by D. M. Burns
“Front door.” He deadpans and points in that general direction.
I slowly stand from my couch position contemplating whether or not to make a run for it, but this man must hear my thoughts. His smile widens and he tucks his hands into his pants pockets. Then he tsk me while moving his head slowly from side to side.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, lovely Lena.” His eyes sparkle out for the first time with a hint of hope. It’s like he warned me out of respect but secretly desires that I opt to defy him.
“Mr. Haze, you shouldn’t be here.” My voice is shaky with my current anxiety levels topping out.
“Well, honestly that’s not really relevant right now, hmmm?” He quirks his eyebrow at me in question. “I’d think that the real issue would stem from the conversation that I just overheard, yeah?” He leans his shoulder into the kitchen door jamb while staring at me with those soulless eyes. It’s haunting to look at. He’s a frightening man.
“Uhm, that was supposed to be a personal conversation.” I stupidly ramble off. His head drops back, and he lets out a hearty laugh.
“Yeah, I guess you wished it had been, huh?” He chuckles.
“Well, obviously, yeah. Can we pretend like it didn’t happen?” I toss my hand out into the air to add a dramatic flair to my request.
“I gotta say just the thought of you sporting a badge and carrying a side piece is producing a very fucking sexy imagine in my head. Something you should be thankful for. Normally, you’d be dead by now.” His voice is very calm. It’s unnerving.
“Huh?” I’m confused. This guy is all over the place. Did he just compliment me and threaten to kill me all in the same sentence?
“The fact that you were an FBI agent wrapped in all that lovely packaging.” He waves his hand out at my body then continues, “It’s a turn on. Does Rampage know?” He quirks a lonesome eyebrow and smiles wide. It’s a beautiful distraction on this twisted man. He should do it often. I shake my head no because I don’t want my career choice to shadow Slade and because it’s the truth. “I’m curious, why were you sent in Miss. Carter? What was your assignment?” His voice is now back to deadly.
“What’s your role in all of this Mr. Haze?” Question for a question it is then. I’m not telling him shit.
“Lena don’t play coy with me. You know exactly who I am and what I do.” He winks.
“And you know I’m not going to tell you a damn thing.” His smile promises otherwise. I hold my head up and glare at this asshole.
“It’s not really worth the argument considering your recent resignation.” He shrugs his shoulders looking unaffected.
“My assignment had nothing to do with you, Crellan. If that’s what you’re worried about, don’t. As a matter of fact, you’re not even on the FBI’s top fifty list. You’re not a threat in their eyes.” I return his wink and his smile is chilling.
I know without a doubt that information fucks with him. A sadistic bastard such as Crellan takes pride in his deadly deeds. He considers himself to be important and feared. Which if I were being honest with him, I’d have told him he was number two right behind his New York Kingpin boss, Kemp Krugger.
Krugger is wanted because of his faceless existence but Crellan is wanted for his mounting body count. Crellan is lethal but smart. That’s why the FBI has yet to obtain any evidence to prosecute him. There is none. Plus, there’s never been one person willing to testify against him. They're either dead or missing.
Don’t ask me why I’m poking the rabid bear of fucking demented evil. Maybe I’m feeling a little raw about his break-in. Or maybe I’m pissed that I won’t be getting yeti dick on the regular anymore. Who the fuck knows? I just want to piss him off.
“You know, you’ve got balls. I like that but know this…”
He steps in my direction and my ass twitches. It’s urging me to dash for the door. I ball my fists up at my sides and Crellan notices. His only response is a half-smirk smile. He stops right in front of me and runs his index finger over my cheek continuing down to the base of my neck.
“I don’t like liars little one and we both know you’re lying. The speed of your pulse is giving you away. Considering your profession, it’s safe to say that you know all about me, Lena. So, you know how dangerous I am, but you need not worry. I’ve got a soft spot for you.” Oh, I bet you do, you big bad gangster.
“If you leave right now, I won’t say a word to Rampage.” He’s right, I’m a liar. That’s the first call I’m making. He chuckles low and shakes his head like that’s the least of his give a shits.
“Oh, I’m going to leave but you’re coming with me, Miss. Carter.” He rifles through his coat pocket only to slide his phone out connecting a call. Putting the device to his ear he says only one word, “Wallace.” Then he disconnects and stuffs his phone back into his coat pocket.
“I need to get my birth control and tampons,” I whisper, and he quirks his eyebrow at me in question.
Most men, even the badass brutal bastards of the world, don’t have a rebuttal for the feminine bullshit requirements that comes along with our special time of the month. Plus, I’m nervous and scared shitless. There’s no telling what I might say. It’s the distraction that I need.
I smile brightly and he breaks out a beaming smile in return. The man really should think about doing that more often. He’s a really pretty kind of crazy. Hell, if you didn’t know his cookie was burnt behind the dome, you could easily be with this guy simply based on his fuckable looks. Those are just facts.
“We wouldn’t want you to forget that, now would we? Go.” His voice sounds amused as he holds his hand out as if to say hurry up.
Moving down the hallway, I dash into my room and look at my closet door thinking about my gun that’s hidden in there. My mind calculates how long it would take me to retrieve it.
“Miss. Carter…” That voice slinks over my skin from behind and I squeeze my eyes tightly. “Your feminine products and birth control, yeah.”
“Right.” My head drops back in defeat and I move for the bathroom. I snag my pills and box of tampons out of the drawer then walk back in the bedroom where Crellan is waiting.
“You didn’t really think I’d make a rookie mistake like that did you?” He reaches behind his back and withdraws my gun from his waistband then waves it at me while shaking his head. I shrug my shoulders as he tucks my 9mm back into the front of his pants.
“Worth a try. I’m going to need that back though.” I arch my eyebrow at him.
“No, you don’t.” He deadpans.
“Uhm, where are we going?” I croak.
He reaches out and grabs my upper arm directing me toward the door but not harshly. At this point, the Irish girl in me wants to fight back but like I said before, I’m well aware of his number two position on the FBI’s most wanted psycho list and fuck that. I like my life.
“You’ll see.”
“You better have some cookie dough ice cream because that’s in my future. I’m just saying. It a moody time of the month and I need the sugar in my life right now.”
“I’ll be sure to make a pit stop just for you.” He winks and picks up my bag that I had yet to unpacked while leading me out of my apartment.
This is so not how I saw my day turning out. I figured it’d end with a binge session of Below Deck followed by a good cry right before I passed out on my couch. Shit.
chapter 27 - rage
Well if this isn’t some god damn bullshit right here, then I don’t know what is. Sitting in my driveway, I stare out of my windshield at were my fucking house used to be. Renegade is silent. He knows right now is not a good time for conversation. Hell, the unfortunate fuck that was in the cage with me last week is still in ICU. My baby girl sent flowers. What can I say? I’m a little raw over my house blowing up.
Right now, all I can think about is how I want to beat the fuck out of Rebel. My god damn Chaos cousins are going to be the death of me. Between the jail time to my fucking house
burning to the ground, I’m beginning to believe that those fuckers are bad luck, period.
Shaking my head, I open my truck door and fold out of my ride with Renegade mimicking my motions on the other side. I tuck my hands into my jean pockets and stare out over my property.
“Fuck,” I growl.
“Damn, brother,” Ren whispers.
“At least the pool house is fully equipped,” He says.
“Yeah. Good thing we built that extra room and kitchen out there,” I say. He shrubs his hand over his face.
Damn, I guess it could’ve been a lot worse. But then again, I don’t like thinking about losing my baby girl. Every god damn body better be fucking glad that didn’t transpire. Had I lost her; my mental mayhem would paint this county in a dark red coat of blood. And by the time I satisfied that deadly fucker within, this place would be nothing more than a ghost town. A good place for Rebel’s demented horrors to play. But ultimately, without Reese, no one would be safe from my satanic side, not even me.
I know you’re wondering why I said I wanted to beat the fuck out of Rebel. Well, that’s pretty fucking simple. All of this is his god damn fault, that’s why. Listen, my cousins aren’t as slick as they think they are, not by a long shot. Their intentions are good for the most part, but they always fall short when covering their tracks. I know every fucking move they make even if they wished otherwise.
Like right now, I know damn well that Rebel’s on a one-man mission to make shit right for our Chaos clan. That little fucker is unstoppable once his little paranormal mind gets focused on retribution. Horrid hauntings are what he’s good at. It’s best to just let him be. The way I see it is, it could be a lot worse. He could be putting those twisted talents to work punching that timecard as a sadistic serial killer instead of a serial seeker.
Renegade’s mission in life is to surround us all in a protective bubble. He needs to feel like he’s in control. His protector instincts have kicked in, and like always, he’s pulling out all the stops to shield us. He’s got everyone at his investigative firm working non-stop to uncover who’s responsible for this shit, but I already know.
Just like I know Rampage is responsible for paying off all the family’s debts. He thinks he’s a slick silent little fashionable gangster, but no. That’s Ramp’s contribution to the family. He’s like a god damn lucky charm of wealth. It follows him everywhere he goes. He sprinkles that shit on the ones he loves. And it makes him feel right with the world to help so who am I to fuck with that.
I’m the alpha male over these little assholes too. I know everything they do. So, as I stand here staring at where my house used to be, I’m feeling a little indifferent. I try to lead by example and for the most part, I think I did alright until shit like this takes place. Where did I go wrong with those motherfuckers?
If it’s not Rampage’s underground dirty debts getting my ass five to ten behind bars, then it’s Rebel out here killing off the god damn crazy community surrounding us. All the while someone is snapping shots of his stupid ass committing the crime. Then Ramp turns around and puts a hit out on that motherfucker. And in the end, my fucking house gets blown up. Not to mention, it almost blew my baby girl across the property line. What the fuck?
Why does all their bullshit come back to bite me in the dick? Granted, Rebel has no idea that his stunt with Jake Sellers has once again reared its ugly head. But that’s exactly where all this stems from. Well, that and Rampage’s sloppy follow-through. I thought mobsters where supposed to be slick.
That fucking dirty FBI agent that tried to extort money from Rampage got exactly what he deserved. But those pictures of Reb standing over Sellers’ dead body is the reason for all this shit, period. Rebel’s heart was in the right place even though his demented deeds were twisted. His demons acted out a deadly scene sending Jake’s ass straight to hell. Audios fucker. Zero shits are given for the loss of Sellers.
Of course, when the asshole rookie FBI agent surfaced threatening to expose our little twisted sidekick the financial fucker in Rampage made way. Sparking a trickle effect. Do these assholes not ever learn? Scrubbing my hands over my face, I slowly make my way around the foundation of leftover burnt bricks where my house used to sit.
I know Rampage paid a shit ton of cash to have that agent offed and those incriminating pictures of Reb brought back to him. But what Ramp didn’t stop to factor in was whether or not that dirty motherfucker had a family himself. An older brother to be exact. And that rookie agent’s older brother just happens to be a well-respected FBI director. That director also loved his kid brother. Son-of-a-bitch. I’m going to kill my cousins.
“So, when are you and Reese going to start rebuilding?” Renegade asks.
“When we know there’s no other possible threat of our roof being blown sky-high again.” I shake my head and eyeball Ren. “Your brothers need to calm the fuck down.”
“Who’s your favorite cousin now, asshole?” Ren wiggles his eyebrows and smiles wide. I flip him off. His smile drops.
“I’ve never liked any of you, fuckers.” He pokes his bottom lip out then flips me off. “Call your office. Tell them you got this under control. I know who did this shit.” I nod my head in the direction of my truck. “Let’s go.”
As he turns around, I stick my leg out in front of his and ram my chest into his back sending him toppling over face first into Reese’s massive rose bushes. Then I continue right past his stupid ass as he whines like the little pussy he truly is.
“You manbun bitch.” I flip him off over my shoulder. “Told you I’d get you back eventually. We’re even now fucker.”
“You son-of-a-bitch, Rage. The fuck you say. Watch your back you, evil asshole.” He sneers.
If he touches me again, I’m going to clip that ponytail off while he’s sleeping then superglue it to his to his dick.
chapter 28 – rampage
“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know where she is?” I growl into my phone as the silence grows louder. “You were supposed to follow her. She left here hours ago.”
“Rampage, I followed Lena to her apartment and that’s all I remember. Man, listen… I’m not sure what the fuck happened. I woke up beside my car, on the fucking ground with a huge gash in my head.” Rance’s voice sounds distraught, and he seems genuinely confused.
“Is her car still there?” I ask as I trudge down the lobby of Aces Down.
“Yeah, man. It’s still here in her parking space. I checked her place out and she’s gone. Shit, I’m sorry man.”
Hell, I cut the call because I’m scared of what I might say next to the guy. By the time that I got out of the shower and calmed down, she had already taken off. Most of the time she wanders around the building going over plan designs or locks herself in her office but not today. Lena packed up and walked out of my bedroom. Out of my penthouse. Out of Aces Down. Out of my life.
As I round the main hall and move for the elevator Rebel’s head pokes out of the steel box catching me off guard. His smug ass smile is hinting at something evil. Immediately, I hold my hand up while shaking my head no.
“I don’t have time for your bullshit right now, Reb,” I growl.
Scrolling through my phone, I find Lena’s number, hit connect, and place the phone to my ear eagerly waiting for her to pick up. I don’t give a fuck what she said this morning. All of that was complete bullshit. Pick up, pretty girl. When the call rolls over to her voice mail, I squeeze my eyes shut and end the call. Fuck.
“Oh, I’ll be willing to bet that you’ll wanna make time for this.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ve got a special surprise for you, brother.” He grabs me by the coat jacket then forcibly jerks me inside. He reaches his beefy handout, punches the button on the panel, and the doors slide shut.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’ve got shit to do.” My voice is strained with aggravation as I try to swipe the wrinkles out of my suit.
“We’re going to the blackout room.” His smile is unsettl
ing. Those demons behind his green panes are dancing around in what I would describe as a satanic ritual of some sort. “Just play along for shits and giggles, yeah?”
I give him a chin lift clearly ignoring his bullshit while dialing Ren’s number. I don’t have time to argue with Reb. I need the other sane brother to help me find Lena. It rolls over to voicemail and I leave a message. “Brother, I got a little problem. Call me when you get this.” Immediately, I end the call only to dial Rage and get the same result. I leave him the same message. Fuck.
“I got you, Ramp. Have a little faith in your little brother, yeah?” Rebel winks at me.
When we step into the blackout room, I gotta say that I was taken back and thrown off guard. I wasn’t prepared for it. Not in a million years did I expect this. Holy fucking shit.
My eyes go wide as they land on one pissed off gangster. Crellan’s mouth is bound shut with a ball gag and both of his arms are secured to each side of his chair with an ungodly amount of duct tape. His forehead is leaking out bright red blood that’s trailing down the side of his face, continuing down his neck, and leaking onto his expensive suit. The evil in his eyes is multiplying by the second.
When Crellan’s blacked-out beams capture me clearing the door, he uses both his legs to raise the seat he’s secured in off the ground only to slam it back down on the floor in a disgruntled act of defiance. Whoooo shit, he’s one pissed-off little motherfucking mobster. I can’t stop the smile that curves the tips of my lips. God damn my little brother is a brutal batshit crazy bastard.
“Mmmmh… Mhhhhmmm… Mhhhhmmmmm.”
Crellan’s muffled sounds are fueled with demonic anger. I don’t have to be a mind reader to know exactly what’s swirling around in that devil’s dungeon. Hell, his soulless eyes promise a drawn-out torturous death. His body thrashes around in a secured angry protest.
“What the fuck, Reb?” I point my index finger at Crellan then look at my baby brother.
If it wasn’t for the fact that this is New York’s most feared Good Fella known for his cruelty with unlimited syndicate ties and torturous blowback, I’d be proud of my baby bro. Rebel crosses his arms over his huge chest while sporting a satisfied smile on his face.
