by Vivian Gray
There’s something truly incredible about him, something that I can feel myself softening to. He’s not a bad man by any means; he’s just caught up in a terrible situation, one my father honestly put him in when he ordered the hit on him a couple of weeks ago.
But what I really anticipate is when he comes to my bed every night. And I mean every single night. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t ask questions or permissions. He is brutal and unforgiving, and he does this kind of tortuous thing where he slaps me or spanks me or leaves me hurting, but in the best way.
It’s some of the best, most intense, most orgasm-inducing sex I’ve ever had in my entire life. He punishes me, but I like it. It’s as if he’s working out all his aggression, all his anger, all whatever shit he has going on, on me in the night. Sometimes it’s intercourse, sometimes it’s just touching, and a few times, it’s exclusively oral.
He doesn’t take the handcuffs off of me though – which, admittedly, is part of the fun. I find I like being restrained, being held back and unable to move, leaving me entirely in his control. He does whatever he wants to me, and I just have to sit back and take it. It’s... really, really hot.
During the daytime, our conversations continue. One day, as I’m telling him about more of the shit Dad has pulled on me, he surprisingly relates it to his own life, telling me about his father.
“Yeah,” he explains, “my dad was a pretty rough character. Beat the shit out of me when I was a kid.”
“Were you an only child?”
He nods. “Yeah. I was the mistake my mom made. She got knocked up shortly after they got married, and it was all because my mom forgot to take her pill or some shit like that. And she never let me forget it, never forgave me for it, like it was somehow my fault. And my father was a drinker – not really a drunk because he never got so bad he pissed himself or threw up all over himself or anything like that. He just got mean. Mean and scary.
“Like, when you’re a six-year-old kid, you’re not expecting your dad to come barging into your room, throw over a bookcase, and beat the living shit out of you. That’s what my life was like – from the time I was a little kid until the time I finally moved out when I was seventeen. By then, I had been working for a couple of years and saved up enough for a bike. I started riding with the Blood Ravens, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Sounds like your dad was a bit of a bastard,” I reassure him.
“A bit?” he asks jokingly, cracking a half smile. Then, turning serious, he continues, “I kind of felt bad for my mom, leaving her with that maniac, but she wasn’t exactly the motherly type. They never anticipated on having kids, never wanted them, and they sure as hell didn’t want me. I wasn’t a star student or anything, I was okay at sports, but I didn’t like the organization and all the rules and shit. I wanted to be out doing my own thing.
“So I did. I started hanging around Blood Ravens HQ when a friend pointed out where it was. I did little shit for them like tuning up their bikes and hosing down the floor when everybody left for the night. It took, like, almost two years, but they eventually welcomed me into the club. Best day of my life.”
He sounds just a hair shy of nostalgic when he talks about his motorcycle club. The Blood Ravens are clearly something that he cherishes.
“Well, my dad has never beaten me – nothing like that,” I tell him. “But he’s been absent most of my life, always concerned with his business, his business, his business. My mami used to go to church to pray for him – that he’d give up his life of crime or at least cut back for the good of his family – but it never seemed like he cared about anything else but the stupid fucking business. And when Mami died, I guess he just stopped caring about Carmen and me, except in terms of what we could give him. So Carmen became his legacy.”
“I remember,” he says wistfully, a vague touch of emotion in his voice. “She told me about it once. Said she couldn’t believe her father wanted her to take on the business. She didn’t want it. We talked about running away together, you know.”
“I didn’t know that,” I say, a little shocked – but only a little, given that Carmen did the same thing with her now husband.
“It was only idle talk.” He shrugs. “We were young. We were immeasurably stupid. I know I was, anyway, to get involved with a girl like that.” Then, he looks at me, as if realizing who I am for the first time. “I’m sorry. I know she’s your sister. I shouldn’t talk about her that way.”
“No, it’s totally fine. She’s a bit of a cunt for doing that to you.”
He laughs a little bit at my phrasing. “Yeah... Yeah, she is.”
“Blade,” I say, hesitating a little bit, “I feel like I need to tell you more about my father. He’s... he’s not a good guy. Not like you.”
“I know that,” Blade says curtly.
“No, I mean...” I pause, wondering if I should continue with my train of thought. Finally, after what seems like an eternity to me, I decide to push on. “Blade, I know stuff. About my father’s cartel. Stuff that could help the Blood Ravens.”
“Like what?” He raises an eyebrow. “Stuff we already know?”
“I know where his stash houses are. I know where he keeps his guns and the drugs they’re bringing in. I know suppliers’ names and faces. And... and I know what his ultimate plans are.”
“What do you mean, his ‘ultimate plans’?” Blade asks, now rapt in attention.
“Well, I wasn’t sure about it at first,” I begin explaining, “and even though you told me you were attacked by his guys, it didn’t really hit me until yesterday, when I was thinking about it. But I’ve realized that I’m pretty sure the attack on you was no accident.”
He guffaws at this, a big, burly laugh that echoes throughout the room. “Come on, Maria,” he says, grinning, “you think I hadn’t figured that much out? Of course it wasn’t by accident that they found me. They were probably stalking me. They were coming after our territory. That’s why you’re here, after all.”
“I don’t think so,” I insist. “Blade, where were you when you were attacked?”
“By 16th and Main. Why? Does that mean something to you?”
“I don’t suppose you were collecting on a debt, were you?”
“As a matter of fact, I was,” he says, looking at me with suspicion and caution. “Now how in the blue hell could you possibly know that?”
“I told you; my dad told me things. He was grooming me to take over a business I have no interest in taking over. Now tell me: who was the guy you were collecting from?”
“What makes you think it was a guy?”
“It’s always a guy,” I reply sardonically, frowning slightly.
He snorts a laugh at that. “Yeah, I suppose it almost always is. Well yeah, it was a guy. But Maria, I’m not telling you his name.”
“Why not?” I demand.
“Because you’re still an Espinoza, and I’m still holding you as my fucking prisoner. You get me?”
He becomes visibly angry, shaking in a bit of rage towards me. I haven’t seen this anger since the first day of my captivity. It’s still shocking – and just a little hot.
I take a deep breath before continuing, “I know stuff, Blade,” I say in a low, serious voice, “and I’m going to prove it to you. The guy you were collecting a debt from was Brett Finfer, a small-time dealer who specializes in weed, coke, and ecstasy. I know him because he has been to my house. He has been on my dad’s roster for a long time. And I know that the day you were stabbed – the day you picked me up – my dad had three guys in our house who he instructed to ‘Get that son of a bitch.’ I didn’t know then that it was you; I had no idea he was even after the Blood Ravens. But I have a good idea why.”
“Son of a bitch,” Blade echoes me. “Why then? What possible reason would he have for coming after me? What did I ever do to him?”
“That’s just it, Blade. You didn’t do anything to him. Neither did the Blood Ravens. The truth is, you’re just in th
e way. He wants to expand the Espinoza empire. That’s what he keeps telling me whenever he starts in on me about taking over the business. He wants to be the sole and only distributor in the entire area. And the Blood Ravens are a threat to that.”
“But what the fuck did we ever do to him?” Blade demands, again flying into a rage. “We were content to live and let live, and leave the Espinozas the fuck alone! The last thing we wanted was all-out war with those sons of bitches. All we want is to keep our own fucking territory. Why all of a sudden? Why come after us now?”
“I think...” I hesitate again because now we’re out of the realm of what I know and into the universe of speculation. But I have to tell him. This is too important not to tell him. “I think you have a mole on the inside of your organization,” I tell him flatly, trying my best not to enrage him further.
It doesn’t work.
“WHAT?!” he screams. “Jesus fucking Christ, Maria, that is a dangerous fucking accusation. You had better have something to back that assertion up, or I’m gonna be pretty goddamn pissed about what you’re implying.”
“What I’m implying?” I shoot back.
“You’re saying that one of my brothers in arms, one of my family, is a traitor,” he seethes. “That’s what you’re saying. That is one hell of an accusation to make against people who have been there for me since I was sixteen years old and have been more of a family to me than anyone I’ve ever known, including my own shitty family.”
“I recognize that,” I say with caution, trying not to inflame the situation any further. “And I don’t know that I’m one hundred percent right. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? How else would my father have known where you were going to be, when you were going to be there, and who you were going to see? I’ve already shown you that I know Brett Finfer. I know stuff, Blade. This isn’t just me idly speculating that maybe my dad has an informant. This is how he fucking works. And I just...” I find myself choking up a bit, and that’s when the truth finally hits me square in the face. “... I just don’t want to see anything happen to you.”
That truth – that I don’t want anything to happen to Blade – is coupled with another, deeper seated truth: I’m falling for him. I don’t want to say anything to him about it, at least not now, because he’s been holding me in captivity for two weeks. But there’s something between us, I can feel it. And I know, looking into those big brown eyes of his, that he feels it, too.
“Look,” he says, clearly perturbed by the conversation – and by what I’ve told him. “I gotta... I gotta go. I gotta talk with Crusher about this. See what he wants to do with your... information.”
“You’re going to tell him about what I said?” I ask, a little nervous. “All of it?” I add with a gulp.
“All of it,” he replies simply. “If you’re lying, or if you’re being even a little untruthful, you’re in a deep pile of shit, Maria.” Then, his face softens a bit. “But if what you’re telling me turns out to be true, you may have just saved the Blood Ravens. And that will not go unrewarded. If it’s true.”
“I understand,” I tell him.
He leaves, and I sit there, thinking about the conversation. I know I’m right, I just know I am. Dad always says I have a nose for the business and for sussing out situations. Well, this situation seems right to me. I know now that, having provided this information to Blade, I can’t go home again. That avenue has closed to me now. I wonder if Dad is even bothering to look for me.
A few hours later, I awake from a nap with a start. It felt for a moment like there was somebody in my room, someone creeping around, someone standing over me. It was like a shadow, though, so it was probably just a dream. I drag my arms back to stretch awake, and that’s when I realize something that throws me for a loop: my arms are free. Blade has removed the handcuffs, and I’m free.
The first thing I do is stand up and go to the door. It’s still locked. That was expected. I look around the floor for my clothes, but those are gone, too. I wonder if he just picked them up, or if he actually took them and washed them. I take a whiff of myself, and I realize I smell pretty ripe. I could use a shower.
I wonder if he’ll let me take one when he gets back. Or maybe he likes keeping me smelly – maybe that’s part of his kink, part of this captivity thing. Whatever the case, I think his releasing me from the restraints means that what I told him was accepted by the MC. Now all I have to do is wait for him to get back.
Once he does, I get the feeling we’re going to have a wild, wild fucking night.
Chapter 3
Blade
I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me. A couple of weeks ago, I was just your average guy in an MC, working towards advancing in the ranks. Then, a few guys from a rival gang jump me, and all of a sudden, I’m the babysitter for a cartel princess – the sister of my ex. Only thing is, it turns out that the sister is far and away the better girl, the better informant, and the better lover. All three rolled into one. I can’t explain it. But there’s something about her that I have begun to trust.
Of course, I can’t let her know that. The last thing I want to do is to let Maria Espinoza know that she’s beginning to grow on me, beginning to mean something to me. Maybe opening up to her yesterday was a mistake. Most of me thinks it was. I mean, what was I thinking, letting myself open up like a little wuss? That’s not what we do. I don’t unburden myself to bitches, least of all a cartel princess with a bit of a mouth on her. Not my style.
But there’s another part of me, small though it may be, that has me thinking that maybe what I did wasn’t so wrong. In fact, this same part of me thinks what I did was very, very right. I enjoy talking to Maria – more than I ever did to Carmen. And she’s provided some very valuable intel.
When I go to bring the information she’s given me to Crusher at HQ, he’s not there. Probably out on his own assignment. He does that from time to time. So instead, I head home, only to find Maria asleep in her bed, napping in the middle of the day. I don’t wake her. Instead, I find the set of handcuff keys in my pocket and gently undo her restraints from behind the bed.
For some reason, I feel like I can trust her, and besides, I’m locking the door behind me. Unless I’m sorely mistaken, she won’t be even trying to escape. If what she’s told me is even remotely true, there’s not really much of a chance she can ever go home again anyway.
That evening, I go downstairs to talk again before my regularly scheduled meeting at HQ. She greets me with a big smile, completely unself-conscious now in her nudity. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” I answer stupidly.
“Thanks for taking the cuffs off. You wouldn’t believe how uncomfortable those things are after a while. I take it things went well at your headquarters?”
“Nothing has happened yet,” I tell her. I don’t want to go into too much detail; just in case she is still plotting something for her father, I want to be ready.
“Well, have you guys been keeping your eyes on my dad’s cartel?”
“You know I can’t tell you that. Come on, Maria. Don’t ask me questions like that, okay?”
“O-okay,” she stammers a little bit.
I give her a plate of food, something I’d just whipped up: a cheeseburger with chips. She murmurs a “Thanks” and picks up the food with her own hands for the first time in ages.
“I have to go,” I tell her. “I’ve got a meeting. Do you – do you need some help with that?” I ask sardonically, noting that she seems to be having trouble holding the burger upright.
She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. Just lost that muscle memory, I guess. You’ve been feeding me every meal for two weeks now.” She sounds almost nostalgic as she says so, making me wonder if she secretly had been enjoying our little food sessions.
“Well, anyway,” I say.
“Anyway,” she answers me back.
Part of me knows what comes next, but I’m still unprepared for it when it does. She comes across the room to whe
re I’m standing, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses my cheek. It’s a sweet gesture, one that I would never have expected her to do in a million years a couple of weeks ago – yet it feels right. It feels like we’ve been doing this kind of thing, playing house, forever.
That cements it for me. I’m not thinking clearly about this girl. I have to go to Crusher with the information she’s given me. And he needs to make the decision – because I just can’t.
“OKAY, YOU’RE GOING to have to slow down there, Blade,” Crusher says to me. I’ve just brought up what Maria told me, wondering aloud what we should do about it. Crusher remains unconvinced, at least at this point. “Let’s start at the top. What did the bitch say about her father?”
“Boss,” I say patiently, “this is bigger than her father. This could involve one of our own.”
“I get that, but I want to go over all your ‘evidence’ again. I need to hear the whole story a second time.”
I nod and begin going over what Maria told me with him again. “Okay,” I start off, “so, the guy we were collecting from – that I was collecting from – a couple of weeks ago. Brett whatever the fuck his name is.”
“Yeah, I remember. The day you got stabbed.”
“Exactly. So, Maria says she remembers him from seeing him at her house – her dad’s house – as a dealer. Says he’s been a part of the Espinoza organization for a long time.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Crusher says thoughtfully. “But then, why was he coming to us looking for a loan?”
“I think that was part of the setup,” I explain. “See, that same day, there were apparently a group of guys who came by the Espinoza house, right? And Maria distinctly remembers hearing Juan tell them to jump me – the exact words she used were ‘Get that son of a bitch.’”
