by Forgy, M. N.
Jerking the door to my cruiser, I get out. My arms outstretched coffee slips down my arms and drips off my fingertips. My hooded eyes slowly lift to Felix, my right brow raised.
“Do you get off on being an asshole?” I bite through clenched teeth. Anger poisoning my reason and common sense, I stomp toward him, my department issued boots slamming into the cracked sidewalk.
His brows furrow slightly as he tries his hardest not to smile at my temper.
Getting close, he towers over me, the smell of gasoline and cologne dancing around me in a hypnotic euphoria. My neck is cricked back to look at him fully. The gray in his green eyes reminds me of the color of steel concealing a criminal in prison. Cold and merciless, much like his personality.
“Jillian might have gone soft and got knocked up by one of you dipshits, but I’m not her. In fact, when the time comes, and it will, I’m not going to throw cuffs on you and take you in, no. I’m going to drive you out into the desert and beat you with my fucking nightstick!” My voice shakes with hostility.
“Sounds like my kind of Friday night,” he smarts with a curled lip. “What time should I pick you up?” He comes on to me, and I blink rapidly. His dark but captivating eyes sink into me, clawing out feelings I’ve never felt before. Fear? Lust? I look away, not liking the way his stare makes me feel. His body looms over me, snaking my body heat away and replacing it with something cold and savage.
“Just stay out of my way,” I warn. “That goes for your fuck-tard prospects too.”
Felix’s face hardens, and his eyes search his men wildly. Is he embarrassed? Or is he waiting to see if one of his men come at me for the disrespect I just spat at them.
“And here I thought Jillian was the queen of bitches, but I gotta say… you take the crown, Blue Bird.” He mocks, his men laughing behind him. I don’t find it funny, I don’t find any of them funny. They’re savages and killed Jillian’s father. How she can overlook that is beyond me.
Losing control, I shove him, pushing him half a step back. He’s hard beneath my hands, and my heart skips a beat at the contact.
“I swear to God I will tase you in the nuts!” I reach for my Taser, and he chuckles like I just made a joke. Gah, I want to claw his fucking eyes out!
“My best friend might have married one of you, but that doesn’t make us friends—”
“Sure as fuck doesn’t, that is one thing we can agree on!” he reiterates, his men agreeing by nodding.
“Good, then stay out of my fucking way,” I point a sharp finger at him in warning.
He steps forward, his chest flush with mine. I suck in a tight breath, a weight on my chest making me feel like I’m about to combust at the seams. I’m scared of this man and what he’s capable of, and here I am poking him with a fucking stick.
“Or what?” he snaps hastily, challenging me. I swallow hard, looking around nervously. His men stare at me intently. Their poses conveying they’re ready to take me down with a snap of Felix’s fingers. Raven is pale and looking at me like she might throw up from the altercation. Blinking from my stunned state I lift my chin and shoulders.
“I may not be able to arrest you because you’re a dirty son of a bitch, but I’ll make your life a living hell,” I whisper, my eyes never leaving his. I’ll pull him over just to pull him over. I bust a tail-light just so he has to pay for it to be fixed, and I will arrest every chick I see with him for solicitation.
“I’m the fucking king of hell, baby. If you haven’t noticed,” he says with a rugged voice. The darkness in the depth of his eyes telling me if anyone is going to hell, he’ll be the one ruling it.
Maybe so, but I won’t make it easy on him.
“Boys are so cute thinking a man runs hell,” I sneer, propping my hand on my hip right next to my gun.
His nostrils flare as he silently looks into my eyes. The tension, hostility and something else lingers between us as thick as the Vegas heat.
“I hate to break this up, but Jillian is about to give birth and Zeek is going to kick our asses if we aren’t there,” Mac interrupts mine and Felix’s staring contest.
Huffing, I take a step back and walk around him, Raven running up behind me.
The hospital smells like lemon and antiseptic. The fluorescent lights bright and ugly, and showing every bit of dirt and grime on the walls and broken tile.
Striding to the reception desk, a woman with short red curly hair types away at a keyboard.
Her gaze flicks to mine for a brief second before looking back at her screen.
“Can I help you?” she asks lazily.
“My friend was just rushed in having a baby, her name is Jilli—”
“Second floor, room three,” she replies, eyes glued to the screen.
“Thanks,” I raise a brow and head toward the elevator where all of the Sin City Outlaws piled in. The doors closing in on a shit-eating grin plastered across Felix’s face.
“I really hate that prick,” I grumble, taking the stairs instead.
“Really, because I thought you were going to kiss his face off outside,” Raven huffs behind me.
My forehead wrinkles at her accusation. “I mean, he’s sexy, any woman can see that, but I…” I swallow hard, trying to figure out what the hell happened out there. “But the law is the law.” I give a curt nod, and might actually throw up at how cheesy that sounded.
Making it to the second floor, Zeek is talking to his men, and I take no time to push everyone out of the way to get to him.
“Where is she? Is she okay?” I ask frantically.
Zeek looks down at me with a hard stare, and I can’t help but swallow hard. How Jillian got knocked up by him is a crazy thought. He looks anything but cuddly. His ink black hair has fallen in his eyes. His jaw hard and not a hint of happiness to be seen. He has to be packin’ down there to make up for his asshole personality.
“She just delivered and is resting. You can go see her if you want,” he informs with an unemotional tone. I flinch, as if I was asking to go see her. I was seeing her with or without his permission. She’s my best friend. Practically my sister.
Entering the room, I find her lying in bed, her stomach not as big as the last time I saw her. Her dirty blond hair is everywhere, her face sweaty and flushed. She has a baby in each arm, and is looking down at them like they’re her whole world. As if she’s never seen or experienced a love like the two bundles in her arms have just gifted her.
“Hey,” I whisper. Her head sweeps my way and her face lights up.
“You’re here,” she croaks trying to sit up.
“Don’t, stay put,” I insist walking to her bedside.
Smiling I pull the blue fabric to the side and see a Zeek look alike sleeping cozily.
“Oh my gosh, he’s adorable,” I coo. He’s all pink and wrinkly looking.
She silently laughs. “They both look like their daddy.”
“Did you guys decide on names?”
“Yeah. Meet Layken and Samuel,” she looks back down at the twins. Her movements are slow and sluggish. I can tell she’s exhausted.
“Very cute.” I brush a finger over Layken’s dark hair. She’s just as beautiful and giving me baby fever like the fucking flu. I never knew what people meant by the smell of a baby, but being this close to Layken and Samuel I now know. It’s clean, and sweet all at the same time. I could lift them to my chest and smell them all day.
“How are you feeling?” I whisper, looking her over. She looks a hot mess. Like she just went through war to be exact.
“It went really fast actually. I was having back pain all day, but didn’t think anything of it carrying the twins. But before I knew it, my water broke and they were coming out!” she laughs, her eyes heavy and tired.
“Oh nice, you’re like one of those moms who has their baby in the toilet because you thought you had a big lunch,” I joke, and she nods as if she’s agreeing.
“When my water broke, I thought I peed myself,” she raises a brow at me a
nd I cringe. “You should have seen Zeek’s face when I told him it was time. I thought he was going to pass out.”
“I’m never having kids,” I insist. I’m tired just looking at what Jillian has gone through.
“You know, I’m not one to believe in love at first sight, but this… it’s a testament that it really does exist,” she tells me with a somber smile. Reaching forward, I grab her hand, and give it a squeeze.
“How are you? How was your day?” She shakes the tears from her eyes, inhaling a breath.
I scoff, before rolling my eyes. “Ran into the infamous Felix a few times. You know, how you deal with Zeek on a daily basis I’ll never know, because I want to kill that Felix!” I grit every word, and Jillian just smiles in return.
“What?” I narrow my brows.
“Sounds a little familiar is all,” she shrugs, rocking her babies.
My eyes flare with what she’s getting at. “No! We are not you and Zeek,” I adamantly shake my head. I mean yeah, Felix is hot but he is so opposite of me. What could we possibly have in common besides wanting to kill one another.
Jillian yawns, before wincing. She needs rest, and I can’t help but think she’s trying to stay awake because I’m here.
“I’m on the clock, so I better go,” I offer, but I really don’t want to.
Jillian looks up at me with a thin smile. “Thanks for seeing us, I should be home soon,” she thanks, slinking down in her blankets comfortably.
“I wouldn’t miss it! Well, I did. But I was across town too,” I admit, lifting my left shoulder.
“Go catch some bad guys,” she whispers.
I laugh silently. “You have a whole crowd in the waiting room I could have a hayfield on,” I tease and she just shakes her head before looking back down at two soft heartbeats that will forever change my best friend.
Stepping out of the room Raven is lost in a lust filled dazed with Machete. Frowning, I elbow her and she jumps to. God, I can’t lose another one to a biker.
“Let’s go,” I tell her.
“How are the babies? Are they okay? Did she have twins? I heard it was twins?” she rambles behind me, trying to keep up. I hold my hand up stopping her firing of intrusive questions.
“They’re good,” I inform her. She nods, looking at the room Jillian and the babies are in.
I stride through the waiting room and my eyes catch sight of Felix in passing. He’s sitting in a waiting chair looking bored, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed with hooded eyes following me across the room.
A cold chill licks up my spine, and my heart beats a little faster. Using my middle finger, I act like I’m pulling the top off a lipstick and apply my middle fingertip to my lips as if I’m painting them in my favor color. Flipping him off, as I look away.
I don’t know what it is about that asshole, but I want to slam my nightstick in his gut and pull his gorgeous hair in a sea of ecstasy all at the same time. It confuses me and pisses me off. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Dangerous, out of control, but oddly safer than I ever have before. He’s a dangerous fantasy, and fairy tales don’t exist in the city of Sin.
Felix
“How’s Momma doing?” I ask Zeek, rubbing my hands together. He looks tense and stressed out.
“Jillian is fine, tough,” Zeek tells me. He looks stupid with that blue gown on and cap. I should take a picture and post it to the wall at the clubhouse. “Did you settle the problem?” Zeek asks, concern heavy in his voice. Before Jillian’s water broke we were knee deep in a conversation with the mafia. They want Sin City Outlaws as their muscle. I’m all for violence and striking fear into this city, but I reign my own control. My brotherhood condemns my punishments when I fuck up, not an outsider and surely not the fucking Mafia.
But they were clear. We submit, or war.
“No, the mafia is adamant. They want us to take over the Casino now that Frank and Cross are gone, and they want us to be their muscle. End of,” I explain.
“Fuck!” Zeek barks, causing other families in the waiting room to scowl at us. Reminding us we are in a family environment and not our clubhouse.
“Look, I have this shit handled. Go be with your family, man.” I suggest, not that him fucking knocking up a sheriff is my idea of a happy family. Not when you’re an outlaw, but this is the path he is trying to pave for us and I have his back. Family and brotherhood, and I bleed brotherhood I just have to learn the family part. All I know. I trust my fellow brothers with my life, as they do mine.
“I’m trying, man, but you know as well as I, the mafia is not someone to fuck with and I don’t want my club back in the throes of that chaos,” he bites his bottom lip, his black hair falling in his eyes. He’s right, no matter how I tried to tell him it’s going to be okay… it’s not. The mafia will fight back if we protest.
Zeek looks over his shoulder where Jillian and his newborn babies are held and back at me, a sullen look on his face. His forehead wrinkled with stress. I hate seeing him so vulnerable. I swear to God I’ll never fall in love, look at this shit.
“Just, I want you to run the casino, Felix,” he mutters, hesitation laced in the tone of his voice.
“You’re kidding.” I take a stand from the chair. I can’t believe we’re going down this road again, it was our dream to be out from under the mafia and running our own club. Doing our own bidding, and he’s wanting to just give in? “We can fight this, brother,” I implore him. I want to fight this. Blood, carnage, and war is what I know. Peace, that is a whole other fucking route.
“I know that, and we will. But right now I have to think about my family. Take over the casino, buy us some time to figure this out. Because when we tell them to fuck off… we’ll be getting a war we may be able to win brother…”
Chapter 1
Alessandra
Two weeks later
Sitting in my car in my parents’ driveway I strangle the steering wheel as I flick my eyes to the house. The one-story bungalow that has seen better days. Containing my stepmother, who I think is beginning to suffer from dementia. My father died on the job when I was fifteen, and nothing has been the same since.
Climbing out of my car with a long sigh I shut the car door with my hip and head up the steps and go inside. The door creaking and warning me it’s about to fall off the hinges if I don’t oil it.
The house is clouded with cigarette smoke, and the TV is blaring with the television show “Cops.” Using my hand, I waft the smoke out of my face and fish the remote out from Dad’s old recliner. Turning the TV off I look around for my deranged mother.
“Mom?”
“Oh thank goodness you’re home.” She pops her head around the corner, her hair pulled into an 80’s ponytail on the side of her head. “I’m almost out of smokes,” she coughs with a cigarette in her hand walking into the room. She has on a large Mickey Mouse sweater I’ve never seen before and skin tight rainbow pants. Where did she even find those?
I frown, my forehead wrinkling in confusion.
“Mom, you don’t smoke,” I shrug confused. I’ve never seen her smoke. Maybe she thinks she’s back in the 80’s. This is getting out of control.
Her eyes widen as she looks at the cigarette dangling from her fingertips, the wrong end of it lit. It’s smoking like crazy and reeks of nothing I’ve smelled before. A small cough wracks her small frame as her lost eyes find mine.
Groaning I take the cigarette from her and rinse it in the sink before tossing it in the trash.
“Mom, have you eaten anything today?” I question, looking at the clean sink and counter. Yesterday she ate Manwich right out of the can, then she was up sick all night.
I think I’m going to have to get someone to come in and watch her during the time I can’t be here. Maybe a live-in nurse or something. Dad’s insurance should cover it. I just can’t send her away to a nursing home. She’s all the family I have left.
She throws a hand at me and makes her way to Dad’s chai
r, flipping on the TV to resume her binge watching of “Cops.” She sits there most of her days, lost in the show. Yelling how they do everything wrong because nobody can compare to my father. When my father died, so did she.
“I’ll make us dinner,” I mutter under my breath.
A dog yelps and I jump where I stand clutching my chest. A little ball of fluff sits on the floor looking up at me with a wet nose. A German Shepard to be exact.
“Mom, whose dog is this?” I ask, poking my head around the corner.
“Oh, there’s a note on the table.” She throws her hand at me as she gets lost in her show.
Eyeing the dog, I pick up the folded card.
Alessandra-
This is from the very same bloodline as Pete571, the same line that your father owned. I was on a waitlist to have him but I can’t look at him and not think about how I failed your father as his partner. I wanted you to have him. He may not have been your real father, he did the right thing that day.
-K
Two emotions slam into my chest. Sadness and confusion. What does he mean he wasn’t my dad? He’s lying. He has to be. With my heart pounding in my chest like a sledgehammer, I barrel down the hallway to my parents’ room on a mission to find some answers.
Entering their room, it’s stuffy and dusty, the smell of musk strong as if the room hasn’t had a waft of fresh air in years. The bed is perfectly made like usual, and a picture of my stepmom and father of their wedding day sits the bedside table. Passing the bed, I jerk open the closet door and a worn robe swings in my face, the slight smell of my stepmom’s lotion swirling around me. Quickly I pull down the large box that sets atop of the closet, it has all of our family’s important information in it. My dad always put our stuff in here since I can remember. Report cards, pictures, diplomas, all of it went in here. He wasn’t much for filing things in the most efficient ways. Shuffling through the large amount of papers and folders, I pull out my worn birth certificate.