Retaliate Page 8

  I recognize sin when I look it in the eye. I’m drawn to it, and I’m drawn to Alessandra like a reaper is to an angel. I want to drag her into my world and tear her apart. I hate that I’m like that, but it’s what I was raised to do. Destroy, kill, and take no mercy. There is no light in my life, but looking at Alessandra I can see that may be the closest thing I’ll ever get to it.

  Digging in my pocket, I pull out that joint I rolled earlier and light it. The green herb filling my lungs, and relaxing my racing thoughts instantly.

  Alessandra’s foot slides up her leg, scratching her bare calf and my dick jumps to attention as if I didn’t just get sucked off moments ago. She’s awake. My eyes fall on a scar on her lower back, I can’t tell what is it. An X maybe.

  “Where’d you get the scar?” I ask.

  Her shoulders rise.

  “First bike ride,” she mumbles sleepily. Narrowing my eyes, I find it hard to believe falling off a bike makes that kind of scar. It’s so exact and deep. It lures me into her world wanting to know more.

  Pulling the blunt away from my mouth I eye the burning cherry, blowing smoke into the dark air.

  “What’s your dad’s name? Give me details,” I question with a husky voice. Seconds pass before she rolls over and hits me with those beautiful lost eyes. Her nipples are hard, poking through my shirt. I’ve seen a lot of posers wear our gear before, but fuck if Alessandra doesn’t pull it off perfectly. Biting my lip, I have to restrain myself from thinking about her grinding on my lap wearing nothing but that shirt. Music from Machete’s room can be heard, “Tainted Love” by Marilyn Manson is not helping my sexual need right now.

  “His name was Officer Brock Lucas, he was thirty-eight years old when he was killed on the job. They said he was shot before the suspect took his own life. His partner, Officer Kelly, lost it to PTSD and retired. I have no idea where he is, but he reached out recently giving me a dog in the blood line of the department.”

  Taking another hit, I eye her through the smoke rolling from my blunt.

  “And you think there’s more to his death why, princess?” I taunt. His demise seems legit to me. Why is she digging up old graves? Boredom? Is she trying to sue the department for money? Wouldn’t surprise me, by the looks of her she seems like an uppity bitch.

  Her brows furrow, her lip curling with anger. Seems I struck a nerve. She tosses the blankets off her and slides off the mattress. Her long, tanned silky legs catch my attention first. I have a thing for a woman with long tanned legs, it’s what attracts me first. Black lace panties play peekaboo with my ripped up shirt and I have to contain the feral growl wanting to escape my mouth.

  Taking me by surprise she straddles my lap, plucking the joint from my fingertips she wraps her plush pink lips around the end and inhales a breath so big the joint lights up the small space between us. Her eyes never leave mine, and my heart pounds in my chest. My hands having a mind of their own I can’t help but touch the sides of her thighs. God, they’re so fucking soft and smooth. She’s a vixen hiding behind a toxic badge. She exhales, the smoke dancing upward into the sky and painting the perfect picture, the perfect woman. Dark tangled hair, brown lost eyes, and she’s wearing nothing but my shirt as she straddles my lap in black lace panties. She’s the good girl gone bad. My kryptonite.

  Her brown hair falls in her face, her lips parting as smoke rolls out of her mouth drifting around her like the devil just granted me a wish in return for my soul.

  I grip her by the shirt, the sides of her tits showing from the sleeves being ripped off my shirt and pull her close. She’s temptation with a price, one I want so fucking badly. She seems unfazed by my aggressive pull as she places the blunt between my lips.

  “You know nothing about me,” she replies smoothly before sliding off my lap. Making sure to rock against my length before breaking contact fully. “We had a deal, just fucking hold your end up, yeah?” she sasses before climbing back into my bed.

  Holy fuck. Placing the blunt back between my lips I inhale a large breath. Watching the bitch that is wearing my shirt, and sleeping in my bed. Pretending to be the good guy when I know for a fact, she’s a badass bitch.

  I’ve just met my match.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Alessandra

  “Brown 5, you will train harder, fight harder do you understand?” The man scolds as a jet of cold water pelts against my back. Blood and dirt slip off my raw skin and into a rusty drain as I cling to the wall, crying as the pins and needles of the showerhead spray into me merciless.

  “I tried!” I wail.

  “No, you didn’t. You showed mercy and backed down, and that kindness will be smothered from you, or I will tear it from you!” he threatens, pounding the water in my face. I gasp, trying to turn my head every which way, my hair matting to my face, I lose where I’m positioned and slip and fall onto the hard tiled floor. My body biting into the cool hardness.

  “Stop!” I scream, waking up to the smell of coffee and leather.

  It takes me a second to remember where I am as I come to. Then it all replays like a bad movie. My mouth is dry and tastes of bad weed as I climb out of bed and go into the bathroom. I grab the tube of toothpaste off the counter and dab some on my finger and slide it across my teeth, using the pad of my finger as a pretend toothbrush.

  I toss the shirt on the unmade bed and dress in the clothes I had on yesterday before stepping out of the room. Machete and his gun aren’t standing guard, thank God, so I head into the main area. I smell coffee and hear babies crying. It looks tamer today than what I remember seeing last night.

  “Good morning!” Jillian beams from the bar, a cup of coffee sitting in front of her as she soothes a baby in her lap. I look around the club curious how everyone is accepting her being in here but nobody seems to be bothered by it. They are on their phones or watching TV.

  A woman with dark long hair is wearing a sling with Layken in her hold. She’s more dressed than some of the girls I saw around here last night. An ol’ lady perhaps? She’s wearing a red flannel shirt tied in the front and dark jeans claiming her thick thighs.

  “Want some coffee?” the lady asks, and I realize I’ve been staring longer than acceptable.

  “No thank you. I’ll grab a cup at the station,” I inform softly. A tight-lipped smile spreads across her aged face and she begins to wipe the counter. I look around again, curious where the girls were from last night that gave me a hard time.

  “Where is everyone?” I ask curiously.

  “By everyone do you mean the guys or the woman’s nose you broke last night?” the woman asks with a snarky tone. My eyes widen, and I suck in a tight breath as Jillian hits me with a surprised look. The lady hits me with warm eyes, a smile pulling at her wrinkled lips. “I’m Carola, I take care of the boys, and I say boys because that’s exactly what they are,” she smirks, her Italian accent thick. “The skanks that prance around here won’t be around during the day out of respect for the ol’ ladies,” she informs me.

  “You broke someone’s nose?” Jillian finally asks, and I shrug sheepishly.

  “Dolly’s to be exact,” Carola clarifies.

  Jillian looks to Carola and they begin to laugh in unison as if they are good friends. Feeling out of place, and needing a change of clothes I rub my hand up and down my arms.

  “I should be going, I work today,” I inform Jillian.

  “Oh,” she seems displeased. “Well, I can have someone escort you—”

  “Not necessary. I’ll be fine,” I interject, needing some space from all of this. She gives me a scolding look, and I sigh heavily. Jillian has really taken to the club, and I’m happy for her but I’m not a club member and feel very out of place here.

  “Look honey, you think Zeek protects everyone? That he sends one of his guys to babysit a cop that isn’t even one of his member’s ol’ lady? Because he doesn’t.” She shakes her head, her thick brows narrowed with disappointment. “You must have done something to earn that respect
, now accept it and stop being a bitch,” she snaps, and my chest rises with anger.

  “That’s just the thing, I haven’t done anything to deserve it,” I retort.

  “You’re my family and that is good enough,” Jillian states with hard eyes. Carola points a sharp finger at her.

  “There ya go. Family is the biggest bond, and that is something Zeek is trying to pound into his men’s code,” Carola adds.

  Biting my lip nervously, I take in what she’s said. I know Zeek is trying to strengthen the brotherhood of his club since he’s taken over fully, and I think that’s a great thing. However, he’s still a criminal and unpredictable. He is the wolf and the fucking leader of the pack. Jillian may trust him, but I don’t.

  “After work, I will grab some clothes, and check on my mom and be back here,” I reply curtly. “I’ll make sure Raven or someone is with me if it makes you happy to know that I’m not alone,” I continue.

  “It does actually,” Jillian replies over the rim of her coffee cup. “I don’t need one of your boyfriend’s men to tail me,” I add, and Jillian scoffs. She’s changed, she used to be nothing but a feeble, follow the rules, sheriff. She is darker now, more courage than what is good for her.

  Carola pulls a gun out and slides it across the bar, my gun to be exact.

  “How’d you get this?” I ask grabbing it.

  “Felix said you’d need it,” she shrugs.

  “I knew I should have brought my flash-bang gun,” I mutter. The element of surprise would have had them by the balls.

  “You have one of those?” Jillian asks with excitement.

  “You don’t?” I ask with surprise. Jillian has everything when it comes to carrying a weapon, so I thought.

  “A what?” Carola snaps, a look of confusion on her face.

  “It’s a bra you wear that holsters a gun. You go to flash a guy and bam!” I use my finger and thumb to imitate a gun going off, winking in the process. I’ve never got to use mine, and am itching to.

  “Well I’ll be,” Carola mumbles in amazement. “I guess it’s better than hiding it in your hooch.” She shrugs, and Jillian eyes her with wide eyes. The girls that run around here, it wouldn’t surprise me what comes out of their hooch. “Anyway, one of the men will collect your mom tonight,” she informs casually, and my eyes widen. This is news to me, and surely a fucking mistake.

  “Here? They’re bringing her here?” I point to the floor, my eyes wide as saucers.

  “Yeah, I could use some help now that I’m helping Jillian, she’ll be safe,” Carola informs. My eyes fall to Jillian, my mouth wide.

  “Was this your idea?”

  Jillian shrugs, patting Samuel’s back.

  “I think it’s a really good idea. Your mom will love it.”

  “My mom is not well, you know that. She will have no idea where she is.” My voice comes off more serious than I intend.

  “Then there’s no problem,” Carola clips. I roll my eyes, sliding my gun into my waistband. Unbelievable. Is everyone around here so pushy and controlling?

  “See ya tonight,” Jillian show-tunes.

  “Whatever,” I huff. I’ve lost my best friend to the outlaws. It’s official.

  Felix

  Pulling up to the Lost Bastards’ club we keep the engines running on our motorcycles. Two men are standing outside smoking a cigarette, eyeing us like they’re confused. Probably prospects, out of the loop of club business and who their enemy is right about now. The building is made up of worn stucco, and the front door is wide open. A cheap black vinyl banner hangs above the front door displaying the club colors proudly. Glancing at Zeek, I give him the nod, portraying let’s do this. Opening my cut, I pull out my AK 47 and like the rest of the boys, we return the decorating favor and spray bullets into their building.

  The two men drop to the ground, crawling to cover as we relentlessly empty our clips.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Someone waves a blue bandana from a broken window in an attempt to surrender. I can’t help but laugh, what do they think this is? The wild west?

  Zeek holds his hand up, halting us from replacing our clips and continuing lighting their ass up. Hands up in the air, no other than Apollo walks out of the front door idiotically unarmed. He’s much older than any of our guys. White hair peeks out from under his bandana wrapped around his head that is stained with sweat. Deep wrinkles frame his eye, and mouth, and his white beard gives Santa a run for his game.

  “You got three seconds to explain why you attacked my club before I pump a bullet in your skull,” Zeek threatens.

  “Look man, it wasn’t personal it was just business,” Apollo states, like that makes up for everything.

  “Waking my men up with a drive-by is about as fucking personal as it gets.” Zeek tilts his head to the side, his tone edging on irritated.

  “Not to mention your weak ass intimidation tactics of spooking his ol’ lady,” I counter, it had to be one of them who drove by Jillian and Zeek’s house.

  “Whoa, that wasn’t us.” He points at me. “I admit, we initiated war with the drive-by, but we didn’t stalk down no one’s ol’ lady,” he snorts.

  Aiming my gun, finger heavy on the trigger I smirk. “Well, welcome to war with the Outlaws, bitch,” I sneer, and lay into the trigger. Zeek and the rest of the men follow suit, firing their weapons. Bodies drop to the ground like flies, the smell of gunpowder and blood thick in the air. Return fire nearly misses us as the Bastards shoot over their shoulder as they run for their life. After the area is cleared of either men who took cover or are dead, we lower our guns.

  Coughing up blood Apollo lies on the ground holding his side that is obviously wounded. None of his men running to his aid tells me how much of a club this bullshit MC really is. Turning my bike off, I put it on the kickstand and walk over to Apollo, Zeek in tow.

  Placing my weapon in my holster, I pull out my buck knife and kneel down.

  “This is our retaliation, it won’t be easy, it won’t be fair, and it won’t be quick.” I place the blade to his neck and his eyes widen.

  “Please, let’s make a deal,” he begs, tears filling his eyes. His hands flinging everywhere to keep me away. Machete grabs his arms and pins them down like something in WWE.

  “We only make deals with clubs we recognize, and your bullshit fly by night Boy Scout group is not one,” I clip. He wants to play the sinner, but can’t handle the monsters that linger in the same hell. He’s a fucking poser, who is about to give this city a wake-up call. We are the alpha club, we own this city and have earned it through blood and respect. We will continue to do that, no matter how deep we dig our graves.

  “You have someone much higher than you wanting you wiped from Las Vegas, and when that deed is accomplished, I’ll meet you in hell,” he coughs before spitting blood in my face. Aw, the anger stage when the victim finally realizes he’s not talking his way out.

  “Save me a seat,” I sneer, fisting my knife.

  “Do it,” Zeek orders the kill.

  I slide the blade across his neck before impaling it in his throat and twisting it, his body goes three shades lighter instantly as his life drains on the desert floor. I feel nothing as I take his life. My heart doesn’t skip a beat, and my conscious doesn’t come to the surface. This is what I was raised to do, protect my club, my president. I’ve lost count of the souls I’ve taken to make my club what it is today. I’ve accepted my darkness and the monster that I’ve been claimed to be.

  Machete howls like a fucking wolf as Apollo pales, his eyes going still.

  A couple of motorcycles roar to life grabbing our attention, and jets off into the desert. Machete and Gatz fire their guns in the direction of the running cowards, but they don’t hit their target.

  “Want me to go after them?” I ask.

  Zeek shakes his head. “No, let the word get out that we’re not going anywhere.”

  Alessandra

  “We got a 425, caller wasn’t sure what she saw, could have
been a 413.” The dispatch displays. Raven gives me an awkward eye, obviously not sure what the hell the codes mean.

  “Possible gun, the witness isn’t sure what she heard.”

  “731, on our way.”

  “Copy that.”

  I head toward the outskirts of town. The location on the MDT indicating that the situation is almost out of my jurisdiction. If Jillian were still on the job, she’d race me to it.

  “You okay? You look tired,” Raven observes.

  “Slept at a… friend’s place and didn’t sleep well,” I mutter, narrowing my brows. I hate how observant she is all of the time. “I’m fine.” I lift my chin trying to appear unaffected, but I am exhausted.

  “I’m sure you are, you’re tough,” she smiles, before turning to look out the window.

  What the fuck does that mean? She doesn’t know me.

  Pulling up to the scene I instantly notice the motorcycles. Coming to a complete stop, my heart skips a beat at what the hell I just pulled up on.

  “What? What is it?” Raven asks, trying to sit up in her seat to look over the hill.

  “Stay here,” I order. Undoing my seat belt I notice Raven does the same. “I said fucking stay put!” I point at her, my tone sharp. Her face goes stoic, and she sits back in her seat with a frown.

  Closing my door, I head over the hill to get a better look. My shaky hand on my gun, boots thudding against the asphalt I come face to face with a fucking massacre. The building of the Lost Bastards, a graveyard. Sweat drips down my back as I lose my breath. They are bodies everywhere, the smell of bullets and death thick.

  One of the Outlaws turns and familiar cold eyes find mine. His hair is in a bun, his leather cut displaying his club’s colors. The Sin City Outlaws. Felix pulls a cigarette away from his mouth with bloody hands as he watches me, blowing smoke into the wind. He doesn’t seem afraid of me, or concerned at what I’m witnessing. He looks like a beautifully broken savage in blood in leather.

  Looking at the blood bath, I suddenly realize this is the club of the Lost Bastards. I did this. I gave Felix the missing puzzle piece to complete his masterpiece of anarchy.