“Dude, did you see this shit?” Hoodrat’s sitting at a table with Chuckles, and I can’t help but walk over to see what all the fuss is about.
“Hmm. Interesting.” Chuckles nods, furrowing his brows.
“Somethin’ goin’ on boys?” I ask, taking a seat next to Chuckles.
“Yeah, looks like there’s a new club that came outta nowhere. The Beasts of Brutality MC. Gamble called Boss a few minutes ago and told her about them. Looks like they’re some of the leftover Demons of Hell. You recognize any of them?” Hoodrat hands his phone over to me and I swipe through the pictures, stopping as my eyes land on two men I thought went to the edge of the earth. My brothers—Pistol and Duke.
I nod, “Where they at?”
“Lewes, Delaware.” Hoodrat responds, surveying my reaction. “They’re trouble, aren’t they?” He asks the question but he isn’t dumb. Of course, they’re fucking trouble.
Delaware is far enough away from us that I’m hoping they won’t pose much of a problem, but that’ll only happen if we’re lucky. The thing about my brothers is that they never know when to stop. They were some of Rage’s sickest bastards. They loved to cause as much chaos as they could, not giving a damn about what they destroyed.
“They’re not our concern, yet. Boss said our main priority is dealin’ with the cult.” Chuckles speaks up, lookin’ to Hoodrat.
“We don’t even have any news about the cult as of yet. Everything ran dry,” Hoodrat grumbles.
“I know none of us like sittin’ on our asses, and waiting for shit, but Boss is sending Ainslee down to Virginia. She’s gonna come up with somethin’ soon.” I tell Hoodrat, choosing not to refer to Tala by her birth name.
“What makes you think Ainslee is gonna get us shit?” Hoodrat rolls his eyes.
“They were targeting unmarried college girls. We put a ring on her finger, have her dress modest while goin’ to school, and put her in very specific classes . . . she’ll be bound to run in the same crowds as people in the cult. If they’re there that is. And if they are, we’re gonna find out.” I speak up.
“He’s right, Hoodrat. We just gotta give it some time. The good things come to those who wait.” Chuckles speaks in my defense.
“Yeah, well I’m tired of waitin’ and not actin’ on shit. It’s infuriating.” Hoodrat grumbles, and I can’t blame him. No one likes sittin’ around and waitin’ for shit to happen.
“I’m sure you are but complainin’ about shit isn’t gonna make it go by any quicker. Like damn, dude. Calm your shit.” Mug laughs from the other side of the room.
“In the meantime, just enjoy the peace and quiet. We all know this is a rarity.” Muffler adds in.
“Shit, I know this is fucked up, but there can’t be a gang comin’ in to keep us busy for a hot minute?” Hoodrat groans, running a hand over his face.
“We don’t need any more headaches, Hoodrat.” Tala chastises him as she comes in through the doorway, glaring at her outspoken member.
“Sorry, Boss, but damn I’m bored.” He grumbles.
“So, go play video games or do something around the club and make yourself useful. We have tons of shit that needs to be fixed up around here. You can get your ass to work any day of the week.” Tala smiles widely, giving him a silent order.
“Fine, fine. I’ll go check out shit downstairs and see how it’s runnin’,” Hoodrat mutters. Hoodrat rises from his chair and passes Tala, heading downstairs to do as he said.
“I’m going down to the Cuban place a couple blocks away. Is anyone in the mood for anything?” Tala questions the club.
“Mind grabbin’ me that sandwich you always get?” Ricochet questions her.
She nods, “Sure. Anyone else?”
No one makes a sound.
“Okay, I’m gonna head on over.” She says, heading for the door.
“Want any company?” I don’t like the idea of having her walk the streets alone, but then again, she’s a staple of this community. Everyone around here knows her, and they’re either terrified to cross her, or they’re thankful for whenever she’s lent a hand to them.
She smirks and shakes her head, “No, I’m a big girl. I can do this by myself.” And just like that she’s gone.
Chapter Fourteen
The most dangerous woman of all is the one who refuses to rely on your sword to save her, because she carries her own.
~ R. H. Sin
Boss
I’ve been craving Cuban food so bad lately. At Destiny’s birthday party we went all out, and I might’ve been the one eating most of the cake. Needless to say, I’ve been on really good behavior with what I’m eating since then, so now it’s time to treat myself. The Cuban joint caters a lot of the massive parties we throw, considering none of us are big fans of cooking. Well, unless you count Faith and Iris, but those two ladies are from the south and most days I’d say they don’t count. Everyone from the south knows how to cook, right? It’s like a rite of passage or something.
I turn the corner and slowly start approaching the doorway when I notice it’s open. I swear it’s a bit past twelve, which means it wouldn’t be open right now. They close for lunch from noon to twelve-thirty every day.
Figuring they might be having extended hours or something, I grab onto the metal handle and pull it toward me. “Mateo? Luis?” I call the two sons’ names out, but silence is the only thing that welcomes me.
Still, even though I feel a rock in the pit of my stomach, I continue. For some reason I feel the need to look on the ground first, so I do, staring at the yellow linoleum floor. It’s worn as usual, nothing appearing any different. I avert my gaze around the corner of the counter and see something on the floor. I place my hand over my gun, looking around and trying my best to be as quiet as possible. Darting my eyes back and forth I don’t see a thing. Not one thing is here.
My heart pumps a mile a minute in my chest as I round the corner, and as I do, what’s before my eyes makes my blood run cold. Out of instinct I drop to my knees and grab his head, but already know he’s gone. There’s no sign of life in his eyes, and the blood is dried around his mouth and neck. He’s been like this for hours at least.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” a man’s deep voice says from behind me, just as a shadow casts over my body.
“Did you do this because you were waiting for me?” I question, turning to look at the man who was trying to gather my attention.
Blood covers his hands and he’s tossing a butcher’s knife back and forth between both of his hands. “You usually come here at two on Thursdays, not noon. I thought I had more time to get things ready, Boss. Tsk. I guess I’ll simply have to deal with your early arrival.”
It’s true, every Thursday I do usually come here to grab a bite to eat . . . but if he knows this, he’s been watching me for some time.
“What do you want?” I question, slowly moving my hand to my gun, but he notices my slight movement. He kneels down on the ground and presses the blade to my throat, a smirk that only begs for me to do something. He’s itching for more blood and it’s obvious. I know his type. Unapologetically sinister.