by Brook Wilder
“Yeah, I got it.” I could keep my knife sheathed for Chains.
“He’s an accountant for the Aztecas. If we can get him, the cartel gets no funds for their new agenda.”
“And the war might actually be over,” I finished for him. There were people in the club, in both clubs actually, who wanted the war to be over. We had more couples now than ever and likely a few kids on the way. War wasn’t good for them.
But for me, hell, it kept me busy. If there was no one to fight, then what the hell were the rest of us gonna do?
“Yeah,” Chains exhaled into the phone. “Yeah. Get the accountant, Crankshaft. Bring him to the club. I’ll take care of the rest.”
I ended the call, sliding the phone back into my jeans pocket. I could find the accountant, not a problem.
Keep him alive, now that might be another feat in itself.
I didn’t take prisoners.
I killed them.
Finally, the blonde succeeded in getting the commander off his bar stool, tucking her arm in his as she led him outside, to the planned alley on the other side of the bar. I threw some bills on the table and stood, my boots ringing on the concrete floor as I pushed myself way through the bar and out the door, into the humid evening. Everyone was hoping for rain tonight, as the drought was only getting worse here in Texas. I had to agree; it would be nice for the rain to knock the dust down.
Stepping around the corner, I saw the blonde and her companion near a dumpster, just like I had requested. It was a hell of a lot easier to dispose of a body when it was conveniently near a place to dump it.
Besides, I wasn’t getting any younger.
I unsheathed my knife from my boot, the weight of it a pleasant feeling in my hand as I quietly moved down the alley, sticking to the shadows so he wouldn’t see me coming. She already had his pants down and was working like a champ on his cock, the slurping sounds not hard to miss in in the quiet evening.
I hoped he enjoyed it.
Silently, I walked up behind him, not wasting any time to pull the knife across his neck. There were no sounds, no fight as he jerked against the intrusion.
The blonde backed away and ran down the alleyway. I wasn’t worried about her alerting anyone. I would be long gone before they came back anyway.
Wiping my knife blade on the front of his shirt, I shoved him up and over the lip of the dumpster before tucking my weapon away. It was done.
Another successful kill.
Walking back the way I came, I took the two blocks from the bar to where I had left my bike, wasting no time firing it up and hauling tail out of there. The wind tore at my shirt as I turned the bike toward the highway, heading back to Castillo. I had no shit to pack up, no hotel to check out of.
When I said I was a ghost, I was a ghost.
The lonely stretch of road shined in my headlight and I sat back, ready for the long trek home. Chains would text me the name of the accountant and his last known address. The shitty part was that it would be daylight by the time I got back to town, forcing me to wait until dark before I could break into his house and take him from his warm bed.
I would be quick, in and out, without the worry of trying to find him. It sure as hell wasn’t the first time I had broken into a home. My old man was an asshole, pure and simple, but he had taught me some tricks of the trade that had come in handy over the years.
After all, what twelve year old knew how to hotwire a car, pick a lock, and clean a gun?
Those tools had served me well while working for the Rough Jesters. I had started out like everyone else, a runt looking to belong because he never had anywhere else. I had taken my licks, paid my dues, and when Chains had asked me to be one of his enforcers, I jumped at the chance.
It wasn’t much of a transition, just an upgrade. I had been bloodying my own knuckles since I was in middle school.
Now the club was my life, my family, and if Chains wanted me to go after this accountant, I was gonna do it with a fucking smile on my face.
Especially if it meant screwing over the cartel in the process. I was sick and tired of having them run the show, killing innocent people and stealing women and kids to take over the border. I didn’t kill innocent people. Every fucker I killed had it coming and knew their time was up.
Shifting on the leather seat, I pushed the bike harder, feeling exhaustion creeping into my bones. I would sleep when I got to Castillo for a few hours before doing some recon on the house I was to hit tomorrow night. I doubted an accountant would be any match for a guy like me, but the one who wasn’t prepared was the one who ended up in a body bag.
I had the faded scars to prove that fact, but I was older, smarter, more resourceful than I had been in my twenties. Now that I was pushing thirty-five, I knew I could be out-benched on strength, but wits beat strength any day. It was how I had survived the last ten years as an enforcer, and how I had plotted out the commander’s death earlier. Every move had a consequence and it was important not to be part of that consequence.
I shifted into high gear as I passed by the last gas station for fifty miles, the vibration under my body comforting. This was my element, out here in the middle of fucking nowhere, alone. The rest of the council could shack up and have a dozen brats, but I would be the one left standing at the end of the day.
Someone had to be the sane one out of the group. I tried to believe in their happiness, I really did. I tried to say it was a good thing the Jesters and Hell’s Bitches had joined forces, but the jury was still out on that.
It wasn’t because I hated the women’s club. It was because the shit had hit the fan when Chains and Widow Maker got back together. The war escalated, and things had gotten complicated.
Maybe, after this war with the cartel was finished, it would be time for me to move on.
Chapter 3
Sabrina
I walked down the hall to the kitchen, the sticky-sweet heat making it nearly unbearable to sleep. My father didn’t believe in running the air conditioner until it was well over one hundred outside, which meant most of the time the windows were open at night with the fans on full blast.
Tonight, though, it wasn’t just the heat that had sleep eluding me. I couldn’t stop thinking about my father and what he had gotten himself into. I had done exactly what he asked me to. I told my mom he’d gone on a sudden business trip, that I had been lucky enough to catch him in the early hours before he left.
I didn’t tell her he’d left in the middle of the night or about the SIM card in my phone case. Even now, my phone was tucked in my pajama shorts as I was afraid to leave it unattended.
That, and I was hoping he would call me to let me know he was safe at least.
My feet felt like they were sticking to the linoleum floor as I walked into the kitchen, searching for something to eat. My mom was out with her friends, a ladies’ night out. While she had invited me, I’d declined.
I didn’t feel like going out tonight.
Opening the fridge, I looked at the leftovers from yesterday, knowing there would be a ton more of them in another few days or so. I didn’t know if my father planned on calling my mom, but if he didn’t, she would soon be cooking up a storm worried about him.
Just as I reached in for a covered dish, I heard the click of the backdoor lock, the small sound shattering the silence of the quiet kitchen. Slowly, I straightened, my heart hammering against my rib cage. It had to be my mom. Maybe she had changed her mind.
Or it could be my dad. Maybe he had concluded his business and was back, safe and sound.
Turning, I came eye to eye with a tall man in the doorway, his black clothing blending in with the inky darkness around him. In the dim fridge light, a knife gleamed in his hand and my throat went dry.
Oh my god, I was facing a rapist.
Or a murderer.
Or a burglar.
Whoever he was, he wasn’t good. That knife wasn’t good. I stumbled back into the open fridge, the jars ringing against each other a
s he stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. I wanted to scream out, I wanted to reach for my phone and dial nine-one-one, but I was frozen on the spot, unable to find my voice.
He held up a hand, blessedly not the one with the knife in it. “I’m not looking for you,” he said in a soft voice. “But if you scream, I will be forced to take drastic measures, understand?”
I moved my head up and down jerkily and he sheathed his knife.
“See? I put my knife away. I’m looking for Joaquin Cortez.”
My father. He was looking for my father. This had to do with the SIM card and his mysterious exit out of the house last night. After all, this neighborhood hadn’t suffered a break in for years. I thought about telling him he had the wrong house, but something about him made me think he wouldn’t fall for that trick.
“H-he’s not here,” I forced out.
The intruder’s gaze narrowed, and he dropped his hand. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. I could talk my way out of this. I didn’t want to be a statistic, not now.
I had too much to live for.
He muttered something under his breath and raked his dark hair back on his head. “Show me every fucking room in this house.”
Gulping, I forced myself to step out of the fridge and shut it. The kitchen went dark. Now only the streetlight shone in the living room window. I shivered when I thought about what he could do in this house.
“I-I told you he isn’t here.”
“I want to see it for myself. Now move. Or should I get the knife back out?”
I didn’t want that. Forcing my feet to move, I walked into the living room, well aware of his presence right behind me. I moved to flip on the light, but he grabbed my wrist, his hand hot on my skin.
“Don’t,” he warned. “I can see well enough.”
I shook off his touch, not liking how my pulse ratcheted up another notch, and turned away to walk down the hall, calling out the rooms as we passed them. My fear receded to anger. He thought it was okay to break into my house and take my father from me.
Suddenly I wanted to lash out at this intruder—force him to comply to my wishes and not the other way around. Thoughts spun in my head as we reached the end of the hall to my bedroom, a plan quickly forming in my mind. I could do this. I could do this for my father.
“That’s it,” I forced out, rocking on the balls of my feet. “The last room.”
He grunted as he stuck his head in, giving it a courteously look. “Yours?”
I nodded, trying to ignore how good he smelled, like a walk in the woods on a cool fall day. Why would he smell good? Why was I thinking about how good he smelled?
He was a hostile stranger!
Without giving it another thought, I pushed hard at his back. Words of surprise came streaming from his mouth as he tumbled into my bedroom. I didn’t wait to see the outcome; instead I tore down the hall toward the back door. I could get out. I could save myself.
My hand slipped on the knob before I was slammed against the door.
“I gotta give it to you. I didn’t see that coming,” he said just above my ear, his breath making me shiver uncontrollably.
“Just let me go,” I pleaded, trying to ignore his body pressed up against mine. I hadn’t been this close to a man in, well, forever. “I won’t even call the cops.”
“Tell me where your father is, and I will think about it.”
“I don’t know.”
He pulled me away from the door and spun me around to face him. I still couldn’t see his face, but when he chuckled, I froze. Lord, that sound was making my stomach turn into liquid molten lava.
“Alright then, I believe you… for now.”
“So, you are going to leave?” I asked hopefully as he brushed past me, opening the door. The warm air rushed in and I held my breath. He really was going to leave.
He was going to leave me alone without doing anything that would put me on the eleven o’clock news.
I would survive this.
“After you.”
Confused, I looked at him. “What?”
He gestured toward the open door. “You can either walk out like a normal person or I can carry you out, but either way, you’re going with me.”
Oh God. “I-I swear I won’t say anything! Please don’t do this.” My mom would freak out if she came home to find me missing.
“Come on, darling, make your choice.”
Biting my lip to keep from crying, I slipped on the pair of flip flops, feeling my cell phone dig into my stomach. At least he hadn’t seen that yet. Not only was it my last lifeline, but I couldn’t afford to hand over the card my father had entrusted to me to this… this monster.
It was very frighteningly obvious now that this card was the key to keeping my father alive. I didn’t know how to process that.
Ignoring his deep breath, I walked out of the house and around the corner, hearing him shut the door soundly behind us. Well, at least he was a nice kidnapper, securing the house so my mom wouldn’t come home to a wide-open door.
I started to walk out into the driveway, but his hand clamped down on my arm, pulling me back into the shadows. “This way.”
I thought about fighting his grip as he pulled me through the side gate and into the alley between the rows of houses. I could scream, alert the neighbors, and he would be forced to let me go.
While I was scared to death of what might come of that decision, I didn’t think he would kill me.
Well, not now at least. “Where are we going?”
“My bike is this way.”
I dug my heels into the cement, forcing him to stop. “Oh no. Those things are dangerous. I’m not getting on one.”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right? Do you understand how kidnapping works?”
I shook off his grip, not caring he was in fact here to kidnap me. “I’m not getting on your death trap.”
“My death trap?” he sputtered before reaching out.
I only had a moment to take his genuine shocked annoyance before letting out a gasp as my feet left the cement. I found myself thrown over a solid shoulder, staring at the ground. For a second I forgot to breathe when he started moving in the direction of his motorcycle, the jarring motion forcing him to clench his hold on the back of my legs.
Was I really being carried like a sack of potatoes by a kidnapper? Why the heck wasn’t I screaming?
It was over all too soon. He lowered me to the ground, right next to his bike, the chrome gleaming in the moonlight.
“You are gonna get on and I don’t want to hear anything out of you, got that? I don’t have time for this shit tonight.”
His voice had a sharp edge to it, and I swallowed hard. Maybe I had pushed him too far. He was a dangerous guy, not some random dude from college I could ignore. This was the real world and I really was being taken from my home.
So, I sucked it up and slung my leg over the seat awkwardly, not quite sure what to do. I pictured flying off the thing, becoming a dark stain on the road.
This so wasn’t my kind of thing.
He grunted and did the same, settling in the seat in front of me. That same spicy scent assaulted my senses as he fired up the bike, the rumbling under my legs deeply unsettling. It was like being on top of a washing machine in spin cycle, not that I knew how that felt either.
“Are you gonna hold on?”
His brash words startled me. “Where?”
“What?”
“Where?” I yelled into his ear.
He flinched. “My belt loops,” he said, his voice carrying over the engine. “If you fall off, it will hurt like hell, but I won’t let you get away, so don’t try it.”
I crept my fingers along his waist, trying not to touch him more than necessary as I located his belt loops. I barely got my fingers looped before he took off.
Chapter 4
Harrison
I flew down the road with more
speed than necessary, feeling her grab at my waist before securing her arms around me tightly. My lips split a grin and I eased up on the throttle, dropping back down to a safer speed, but maintaining enough of a clip so that she wouldn’t attempt to jump off.
The last thing I needed was for some cop to pull me over because I was speeding.
I had to admit though, she had thrown me for a loop. I had picked my way into that house thinking I would pull the accountant out of his comfortable bed and speed away before anyone else was the wiser.
