by Hazel Parker
The pleasure was so intense that I barely even noticed that Jack, too, was starting to approach the point of orgasm. By the time that I came out of my haze, he was already moaning in a higher-pitched voice, and his cock had seemed to swell to twice the size of before.
“Yes, Lilly, yes!” he screamed.
He let out a couple of halting gasps, and then, just like that, he was exploding into his condom, his guttural grunts as deep as I had ever heard them. I turned and looked at him, but his face was contorted into something that defied description—half pleasure, half overwhelmed, all orgasmic. I let him finish into me and rested my head on his pillow, relishing the couple of moments of stillness following the storm that was sex.
“My God,” he said. “Damn, Lilly.”
“You liked that?” I said with a giggle.
“Uh, understatement!”
He then pulled out, letting out some moans as he removed himself. He went to the bathroom, threw out the condom, relieved himself, washed his hands, and then came back and snuggled up on me. My body immediately felt at complete ease and comfort huddling up on him like so.
“Oh, Jack…” I said.
I had something more to say, but the words just eluded me. Strangely enough, I wasn’t as concerned with the exact words as I was with just being present with him. I didn’t need to say anything more; my actions from the prior twenty minutes or so had said everything.
“Lilly…” he said. “Is that going to make one of your books?”
I laughed. That was definitely not expected, but it somehow felt like the exact right joke to make at that moment.
“Nah, my books are risqué, but they don’t usually involve sex like that,” I said. “And besides, even if they did, nothing could match what we just experienced. It was too personal and intimate to ever replicate on the page.”
“I’ll say,” Jack said, kissing me on the cheek.
I think he, too, had more to say, but we both decided that peaceful silence was just the best thing right now. Listening to the gentle breathing, being curled up with him, being naked but at ease…what more could I want?
Nothing.
There was nothing more I could want.
I couldn’t tell you how long we remained silently like this, cuddling, but I could tell you it was long enough that I almost started to wonder if I’d start to nap and fall asleep on him. It wasn’t out of the question. It—
His phone rang.
“Sorry,” Jack said with a playful groan. “You know how it is! Right when the good things start, someone’s gotta call and disrupt things.”
I couldn’t even begin to express how happy it made me that Jack was saying that post-coitus cuddles and chat were the “good things.” Obviously, the sex we’d had blown my mind, but for him to say that this was the good thing…well, I had a feeling I might be changing my mind about him being perfect.
“Looks like it’s Marcel, my brother,” he said. “Should be quick, I promise.”
“No, take it, take it; it’s fine.”
He smiled and answered the phone.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Jack?”
Though Jack had not put his brother on speakerphone, I could still hear the audio clearly without much other noise around me. Marcel sounded…scared. Nervous, even.
“Marcel?” Jack said, suddenly sounding equally worried. “What’s going on?”
A long pause came.
“Something happened, Jack. Something really bad.”
Chapter 11: Biggie
The tone in Marcel’s voice was unlike anything I had ever heard before.
He sounded shaken and beaten. He never, ever sounded this way, even when he had to go to jail and be away from his daughter for years. He was always the face of poise and the sound of tranquility and steadiness.
But as I heard him breathing on the phone, I heard a man that had seen or suffered through something unimaginable. “Something bad” didn’t even begin to describe what I suspected he was feeling.
I stood, naked, from the bed and went into the living room. I didn’t want Lilly to have to hear whatever it was that was going on. I knew it was something with the club, and that only further reinforced my desire to keep her away from the madness. She only knew the good parts of the Savage Saints; perhaps it was best that it remain that way.
I wasn’t going to be able to avoid this conversation, but a part of me certainly wished that I could also duck away from whatever Marcel was about to tell me. A part of me certainly wished that what I had told Lilly was completely, unequivocally true.
“Marcel,” I said, steady. “What happened?”
Marcel gave a very, very long sigh, and when he finally spoke, it was barely audible, the kind of thing where I had to repeat the words in my head a few times before they became coherent. And yet, even with that, I only needed the one hearing to understand what had happened.
“They got Uncle.”
Uncle.
They got him.
They…
“Is he…is he dead, Marcel?”
Marcel didn’t answer.
“Marcel.”
“Just come to the shop, Jack,” he said. “But come alone. And come armed. There’s no one but us here, but I don’t need a second attack to happen on our watch.”
Jesus Christ. The fuck happened?
“OK,” I said, and Marcel didn’t say a word as he hung up.
I went back into the bedroom to grab my clothes. Lilly was sitting up. All of the passion and joy from the moment had vanished in a snap; even she seemed to understand that something very serious and very bad had happened.
“Jack?” she said.
“I have to go,” I said, muttering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave so soon. But…something happened to my uncle.”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
It was a truthful answer, but it was certainly not one that led in the right direction. There was zero chance that Marcel would have placed that call for anything other than the worst of news. I just didn’t want to face up to the idea yet that the worst of that news had happened.
“I heard you say the words ‘is he dead’ out there. Jack, who is that in reference to? Are you OK?”
I was starting to feel myself becoming emotional. I couldn’t be having this conversation here. Not in front of a girl I was starting to fall for really hard. Not right after we’d had sex. Not when I had to put on a strong face at the club for whatever was going down.
“I’ll be all right,” I said. “I just need to go handle some club business.”
“OK,” she said. “You can come back here if you want when it’s done. I don’t care if you don’t finish until two in the morning, Jack. I just want you and your friends to be OK.”
I wanted to say we would be. But if the worst had come to pass…
“I’ll text you and let you know, but don’t wait up for me, OK?” I said. “You’ve got work to do in the morning. I promise I’ll be in touch either tonight or tomorrow. I promise I’ll be OK.”
I went over and gave her a gentle kiss, but my mind wasn’t really into it. It was kind of hard to be after what we’d just suffered through. I didn’t think it was possible, actually, for me to be anything but distraught and fearful about what had just happened to Uncle.
“I’ll see you again. I promise.”
I hated that I even had to say that as if there was the possibility that I wouldn’t see her again. I left without another word, pausing only to grab my shirt in the living room, and then made haste for my motorcycle. I didn’t bother to put my helmet on, speeding through the streets back to the clubhouse.
The first sign that something was amiss was that outside the door, four Savage Saints stood. They didn’t have their guns out and ready, but they weren’t exactly making any effort to hide them, either. It was like they wanted anyone passing by who was thinking about coming close to get the exact opposite idea.
On
ce I parked my bike and walked over, I could see no one was smiling. There was a mixture of anger, hurt, and sadness on their faces. No one acknowledged my presence, but I could see fear entering their eyes when they saw me.
By this point, I had to accept the inevitable; I just naively but willingly held out hope that there was a chance I was wrong.
I walked into the repair shop and saw the lights on. Four more Savage Saints guarded the entrance to the office. No one was saying a word. It was like I had walked into a funeral. I really hoped that that metaphor didn’t turn out to be literal.
I walked into the entrance and saw Marcel and Niner standing over something in the corner—something that looked disturbingly like a body bag. Fitz was sitting at the table in silence, his chin resting on his hand. When he saw me, he stood up and walked over to me slowly.
“I’m sorry, Biggie,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
No one’s saying this if he’s alive. Uncle…
I nodded to Fitz, biting my lip. He moved aside as I headed to Marcel and Niner. Niner patted Marcel on the back, then did the same to me as I walked over to what was certainly a body bag. Marcel saw me, opened his mouth, bowed his head, and then embraced me in a hug. He began to sniffle.
I knew what I was looking at.
Uncle was dead.
The man who had bankrolled the club’s beginning, who had overseen much of our childhood, who was as much a father figure as anyone else in our life, was dead.
“They killed him, Jack,” Marcel said, his voice shaky and on the verge of just becoming full-on blubbering. “They fucking killed him, man. They went right for him…”
I couldn’t think of anything I could do other than hug him back. It was just so much to take in at once. They? The Bloodhounds? Kyle?
They went right for him? What did that mean? Did they kill him here? That didn’t seem likely; there would be more blood. They…
But the questions were less important than what we were going through right now. I bowed my head into Marcel’s shoulder, and the two of us cried.
We cried at the loss of Uncle, the father figure.
We cried at the loss of Uncle, the club bankroller.
We cried at the loss of Uncle, the friend.
We cried so much that we lost track of anyone else in the room. The entirety of the Savage Saints could have entered, or everyone could have left for the night, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Uncle’s death was the kind of thing that just seemed to make the entire world stop. Nothing else mattered; not our safety, not the club, nothing.
We may have said that the club was family, but this was actual family that we had just lost.
At some point, Marcel pulled back from me and went over to the table, leaning forward as if he was going to throw up. Frankly, I probably was going to at some point as well.
“Jack,” Marcel said. His voice was still full of sobs, but it was becoming more steeled, less prone to shakiness. “We tried your way. We tried to be peaceful with our brother. But now, he’s burned that bridge forever. I have no patience for him, and I will have no patience for him ever again. I will not stop until he is six feet under with Uncle. He just killed one of his own; if that doesn’t say he’s our enemy, then nothing will.”
I had no disagreement with anything Marcel said. Kyle had made his choice; I had made mine. He had rejected my actions. It was one thing to strike at club members, but to kill family…
Yes, Uncle could be a giant pain in the ass. Uncle could cause a lot of friction. He had a terrible reluctance and refusal to apologize.
But how the fuck was that grounds for killing him? How the fuck did that justify a decision to take his life?
This had gone from a nuisance and a political battle to a battle of blood. Marcel was right. I wanted to believe my brother could be redeemed, but at this point, it seemed all but certain this was going to end with at least one of the three Stones in our generation dead.
“I am going to call the Savage Saints in Las Vegas and California as soon as I have some self-control and I stop crying,” he said. “And I am going to demand that they come here and end this fight. I am not giving them a choice in the matter. If you have anything to say to Kyle before they come, do it, because once they come, I’m not saying anything to him as a brother. He is my enemy. And he will be treated as such.”
“I understand,” I said. “I agree with everything you’re saying, Marcel.”
“Good,” he said. He turned to me, his eyes red, his cheeks stained. “Talk to Niner if you want to know what happened. It’s too painful for me to recount here.”
With that, he stormed out of the room, presumably to better collect himself before he called our partners out west. Fitz had already left the room at some point. Niner stood far away in the corner, ever the symbol of stoic coldness. Only he had witnessed the loss of some of his brothers in arms before, and only he could maintain the composure needed not to lose his shit here.
“Niner,” I said, nodding to him.
He came forward, his face taut and expressionless.
“I even hesitate to ask this, but I feel like I have to know,” I said. “What happened?”
“I assume you want to know everything?” Niner said.
I nodded. I knew there were going to be parts that I wished I didn’t hear, but at this point, I figured I might as well get everything possible. There was no reason to hide anything from me; it wasn’t like I would suddenly collapse and be unable to function if I heard something too traumatic.
“The Bloodhounds went to Uncle’s apartment and tortured him. For how long, I don’t know, but the body shows signs of serious trauma and torture. After some time, they eventually killed him by what I guess would be blood loss. They tossed his body just outside here a little while ago. Marcel and I found the body at the same time. I would not recommend looking at the body, Biggie. It’s not a pretty sight.”
Shit. Yeah, that’s…
What the fuck, Kyle?
Why?
I knew he acted like a dick, but really? Did it have to come to this?
“Well, thanks for telling me,” I said. “Tough, but I’m glad I know.”
Niner just nodded. Seconds later, Marcel came back in. The tears had faded from his face, and aside from his red eyes, there were no other signs that he had been crying. He had assumed the manner of tough president ready to make difficult decisions.
“I just got off the phone with Richard and Trace,” he said. “They’re flying out tomorrow. We should have the entirety of the Savage Saints at this building by tomorrow evening.”
I was in no mood to smile. But I sure felt like we might just get the justice we needed with this move now.
“Then I guess it’s time to go to war.”
Chapter 12: Lilly
I didn’t hear from Jack all night.
He may have told me not to stay up all night, but unfortunately, that was exactly what happened. I kept wondering if there was something I could have done to make him feel better, something that I could have said that would give him a little bit of peace through the evening. Even if I objectively knew that something as terrible as what he was going through could not be helped tonight, I still beat myself up for it.
By the time the sky started to turn a brighter shade of blue, I knew I wasn’t going to get any work done this Monday. Even if I managed to get some shuteye, I wasn’t going to wake up in a good mood. I wasn’t going to wake up feeling rejuvenated and ready to work. The only thing that was going to make me feel better was to hear from Jack and know that he was doing…
Well, maybe not OK, but at least he was coping.
But that text never came. And when I finally did fall asleep just before seven in the morning, I did so wondering if the text would ever come.
* * *
As soon as I woke up, I rolled over and checked my phone for any messages. I had just one.
Kyle.
Goddamnit, this is the last fucking person I want to talk to right n
ow. Seriously, why him? Why?
“Hey, I know Saturday didn’t go well. I don’t expect you to go on a date with me. I just want to see you and apologize. Can we do coffee this morning?”
He’d actually sent the text early, just a few minutes after I had passed out. It was only about eleven in the morning, so it wasn’t like I had missed his text from days ago. I really didn’t want to respond.
But maybe this would be a good thing. Maybe it would behoove me to take such a quick meeting and clear my mind. Maybe it would let me work.
Probably not, to be honest, but it wasn’t like I was going to get any work done in my current state.
“Sure. Slept in a bit. I’ll be at P.M. Coffee in about thirty. Come by any time then.”
I put my phone down and sighed. I’d check his likely instant reply as soon as I went through my morning routine.
Everything that I did, from brushing my teeth to putting my contacts in, felt like the most sluggish thing that I had ever done in my life. Coffee wouldn’t perk me up; tea wouldn’t perk me up; a good text from either of my parents wouldn’t perk me up. Only one thing was going to get me in gear, and it wasn’t anything that was coming right now.
I knew that his uncle was dead. At the risk of sounding crass, there was just no way that he wasn’t dead. Jack would have said something by now if he wasn’t.
But it also sounded like it was sudden, like he was the victim of a crime or a freak accident. If that had happened, was it somehow connected to the Savage Saints? Did Jack know this was a possibility?
I didn’t want to be that girl who interfered and asked way too many questions, but I also didn’t want just to be sitting on my butt, waiting for Jack to get back to me. I wanted to know how I could help comfort him. But if he didn’t want to…
When I left my apartment and headed for P.M. Coffee, I knew that I was going through the motions. I wasn’t going to accomplish anything of note today. At most, I’d get through one, maybe two chapters of editing. But if I could kill time, maybe I’d go a while without checking my phone, and maybe that would give Jack the chance to reach out to me.
