by M. N. Forgy
“We were set up, goddamn it!” Frank hollers.
“I told you just to kill that little prick.” Cross groans deeply as if he’s in pain. He must have been hit, too.
The doors to the suite are suddenly kicked in, and in steps Zeek and Lip. He has on dirty blue jeans and a black shirt that is taut along his chest. His chest is heaving, the look on his face resembling the damn Hulk. His eyes sweep over the suite before slowly landing on me.
My heart beats in slow motion, butterflies forming in the pit of my stomach. The corner of his mouth lifts into the smallest smirk. “Rookie,” he mouths, making my world come alive again.
I’m not going to die.
Felix and Lip step into the room, looking the scene over. A smile breaks through my frown, my chest warming. They’ll all here. To save me. The cop.
Cross’s shoulders rise and fall, his eyes building with rage as his face nearly turns purple.
“AAHH!” Cross hurdles himself across the room and attacks Zeek, they both crash to the ground. Cross slams his fist into Zeek’s face, before Zeek rolls over and returns the hit. The sound of fist on bone echoing throughout the hotel room.
Frank steps forward and Lip presses his gun into the back of his head, stopping him.
A blond haired guy with a Devil’s Dust cut on makes his way to me—Bobby, I think it was. He cuts the wrap around the chair with a Buck knife. Adrenaline pounds through my body so fast I don’t have the patience to wait for him to free my hands from the cuffs. I rip the Saran Wrap from my body, and run to help Zeek.
“Jillian, NO!” Zeek hollers as he spots me. Cross taking the advantage, gets the upper hand and is on top of Zeek, his hands around his neck. I don’t even give Zeek’s men the chance to interfere, I tense all my muscles, grit my teeth, and thrust my foot into Cross’s face as hard as I can. Rage drives my adrenaline. I want my gun, I want to kill him! Cross flies off Zeek, landing on his back. A dazed look crossing his face as his head makes contact with the floor roughly.
Zeek chokes, and pants rolling over on all fours.
An emotional growl erupts from my mouth, not feeling satisfied that Cross is still alive. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants trying to calm myself, Zeek groaning behind me. My hands slide along a bulge in my pant pocket, reminding me of the cross from the rosary beads Zeek gave me. After all this time. It’s stayed with me, protecting me when Zeek wasn’t able to.
“Think of me or some shit” echoes in my mind. Nobody has ever stood up for Zeek. Assholes who terrorized him seemed to have bullied the only faithful few he’s had on his side.
Fishing it from my pants, my hands tied making it harder I pull it out, palming it. Flicking my gaze to Zeek, his eyes widen when he sees I’m not done.
“Jillian!”
Swallowing hard, my heart beats wildly against my chest as I look Cross in the eyes.
“I’m going to enjoy ripping you apart.” My words surprise me, coming from a dark place I never knew I had. Nonetheless, I don’t falter.
I step forward, crouching down and slam the end of the pendant into his chest with all my might. Blood spits across my face, but I’m not done yet. I dig it deeper and deeper, forcing the wound to open more and more. Blood starts to trickle from my palm as I watch his chin resting on his chest, his gaze cast downwards at the cross protruding from his chest. His dark eyes slowly find mine, realization that he might die tonight flaring behind them.
“You don’t mess with family.” I tug the cross from his chest, a sob leaving my mouth. Blood pours from the wound, his chest heaving with pain. I turn, the bloody pendant in my hand.
His hand covers the wound, as his eyes cloud and his chest heaves for air. The adrenaline running rampant through my limbs dissipates, realization of what I just did beginning to sit heavy.
What the hell did I just do?
“You okay, baby?” Zeek asks softly, coming face to face with me.
“Yes, I’m fine.” The words get caught in my throat. Setting one of his guns down, he pulls and yanks at the cuffs. I wince, my wrists reminding me my skin is like raw meat.
“Wait, I got it.” Mac takes my hands, and pulls out a tool resembling a bobby pin. In seconds, my hands are free. It’s kind of scary how fast he is at picking the handcuff locks.
“Thank you,” I croak.
He winks. “Don’t mention it.”
Zeek’s hand clasps the back of my neck, and he pulls me in for a strong kiss. One that literally melts everything that has been sitting on my shoulders since I was taken. A warmth spreads through my limbs as I close my eyes and revel in the feeling of security. The smell of leather and spice comforting me. I missed this man, I missed him so fucking much. Kissing him, being this close to him after being ripped from his arms, I can say without a doubt that I’m his forever. Just like he said, I’ll never be able to leave him.
Zeek slowly pulls his lips from me, and I pout inside. Not wanting it to stop.
I look into Zeek’s eyes, I don’t want him to break the comforting embrace his arms bring. I know what’s going to happen next because the look of lust and love is fading into something black and ominous. Pulling his hollow gaze from mine, he focuses on Frank.
Zeek
I TAKE A BREATH IN, trying to calm myself but the fury raging inside of me cannot be contained.
Sliding my hair back out of my face, I glare at Frank.
He made this beast, fed this monster for years, and now he’s about to see his masterpiece firsthand.
Like the little bitch that he is, he tries to run. He doesn’t make it very far though, because Lip pistol whips him in the head making him fall to his knees.
Freeing my gun from its holster, I stride toward Frank.
“This ends here,” I seethe.
“Zeek, wait,” he begs. “Please, have mercy, nephew. Understand where I am coming from as your uncle. I was just trying to make you the man I know you’re capable of being.” I snort, and check the clip, making sure it’s loaded with bullets.
Then I aim the gun at him, and his face stills, the act that he has been performing everything for my own good falling into what he really is. A ruthless outlaw. A Deluca.
His act fades when he realizes he’s going to die, his true demeanor forming his face with an edge.
“I should have killed you along with your snitching father.” His tone dripping with malicious intent. “You know why I set you up to kill him? Because I knew you’d be weak and vulnerable afterwards, and you were. It was so easy to manipulate you into doing whatever I needed.” He chuckles, his head falling back before his dead eyes pin me where I stand. “But, see, I failed to mention one crucial part of information. That wasn’t your father. Your bitch of a mother slept with Cross when she found out her husband was getting his dick wet with her club whore of a best friend. Cross is your father. Do you hear me? You. Are. Cross’s. Son.”
“That’s not true,” Lip shouts behind me. I’m not surprised he’d defend our mother so quickly. It makes sense though, as much as I don’t want it to be, it all makes perfect fucking sense.
I look over at Cross’s body lying there bleeding out and try to see if I feel anything. A tether to him, a bond, or a simple connection that will tell me this man was indeed the man who fathered me. But I feel nothing. Just like I had been taught to feel for as long as I could remember. There’s no warmth swelling my heart like when I look at Jillian—the light that grounds me, the one person in this world who has guided me into seeing that there is more to me than a beast incapable of emotion.
The only thing I feel for Cross is nothingness. He wasn’t my father, I tell myself. He was a coward, no matter how big and bad he was in the streets of Vegas. He was a coward within this circle of lies for letting another man raise me as his.
“It is very much true.” Frank continues to laugh, bringing my attention back to him. “Why do you think your mother hated you so much, Zeek? You were your mother’s one mistake, the one fuck up your ‘father’ held over her
head. The mistake I was fortunate enough to use to my leverage, Zeeky Boy. You were the Deluca’s best kept dirty little secret that kept everyone—”
Leaning down in Frank’s face, my nose nearly touching his, my nostrils flare. My eyes flicking back and forth between his, seeing something very familiar. Frank and I aren’t so different, or at least we weren’t before I met Jillian. Before her, I was a man with one goal—power. I wanted to be on top, and rule the streets no matter the cost. Power is more addicting than sex, drugs, or money. It clouds your mind and reaps your soul, and before you know it, you’re not living, and you’re just surviving. Frank taught me that, he injected that drug into my veins when he set me up to kill my father. My father. At least the man I perceived as my father. The man who gave me the dirty needle of the constant craving to be the guy who deserves respect from such a young age. Because of that I’ve lost not only people I love but I lost who I could have been.
“Save a spot for me in Hell,” I seethe through clenched teeth. I turn, trying to decide how I want to go forward.
“After everything I have given you, you’d think a little mercy and understanding would come a bit more freely from you.” Just as the condescending words leave Frank’s mouth I turn back around.
“Delucas don’t have mercy.” I kick him in the throat, a roar ripping through my entire body. Frank flies into the bullet riddled glass, crashing through it and free falling twenty floors down. Wind blasts into the hotel room, and Jillian screams behind me. Stepping to the edge of the glass, I look down, finding Frank nothing but the size of a bloody speck. His arms and head dismantled as he lie there in pieces. The fall so great his limbs snapped off from the impressive impact.
People are running around screaming. Complete fucking mayhem breaking out. I rub at my chin. I’m going to have to use a lot of brownie points to get out of this one.
“Zeek?” A scared voice grabs my attention. Turning, I focus on Jillian who is standing much closer than before, her arms holding her stomach in a protective manner, and one of her arms is bleeding. My eyes fall to her stomach, and I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. One I have been withholding since Frank took her. Reaching for her, I tangle my fingers into her hair and bring her chest flush with mine. Needing to feel her heart beat against mine.
“Are you okay?” My eyes look deep into hers, and she shakes her head. Tugging her bottom lip in between her teeth, tears fall from her eyes.
Shit!
I know she has to be beyond scared, and this is against everything she stands for. How she can look at me the same after she’s seen the animal I’m capable of becoming will be a miracle. I love her though, and I will see to it that those eyes are filled with nothing but love and lust, and not in fear when she looks at me.
I can’t stand to see her afraid of me, I need her love. I have to have it or I won’t survive. For some reason, she’s the only one I trust in this world.
“I’m going to get you out of here.” I pull her to my chest, her fingers clawing into my shirt.
“Shit, we got a problem.” Tearing my eyes from Jillian I look at Felix. “Cross is gone.”
“What?!” Letting go of Jillian I look to where I had last seen Cross, and find spots of blood trailing to the elevator. “You didn’t watch him?” I ask as I open the elevator, only to find it empty.
“We were right behind you, man. We were watching Frank, I thought Cross was a done deal. Dead.” Mac shrugs.
“FUCK!” I scream.
“He’s gone? He can’t be gone! He’s going to come back, he’s—”
“Jillian!” I holler, interrupting her. Placing my hands on her arms, her body shakes, her eyes leaking with scared tears.
“I’ll find him. I won’t give up until I find him, baby. I promise.” She nods, her eyes fluttering.
Pulling her close I wrap my arms around her, needing to hold her. Let her know I’m here. She winces from my strong hold. Pulling her an arm’s length away I notice blood staining her arm. My chest weighs heavy, realizing she’s been hit.
“Fuck, baby.” Pulling her arm out I inspect the wound. The bullet just grazed her.
“It burns bad, but I think I’ll be fine,” she responds through clenched teeth. I want to turn around and slam my fist down Shadow’s throat. He swore he wouldn’t hit her. But, then again, she might not even be standing here without their help.
“Shadow texted, said the gun jammed and recoiled harder than he anticipated. Nearly dislocated his shoulder when firing,” Bobby informs, holding his phone. Shadow must have saw me looking at Jillian’s arm. Glancing out the window I look up on the rooftops, and jut my chin out. Silently telling him we’re good.
“We need to get going,” Lip informs his brothers, looking down at Frank’s body from the window. “We got cops.” The Devil’s Dust scatter out of the building, and Lip stops at the elevator.
“You coming?” Bobby questions Lip, holding the doors open.
“Nah, go. I’ll be down in a second.” Turning back around he crosses his arms and smirks in my direction.
“It wasn’t so bad working with ya,” his voice humorous. I think Lip and I have always had a miscommunication since we were kids. With both of our parents out of the way, and our heads out of our asses, thanks to some spitfire women, maybe now we can actually have the bond brothers are supposed to have. Pride, and the size of our dicks set aside. (Because we all know mine’s still bigger.)
“Yeah, same.” I smile, heading toward the elevator holding Jillian’s hand. We all climb in, willing the elevator to race down so we don’t get caught by the police.
“You need help cleaning up the club?” He flicks a brow my way.
“I think my boys and I can take care of it. You got a family to get back to. I appreciate everything, brother, really.”
“You know Frank was talking shit, right? You’re my brother Zevin, I can feel it, and I know it.” Closing his eyes, he shakes his head. I have no doubt that Lip is my brother, whether it be half or fully. But I don’t think Frank was talking shit.
“Probably, he’s always been full of shit,” I lie. I’ve always been jealous of Lip and my mother’s close friendship, but it’s something I don’t want to take away from him. Not anymore anyway.
“If you ever need us, or not, and just want to shoot the shit or play some pool…give me a call.”
“You mean you might actually pick up the phone if I call?” I jab with a smile on my face. Trying to cut the awkward tension surrounding the foreignness of our bonding.
“We’ll see. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he jokes laughing.
The elevator doors open, and the garage is empty of police.
Shadow leans over and opens the passenger door of the SUV, urging Lip to get in.
“Later, bro.”
“Later,” I whisper.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jillian
RIDING ON THE BACK OF ZEEK’S BIKE, his getback whips flow with the wind. My hands wrap tightly around his frame, so tightly I’m not sure he can breathe. So many things are running through my mind as we head to what looks like my place. The pregnancy, me getting my job back, my mother, talking to Alessandra. But most of all, Cross. I have this gut clenching feeling he’ll be back. I’m not easily scared, sure I’ve been frightened the last few days, but the terror rising up my spine is in a category of its own.
Zeek pulls into my driveway, and turns the bike off. Kicking the kickstand, he swings his leg off and holds his hand out to take mine, helping me off.
“Thank you,” I reply.
His face is red, veins protruding on his strained neck. He paces, his nostrils flaring like a pissed off bull.
I bite my lip not sure what to say or do.
“Zeek?” He turns quickly and grips both sides of my face.
“I’ll kill that motherfucker, I promise. He thinks he can run? I will find him, and I will slit his throat.” His eyes dilate, his fingers unintentionally digging into my chee
ks. “Do you believe I’ll protect you?”
I nod, my exhale shaky. Pulling my head forward he smashes his lips to my forehead. His soft lips against my skin searing my heart and soul together. We sit there just like that for a few minutes, not wanting to let the other go.
Finally breaking apart, I unlock the door and freeze. It looks like I’ve been robbed. Wait, no, everything is still here. There are clothes strung everywhere, I lean down to pick up a piece of clothing up that I don’t recognize.
“What the hell?”
“Shit.” Zeek grabs the pair of red boxers from my hand and starts snatching up pieces of clothing thrown around my living room.
“Umm, do you know who this stuff belongs to?”
Jinx meows, skidding on his claws as he sprints into the living room and right to me. Hunching down, I coo at him as he rubs against me, meowing like crazy. He missed me.
“I asked Machete to look after Jinx, I didn’t know he took that as an invitation to stay here.” He runs his palm down his face, looking around at the empty Mountain Dew cans. “I’m really sorry, I’ll call his ass to come clean this mess up.”
I wave my hand at him. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s the least I can do if he took care of my cat.”
Zeek’s forehead wrinkles. “You sure?”
Standing up I scratch between Jinx’s ears as I bring him up to me. “Yes, I’m very sure.”
He smiles, heading toward me. Using his index finger he rubs the patch of velvet on Jinx’s nose.
“I see Devil cat missed you.”
“He didn’t mean that,” I whisper into Jinx’s ear, as I nuzzle him closely.
Zeek gives a condescending smile. “Oh, but I did.”
Letting Jinx down, putting my hands on my hips I look around the dirty house. It’s going to drive me nuts until it’s cleaned.
Zeek threads his thick fingers with mine, pulling me from the mess. Where his rough palm touches mine, a tingly warmth spreads up my arm. It’s sexy knowing my man has rough hands, it’s masculine. “Don’t worry about the house, we have a lot of shit we gotta work through first, it can wait.”
