic says, speaking for the first time tonight. He doesn’t say much, so we all quiet when he does. “I’m going to need some time off around the same time.”

  “What are you saying?” Kincaid says with hope in his voice.

  My lips tilt up in a wide grin.

  “That he’s old as fuck and should retire?” Snake answers for him.

  Kid laughs, something I’d never have the balls to do at Dom’s expense. I wait for the growl to come through the mic, but Dominic isn’t biting tonight.

  “Mak’s pregnant,” Dominic answers.

  “You tell us now,” Kincaid hisses into his mic. “When we can’t respond the way we should? Who the fuck does that?”

  “Dominic,” Kid says flatly.

  “You’re going to be a dad,” Snake adds.

  “I’m already a dad,” Dominic hisses into his headset.

  “Nothing against Jasmine,” Snake counters.

  “Shut up, Snake,” several men say.

  “Honest fucking mistake,” Snake grumbles.

  “I’m going to punch you in the damn jaw for telling us like this, asshole,” Kincaid warns. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

  An unfamiliar laugh rings out in my head, and I realize Dom is actually laughing at Kincaid.

  “Focus fellas. There’s a little girl’s life at stake here. We can all sit around a bar in a couple of hours and give Dom shit about his timing, but it’s time to work,” Shadow says. He’s always the one to bring us back down to level when we get out of line.

  “Everyone ready?” Kincaid asks.

  We all respond.

  “Just like any other day, brothers,” Shadow says as the click of taking our weapons off of safety can be heard through our mics. We arm ourselves as if we’re heading into the battlefield yet praying no one has to discharge their rifles. “See you on the other side.”