by J Bree
I peer out over to the enforcer for the Silver City Serpents. He’s a long way from home, out here for some shady shit his MC is taking part in with the Boar, which only makes me trust the guy less. I mean, I don’t really trust anyone except D’Ardo and even he is getting pushed off the fucking list these days because his power and inflated self-importance is pissing me the fuck off.
Roxas slides a bundle of fabric across the table to me and when I move to grab it he says, “Look at it once you’re sober. It’ll help you out with the Viper’s job. It can wait until after we’re done drinking you into an early grave anyway.”
Fuck.
Maybe I can count these two as friends too.
The boys drop me back to my warehouse sometime after dawn.
I pass out on the floor in my kitchen and don’t exist again until well after dark. My head is pounding, my mouth tastes like something died in there, and I smell like a trash can that’s been set on fire.
I’m a fucking mess.
I strip down and take a cold shower to wake myself the fuck up, scrubbing my sins away but leaving behind a man who’s rotten to the core. I shave, wincing at my own reflection. I look a hell of a lot older than twenty-four right now. I look fucking forty, shot up to hell and riddled with scars, the puffiness from the hangover only makes it ten times worse.
The shave at least makes me feel human again.
The hair of the dog down the hatch eases the pounding in my head enough that I can focus on fixing myself something to eat without throwing the fuck up all over my eggs. It’s only once I’m sitting and eating that I remember the small bundle Roxas had handed over to me at the bar last night, long before we’d been stupid enough to start a fight with the Serpents. Fuck, I was looking for a way to hurt myself and destroy someone else that if we hadn’t taken on some of Tank’s guys I would have turned all that loathing onto Roxas and Harbin themselves.
They knew it and deflected it fucking perfectly.
I finish my food and go to find the little bundle of fabric, fishing it out of my jeans and carrying it back out to my kitchen counter.
Wrapped inside a raggedly cut square of black fabric is a USB drive.
I grab my computer and boot it up, plugging the drive in and waiting for it to load. While the spinning wheel does its thing I flip the fabric over in my hands.
It’s a Chaos Demon patch.
Well, fuck me.
I wonder who the hell Roxas took out to get this to me? I might owe the guy something stronger than a whiskey and a decent bar fight. The Serpents we’d gotten into with had been down in the Bay sniffing around the Unseen’s business. The fight had been about reminding them of exactly who runs this fucking city and it’s not some fucking hillbilly biker gang from Louisiana.
If you’re not born in the Bay then you don’t really know what it takes to survive here.
That reminds me, I grab my own whiskey and sip at it, just enough to keep the headache from coming back but not enough to get my next binger started.
The screen finally switches over to the files and I set the patch aside for now. I’ll keep it, just in case. You never know when you need to show off some credentials to get into some seedy biker bar in another state. The Chaos Demons are big enough that no one would fucking notice a newly patched in guy with a Cali accent. Fuck, they’d take one look at me and try to convince me to patch over to their branch.
I can’t think of anything fucking worse than joining an MC and answering to some two-bit, drunk Prez with ideas bigger than his fucking needle dick. Nope, that’s just not the life for me. I’d rather be a loner alcoholic stashing money in my walls and carving dead bodies up in my basement.
I take one last sip and then get to looking over the files. Fuck knows what I’m looking at though, just a bunch of times and coordinates. Nothing makes any sense until I start punching them into a separate browser.
Well.
Fuck me, Roxas is fucking good at this shit.
I have before me the pick up and drop off zones for the Demons, all of their movements for the last three fucking years. It doesn’t take a genius to crack the code, to figure out that it’s a rotating roster of places that switches up during winter and the high traffic peaks of summer.
I now know exactly when and where Chance will be.
Problem is I have zero fucking motivation to go find the little biker dickhead. I need the kid alive enough to talk but if he gives me fucking lip right now… nah, I’ll hang him from a hook and drain the blood right out of him, sever him limb from limb, cut his tongue out and sell it off to the local cannibals on the black market.
Actually, that sounds like what I need right now, fuck the Viper and his plans.
First, I’ve got to get my head together.
I head downstairs and spend an hour beating the shit out of a boxing bag. You don’t stay as big and as quick as I am without putting in the work. Guys who slack off get sloppy, that’s not what I’m about.
Once I have my workout done and dusted, another punching bag torn to fucking shreds and leaking sand all over the place, I head back upstairs to get my shit together to head out. I have a few more places to try for my girl before I’ll admit she’s really gone. Roxas and Harbin had said they would help out but there’s only so many places bikers can get their information.
I have some other avenues.
Fuck, if D’Ardo wasn’t such a fucking dick to the other members of the Twelve I could hit up the Coyote. I’m sure that little ferret could find fucking anything. Problem is he’s gone underground after D’Ardo went postal on him over a missing drug shipment. He lives in a fucking bunker and there’s no way in if the little fucker doesn’t let you in.
He fucking despises me.
There’s no way I could get his help now.
Not unless I call the Crow and I doubt that dickhead would even take my calls. All of these problems lead back to D’Ardo but he’s been like a brother to me for too long to get shitty about it.
If I don’t find her tonight, I’ll fucking kidnap the Crow and force him to take me to the Coyote. The smug dick thinks he’s safe in his little concrete palace, I’ve had the plans to get in and out of that place for fucking years. I just never gave them to D’Ardo because he’s a little… impulsive. Unstable.
Fucked in the head.
Doesn’t matter, I’ll side with him any day of the fucking week. The Crow is some fucking suit who walked into the Bay one day and decided to become a crime lord. Nope, not going to give that man respect until he earns it but, instead, he builds a fucking fortress and hides there while he wines and dines senators to do his dirty work for him?
Hard fucking pass.
Again, I know little girls with more guts than him.
Fuck.
I can’t think about the kid without sees her face down at the docks and the feeling of my guts being ripped out as the realization of what I’d fucking done hit me. I don’t know when I suddenly started respecting the kid enough to care what she thinks and yet… and yet here I am, thinking about how much she hates me now and feeling even more like a fucking monster.
I need more whiskey.
Instead, I head out to try and find some more leads.
I find nothing.
She’s really gone.
Chapter Nine
Odie
I have no way of knowing how long I have been here, but I do not want to exist any longer.
If I thought I was broken before, I am shattered to pieces now.
Chapter Ten
Illi
I go to my usual fight on Thursday night at the Dive.
I arrive sober but with the fog of my hangover from my bender still hanging low over my head, so the fight itself is particularly brutal. My opponent doesn’t die of internal bleeding or suffocation like they normally do. No, I rip his throat out with my bare teeth until his blood pours down my face and neck and the entire bar is silent.
Yeah.
Sometimes they need
to be reminded of who I really am.
The Butcher of the motherfucking Bay.
I don’t bother to wipe myself down or clean up in any way, I just step out of the cage and head right for the bar, barking out my order to get the bartender moving. They’re all standing there in shock, struck dumb at the sight of me doing what I do best.
I’m downing my fourth straight bourbon when the Viper settles into the chair next to me.
Not today, dickhead.
I shoot him a look which he ignores entirely, fuck him. He lifts a hand to his man behind the bar and the guy leaves the bottle and a clean glass behind.
He pours the drink himself and clicks his tongue at me like I’m an unruly child. I plan out exactly how I’m going to rip his tongue out of his head. “I didn’t think I’d have to chase you around, Butcher. Where the fuck is my information?”
I tilt my head at him without looking over. “You said you needed it as soon as possible… well, I’m working on it.”
Lie, I hadn’t thought about it since the moment I’d arrived at the airport and fucked my entire fucking life up by thinking with my dick instead of reading the fucking situation properly.
That’s the part that’s killing me. I know better. I know exactly what happens at auctions, why the fuck would she sell herself there? I was led by my dick straight into hell and now she’s probably dead, killed in the worst fucking way.
That lands with me.
“I’ll have the information in next week. Nothing is going to change between now and then in your shitty business. Fuck off and leave me to my victory drink.” I snap and he smirks at me, topping my glass up with a smirk.
“I told you, it’s only a matter of time until I own you. Keep being a sloppy fuck and it’ll be sooner than I thought.”
Own you.
Own.
Own.
That word rings around in my head until I think I’m going to fucking scream. I fucking delivered her to hell while I was too busy thinking about how I could pay for a slice of her ass. The terror in her eyes… I helped fucking put that there.
I’m a fucking monster.
Worse, I’m worse than a monster. I always have been the thing in the dark you should be scared of but fuck… now I’m every little part of the Bay that’s fucked up and that shit doesn’t sit right with me. Not at all.
I turn in my chair slowly, ready to beat the life out of him when the crowd parts and D’Ardo walks through. Predictably, there’s six huge flunkies with him as well.
I try to push the French dream I'd let slip through my fingers out of my mind around D’Ardo. I can’t handle him saying she’s dead by now. I can’t think about it or that she might be a fucking shell of herself.
The Viper gets up from his seat to shake hands with him and they talk about their bullshit business together. I zone them out and work on my drink, needing some inebriation to get me through this fucking night.
There's no one here to blame but myself. I know what happens to women who are traded and sold, growing up in the Bay it's a fact of life, but it's never really bothered me until now.
It's really fucking bothering me now.
Unfortunately, D’Ardo knows me well enough to pick it up a mile away.
"Are you just going to keep on being about as cheerful as a kick in the balls or are we going to carve some meat today?" He says, cheerful and obnoxious. I really struggle to not rip his throat out and have him carried out of here as a corpse and through into an incinerator with the chump from the cage fight.
"Have you got a job for me or not? I don't want to sit around while you lord it over your pathetic kingdom tonight. I’m not in the fucking mood for it.”
His eyes narrow at me. "What the fuck has gotten into you? You've turned into a miserable fuck and no pussy is worth all this. Is Reece back in town or something?"
My blood boils beneath my skin. He's really fucking set on pissing me the fuck off. "How about you shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you. Fuck, I might just carve you a new one, see if you keep your fucking peppy attitude then."
He scoffs and shrugs at me. "You need to get your head back into the game. You need to let it go, hot blondes are a dime a dozen around here.”
The stool next to me slides out and the kid sits down, nodding at the bartender when he drops a whiskey in front of her. D’Ardo’s eyes flare as he watches her take the shot, his lips parting as she shakes herself off a little. Fuck, I forget how fucking sick it is he wants her. She's a fucking kid, living through all of D’Ardo’s sick games.
Fuck it, I wait until she gets busy on her phone with a job and murmur to him, “Who's head needs to be in the game? You moon after her like a fucking lovesick puppy."
He doesn't though. He watches her every move, killing and torturing anyone who dares to look her way for longer than a second. I don't know how the kid has survived, I'd have fucking suffocated by now under the scrutiny.
He ignores me and leans over her. “I thought you said you weren’t coming out tonight, Starbright? I would have picked you up if I’d known you were coming, too.”
Hm. They didn’t come together. That’s out of the ordinary, she never comes without him. Usually, he signs her out of the group home pretending to be a family member.
Fuck. She's still in fucking foster care, she's that young and yet here he is panting after her.
She shrugs. "I got a call for a job. I'm just here for my supplies."
He wraps an arm around her shoulders and she suddenly looks even fucking smaller. "Who has hired you for the night? Johnny-boy and I are going to paint the town red.”
I narrow my eyes at him, nothing I fucking hate more than him treating me like he's my fucking boss and not just a friend. We need to sort this new-found dick attitude of his out and soon. He must be still pissed I knocked him out but, well, he can get the fuck over that and quick.
The kid shrugs. "I'm going to see the Vulture, he has some runaway debts he needs taking care of. It looks like the Butcher is done for the night, I thought I could grab a ride over with him, is that okay?"
She directs the question at me and I frown at her but there's something in her face this time that makes me nod.
"Sure. I’m about ready to call it a night. I’m on a job that needs me clear tomorrow.“
D’Ardo frowns at us both, his eyes seething with his usual dose of jealous insanity. “I’d join you both but I have my own problems to deal with tonight."
The kid nods and pulls away from him, sliding over the bar and grabbing a bag stashed somewhere amongst the bottles. She slips it over her shoulder and walks out, not bothering to check if I’m following her. Gutsy little thing she is. I put my glass down and move to follow her when D’Ardo grabs my arm.
"She's mine. Just so we're clear, don't fucking touch her. No matter how tempting she is."
Tempting? She's a fucking child.
He's all sorts of fucked in the head but I've always known that. I pull my arm free and smirk at him. "I don't take orders from anyone. I'll do whatever the fuck I want, but you're in luck. I don't stick my dick in anything under the age of eighteen because I'm a deranged killer not a fucking pedophile. You might want to get your fucking head checked, brother.”
He smirks. "Mounty pussy doesn't count and we both know it. Stay away from her and we’ll be good.”
That's it, I'm finding somewhere else to fucking drink until he gets over his bullshit and I forget about the bombshell I fucked over.
The car ride is mostly silent, the kid just stares out of the window with a blank face. Eventually it gets under my skin.
"Is there a reason you wanted me to come? Is there some guy you don't think you can handle down here? We both know you've been collecting favors not cash, kid. I'm too fucking expensive for you to pay."
She huffs at me, way more attitude and fire in her now D’Ardo isn't around. Interesting. "I'm not working for the Vulture tonight. Well, I mean, I have done a job for him but it took me like a ha
lf hour before I came down here. We need to go to the auctions tonight."
I give her the side-eye of her life. "And why the fuck would I want to go there? I think we both know that isn’t my kind of scene.”
Just to remind her of what had gone down last week, of my error in judgement and her smacking me in the fucking face with reality. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. Fuck me, I need a drink.
She quirks her head at me with such fucking sass and it occurs to me again that maybe I've underestimated the fuck out of her. "Because there's an auction on tonight. A big one, I've heard that there's a stunning, blonde from France being sold. She’s been beat the hell up but there was so much interest in her last time that they say she’s still going for a pretty penny. I'm willing to back you up if you need it."
My cold, dead, worthless heart stops dead in my chest. "How the fuck do you know this, kid? I’ve been kicking down doors for days.”
She grimaces. "I knew about the guy from the Jackal. I might’ve… pulled some strings to get her back at auction. I offered him something to put her up again.”
I stop the car, veering over off the side of the road and slamming on the brakes, ignoring the sounds of horns blasting around us. “What the fuck did you do, kid?”
She finally turns to face me, looking me over properly and then gives me a wry smile. “Did you know that the Alcatron cartel have been supplying the Jackal with cocaine since the very beginning? No other dealer would buy from him before the Jackal. Did you also know they’re pretty pissed off the drug of choice in the Bay has shifted to ice? I offered to help him get rid of the ice supplier, buy him some time to get his own manufacturing business up and running.”
Well, fuck me. I stare back at her like this is the first fucking time my eyes have even really seen her. “Why would you do that? You fucking hate drugs, I know exactly how you ended up in that group home.”
