The Butcher of the Bay: Part II

by J Bree

  Illi raises his middle finger at him without looking at him and cups my face with his other hand. “Are you okay with this? I can figure something else out if you’re not.”

  I shake my head. I’m not going to be that scared girl anymore. I’m the new and strong Odie, the one who can take on anything and survive. Besides, I have my gun holstered to my leg now. No panicked scrambling to find it if someone makes it past Roxas.

  I’m sure no one will get past him.

  He's built smaller than Illi is but he's still much bigger than I am. There's weapons strapped to every inch of his body and the easy way he carries himself speaks of confidence and self-assuredness. He knows how to make it out of a fight.

  He made it through Lord Devareux’s manor after all.

  Illi gives me one last kiss and heads out, the roar of his Mustang loud as he leaves me behind with one of his most trusted friends.

  I try not to think about the betrayal of his oldest friend, not that I blame him for that, not at all, but it pops into my mind nonetheless.

  I finish up making the crepes while Roxas pokes around the apartment. It doesn't worry me at all but the interest he's taking in everything seems... a little strange.

  "Would you like to eat with me? I made more than enough."

  He turns back towards me with a grin from ear-to-ear. "I never say no to food. Thanks for cooking, I usually just eat bar food."

  I have no idea what sort of food would be served at bars but with his physique it must not be that terrible.

  He carries the heavier plates to the table for me and I grab all of the trimmings for the crepes. I prefer mine with Nutella and fresh strawberries and Roxas watches me assemble mine before starting on his.

  "Fuck, these are pretty damn good. I was expecting them to be like thin pancakes."

  I try not to let the horror show on my face.

  Heathens.

  He sees it anyway and laughs, shoving half a crepe in his mouth in one go. He makes his way through eight of them before finally being full. He's far more friendly than I thought a biker friend of mon Monstre's would be, taking an interest in my life before I came to the States and how my life looks now. None of it is inappropriate, he never leers at me or makes comments about my looks, but I still feel most comfortable with him on the other side of the table.

  I may never trust men enough to be completely comfortable around them and that's okay with me. Mon Monstre is enough for me.

  "This place is cleaner than I expected. Guess that's the woman's touch."

  I startle out of my daydream and glance over to him. "I haven't changed anything. Only the painting over the fireplace is mine, and the art things over by the window."

  His eyebrows shoot up and he looks around again. "Well, I'll be fucking damned. Who'd have thought the Butcher was into sleek kitchens and marble floors."

  I tilt my head at him, propping my chin on a fist as I take him in. "You haven't been up here before? I thought you were friends."

  He laughs and leans back in his chair, crossing his ankles. "I've been in the garage and his workroom, but I've never been up here. Well. Only the other night and I was too fucking pissed off to notice a damn thing. I just never pegged him for a guy who gave a shit."

  I did.

  I know what it's like not to have nice things, to live in places that aren't really fit for human inhabitants and I know his time in the group home would be the reason this place now looks so beautiful. He might be the Butcher on the streets, covered in weapons and blood, but here he's just Johnny Illium. Mon Monstre.

  The man I love.

  The apartment is quiet.

  That’s nothing unusual, during the night while mon Monstre is working is always quiet, but knowing that he is out of town for work and I’m here with one of his friends… it makes it a little more alarming. Roxas spends hours downstairs in the garage working on his bike, leaving me to my day of working on my paintings. I can't get my head into it at all and finally I realize that I can't get into the right flow with him here. I might be safe but this is not my usual safe space.

  So I go and shower to get the paint off of my body then once I'm dressed in mon Monstre's sweatpants and one of his workout shirts, I brush my teeth and comb out my hair so I'm ready for bed.

  There's no way I can possibly fall asleep right now without mon Monstre here, so I pull the blanket off of our bed and set up a cocoon for myself on the couch. My concussion has made TV difficult for me to watch but I get ready to give it a go anyway.

  Then I text Illi, tell him I miss him but I'm okay.

  He answers back straight away.

  I love you, baby girl. Sleep tight, I'll be home soon.

  I make some snacks and then get situated, flicking through the channels on the TV but finding nothing worth watching. It's impossible to get comfortable like this and I feel as though I might scream in frustration.

  I enjoy being alone so why am I now lonely?

  There's a quiet knock at the door and then it swings open, Roxas walking in grinning at me.

  "You look comfy. I was coming up to pass out on the couch but I don't want to move you."

  I smile and hold up the remote. "You can join me, if you want? I can't find anything worth watching so you can pick. Or I can go to bed if you're tired."

  I really don't want to do that but he closes and locks the door behind himself with a chuckle. "Movie night sounds great! I'm sure we can find something that isn't shit."

  He kicks his boots off by the door and stalks in, slinging the leather vest over one of the dining chairs and then pulling the hoodie over his head. I see at least five guns strapped to his body. It’s clear he’s taking this babysitting duty seriously.

  “Would you like some popcorn? I’ve just made a bowl.”

  He grins at me and takes a handful from where I’ve moved it, right in the center of the couch where we can both reach it. We're still as far away from each other as the couch will allow but it works perfectly.

  The movie starts out violent but now I’ve been in worse situations… it doesn’t look quite so scary.

  “This isn’t going to give you nightmares, is it? I don’t need Illi carving me up because he gets back to you all scared and shit.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t dream anymore. Not of monsters or killers.”

  He grunts softly under his breath. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You know, we're going to kill anyone who's so much as side-eyed you, right? There's a list and everything. No need to stay cooped up in here, everyone in the Bay knows who you are and what the consequences of touching you are."

  I shrug, nibbling on the popcorn. "I like it here. I like painting and watching the sun rise from these windows. I go out with mon Monstre when I need to."

  He nods and then says, "What does that mean? That name you call him? Sounds awful pretty and he's not exactly that kind of guy."

  I giggle, barely containing a snort. Mon Monstre is a handsome man but he definitely isn't pretty. Pretty is soft and feminine. Delicate. He's fierce and brutal and so strong.

  "It means my monster. He might be the monster in the shadows for everyone else in this city but he's mine, and I know he'll keep me safe."

  Roxas nods and shoves another fist of popcorn into his mouth. "That makes more sense. I gotta tell you, he's definitely a fucking monster out there. One that's going to bleed everyone out who ever thought about hurting you."

  That sounds perfect to me. I smile and nod, focussing back on the car chase happening on the screen in front of me. I fall asleep there, tucked up in the cocoon safely and when I wake up again, I find Roxas asleep with his bed against the front door, physically blocking it from anyone attempting to get in.

  He is definitely a good man and a loyal friend.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Illi

  I need to get the job for Tank out of the way so I can get to the Mecedo cartel, so I head up to North California to grab his kid and get her delivered, not expecting much tr
ouble out of this. In and out, it’s a simple pick up.

  Boy, was I fucking wrong.

  I roll up into the tiny coastal town of Monterey, a surfing paradise during summer but it’s a quiet little art haven during the colder months. Not that it ever gets really cold but the tourists stay clear. I stick out like a sore thumb, my leather jacket and biker boots not the regular rags people up here wear but the tattoos and mean look on my face help keep people the fuck away from me.

  I go into a tiny roadside cafe, the type that decorates with a theme so the entire place is covered in surfboard and shark teeth. Sand crunches under my feet, as if the patrons regularly come straight here from the beach and the easygoing vibe is tangible in the air.

  I hate it.

  Gimme the gritty, whiskey-soaked, bloody nights of the Bay anytime.

  I take a booth and the waitress eyes me like I’m on the fucking menu. My lip curls in her direction, a clear fuck-off, but she only adjusts her tits so they try to spill out of her shirt.

  I pull a gun out and sit it on the table as she hands me a menu. That gets her attention.

  “You got a license for that?” Her voice is too high-pitched, too sweet, all fake and fucking disgusting.

  “No, doesn’t mean the bullets won’t kill you if you don’t quit your shit. I want a coffee, black, and I want you to leave me the fuck alone once you’ve brought it over. Button your shirt up and I might even tip you.”

  She huffs and leaves me.

  I prefer the women in the Bay. They only approach me if I wave them over, the whole lot of them trained without me doing a fucking thing to stay the hell away from me. If I’m out, there's a good chance I’m working, so even before Odie I didn’t want them chasing me. Too easy for them to get in the way and catch a stray bullet to the head.

  Pretty fucking handy now that I’ve got my baby girl.

  I sit and drink my coffee, waiting in the booth and watching everyone around me. Tank gave me a description and details of his kid’s daily routine. Not that he knows it from being so close to her, nah he’s much more fucking absent than that.

  He has a couple of his guys watching her.

  Nothing says fatherly love like an MC club stalking you.

  Fuck knows how she even got a boyfriend with them on her tail like that. You’d think Tank would’ve told them to step in, but I guess he doesn’t care about her enough for that shit. He said she picked the wrong guy, not just that there’s a guy to begin with.

  I sit there for over an hour waiting, the waitress getting fucking twitchy about not being able to approach me now I’m taking up a table as the cafe gets busy but finally my patience pays pff.

  I notice her right away.

  A whole tumble of strawberry blonde hair is curling down her back, the waves of it like the wild mane of a summer child. The color is the same as her dad’s, though his is shaved and it’s his beard that shows his coloring.

  She’s wearing the tiniest pair of shorts that show off her long legs and a crop top that has her ink showing where it curls around her back and over her stomach. There’s a leather jacket slung over her shoulders, and the helmet on her arm is the same style that old bikers wear.

  She looks like a biker bitch, through and through.

  I’m going to be lucky to get through this without having eight new bullet holes in my body for my girl to fuss over later.

  She walks in on her own but greets the waitresses like they’re old friends before ducking behind the counter and into the back. When she comes back out she’s changed into one of the little uniforms, an apron tied around her waist and a notepad in her hand.

  From biker bitch to diner waitress in under a minute.

  I hear my waitress telling her about me, and the gun, and Savannah scoffs before stalking over to me, no fucking fear.

  “There a reason you’re walking your ass into my cafe with a 9 mil and a shitty attitude? We don’t like your type around here, maybe you should head on home.”

  I look up and I see her eyes taking every inch of me in but it’s not at all her checking me out. Nope, she’s assessing the situation, looking for more weapons, judging what it’s going to take to get me out of here without any casualties.

  She’s smart. The kind of smart a kid gets from growing up in a shitty situation. I wonder if her mom was decent enough or if she wasn’t around. Tank is a decent enough kind of guy but I don’t know shit about being a dad.

  My own was a fucking lost cause.

  I let myself think about Odie and a baby we could have together for about a half second before I lock that shit down tight.

  I’m not my fucking father and I’ll keep her and my kid safe from this shit. Safe and loved and fed well at all times.

  Fuck, I’ve got to stop thinking about kids.

  “I’m just here for a coffee, no trouble.” I say, holding my hands out like I’m not a threat.

  She doesn’t buy it. “Oh yeah? Why pull out the piece then?”

  I grin at her, laying on the charm to distract her suspicions. “The waitress kept shoving her tits in my face. I’m a family man, I’ve got no interest in banging some server when I have a bombshell waiting back home for me.”

  Her eyes narrow at me, like she’s not at all sure I’m telling the truth. Doesn’t matter, I get up and throw a couple of hundreds on the table. Her eyes follow me out of the diner and I walk out to sit and wait for her in my car. Now I know she’s on shift I can just wait her out. I send a message to Odie, breathing easy when she messages back our safe word, then one that makes me sure she’s safe and happy in our apartment.

  She has a six hour lunchtime shift.

  It’s boring as fuck to wait around but when she finally clocks off I’m ready for her. There’s a rush of people coming out of the diner as she does and it takes a minute to find her through the bodies. I keep my weapons holstered because this isn't my usual turf and I don't need to deal with pigs today.

  I know the minute this girl figures out I’m following her. Instead of taking the direct path to her motorcycle, which I know thanks to Tank's spies, she starts weaving through the crowd, up and down streets to attempt to lose me.

  I'm too good for that shit though I'm oddly proud that she knows how to do it. I've seen too many girls getting grabbed, hurt, and fucking sold lately. It's good to see one that's going to fight back.

  When she finally takes the alleyway to get to a car she's still darting around people and I spot the keys that are in her hand. There’s a bottle of pepper spray on it, fuck’s sake, and the keys are pushed tight between her fingers so she can jab my eyes out if I get close enough.

  Like I said, smart girl.

  Too bad for her I’m smarter, bigger, and made for killing. If I wanted to, I could take her down and kill her in under a minute with no one on the street any wiser.

  Good thing for her I don’t want to.

  When we take the last turn into the parking lot she turns on me, pepper spray can in her hand raised to aim right at my eyes. That shit wouldn't save her but I don't have the patience to deal with that shit today. I grab her wrist and pull her hand down, ducking so the first stream of the fiery liquid doesn't hit my face. She doesn't scream or panic, just shifts straight into a defensive stance.

  I know it's coming so when her foot aims for my dick I trap it with my thighs and take her down with a quick kick to the back of her knee. She scrapes down her arm on the brick wall of the building we're next to as she goes down to her knees but she barely grunts at the sound.

  "I'm not here to hurt you, so knock that shit off so we can talk."

  She doesn't take that advice at all, scrambling back up to her feet and moving to run.

  Fine.

  Guess I gotta be the asshole.

  I shoot forwards and get her around the waist before she has time to bolt, the other hand clamping tight over her mouth as her body struggles against me.

  "I was trying to be nice. You won't like it if I start being a real asshole, so qu
it your shit."

  "Your father sent me."

  We're sitting in my car, her wrists and her ankles cable tied and no chance of her getting away from me now. I get the car back onto the highway and start off, heading down state. I'm meeting some Serpents there to take her back home.

  Her eyes widen. “My dad sent you? Are you fucking kidding me? That old asshole doesn’t give two shits about me but now I’m fucking happy he wants to come ruin shit by sending some thug after me? No. Fuck no. I’m not getting in that car. Colt will find me if you do. I know he will.”

  Fuck me.

  What are the chances it's the Colt I know? Couldn't possibly be, he'd said a girlfriend back home to me and the Chaos Demon charter he's a part of is in Texas, definitely not in Cali.

  “Colt. As in, Colt Graves? Tell me it’s a different Colt.”

  She smirks at me, happy as fuck that I recognize her dumbass boyfriend's name. The poor girl thinks it'll stop this shit from happening. “Yeah, he’s a fucking Graves. You know what type of people they are, right? Not a smart fucking move to kidnap me.”

  Could my day get any fucking worse?

  I take the next exit and pull off into a parking bay. I rub a hand over my eyes and then I hand her back her phone, watching as she clutches awkwardly at it. “Call him and give me the phone. Now.”

  She sighs but it sounds more like she’s trying not to scream at me. “Fine. Whatever, he’s going to tell you the same damn thing.”

  She hands her phone back over to me and it takes a minute to get through to the little shit.

  “Sav, this ain’t a good time—”

  “Yeah, no fucking shit.”

  The line goes dead, not a fucking sound out of him, and then I hear the crunching of gravel under his shoes as he moves away from whoever he’s with. “The fuck are you doing with her? Butcher, if you touch a motherfucking hair on her head—”

  I scoff at him. “Shut it, Graves, I’m not here to hurt her. I’m here to get her the fuck away from you. Her pops isn’t happy about her seeing a Demon. I just didn't think it was you because what are the fucking chances?”