by Forgy, M. N.
Stepping outside the room, Dolly and Gia come out of a room across from me. Their clothes are disheveled, and their makeup is running down their face like Popsicles left out in the sun too long.
“My ass is so sore from fucking Felix,” Gia whines, and my heart falls from my chest hearing her say that.
“That’s nothing, I saw Machete fuck someone with the handle of his ax last week,” Dolly laughs and cringes. I bite my inner cheek as I click the door shut behind me, thus gaining their attention.
“Oh, we didn’t see you there,” Dolly plays innocent. I give a tight-lipped smile, acting as if I’m indifferent to whatever they’re getting at.
Continuing my way down the hall Gia grabs my forearm, her grip tight. My eyes slowly fall to her hand, and I can’t help but notice it reeks of rancid pussy.
“Don’t get any ideas about Felix, he’s claimed, honey. Besides, no cop has any business here,” she sneers.
“You were just the thrill of the chase, sweetheart,” Dolly states.
“An easy chase at that,” Gia laughs, letting me go.
My breathing picks up as I feel like I’m in high school all over again. Glaring at Dolly, I eye her dark eyes from where I elbowed her the other day.
“Nice eye shadow,” I insult, and her nostrils flare with hostility. Head held high I continue my way through the club, fighting back tears. I don’t know why I feel so hurt, I didn’t have sex with Felix expecting anything. Yet, this weight on my chest is crushing.
On the couch sits Machete and Rocky. Machete is feeding him jerky and ruffling up his puppy hair around his face. Rocky seems happy, as Machete does too.
“There you are,” I half laugh, half choke on emotion.
“Oh yeah. He was scratching to get out this morning, so I let him out. I hope that’s okay?” Machete informs.
I nod. “Yes of course. Thank you.” Only a crazy person would disagree with him, especially hearing what he did with the handle of his ax.
“Hey baby, you look like you could use some coffee this morning?” Carola suggests from behind the bar.
“Coffee? You have coffee?” I ask with more gusto than I intended. She laughs and turns around grabbing a mug.
“How else do you think I get through the day with these boys? Then again, I do add whiskey to mine.” She laughs to herself, before planting a mug of hot coffee on the counter.
Cupping it with both hands, I take a sip. It’s black, which isn’t usually my go-to, and it’s hot. I like iced coffee, with lots of sugar but I wouldn’t ever turn down a cup of joe. Coffee is a liquid hug.
“Hey, you working today?” The familiar voice of Felix tears down my spine like the claws of a cat. Placing the cup down, I turn on my heel, avoiding eye contact.
“Yeah, I can take myself,” I inform. The way he fucked me like he couldn’t get enough, and then couldn’t get away fast enough isn’t lost on me. I feel used, and hate how attracted I am to him.
“How are you going to do that, your car is at your place. Remember?” He tilts his head to the side, trying to look me in the eye.
“I’ll walk or something,” I mutter pushing passed him.
Outside the weather is cloudy but warm, the smell of rain is thick in the air.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Felix barks from behind me. I scoff, is he serious?
“I don’t have a problem, I just think we need to stay away from each other is all,” I insist, not bothering to stop and talk to him. We’re just a sweet disaster waiting to happen.
He wraps an arm around my waist, stopping me in my tracks.
“Whoa! What’s with the fucking tone?” his brows furrow.
“Don’t give me that shit!” I snap, and his eyes widen like I slapped him. “I’m not stupid, I know what last night was, and I’m a big girl I can handle it. What I don’t appreciate is you fucking me, and then literally going and fucking the club whore right after!” I point at the club’s door and his jaw ticks, his shoulders tensing beneath his cut.
“I’m sorry, was there fine print somewhere that said once I fuck you? That I’m to be monogamous to a cop?”
Heat flaring to unbearable lengths my hand slips from my waist and lands right across his face.
His head whips to the side and catcalls sound from the clubhouse.
“I’m just the cop, remember? So stay the fuck away from me!” My throat clogs with emotion, tears wanting to spill their heart out. I can’t believe I let him get to me.
“What the fuck is going on out here?” Zeek roars, stepping out of the clubhouse. His eyes land on me and Felix and I look away.
“I need a ride to work,” I mutter, not addressing the situation between Felix and I. Zeek looks between Felix and I catching on to the tension between us.
“Bomber Jack will take you in the SUV,” Zeek clips dryly. His eyes boring into Felix like he wants to strangle him. For what, I don’t know but I want to do the same right now. Maybe because Felix wasn’t supposed to sleep with me, or maybe he hid his attraction toward me from his president.
“Great,” I whisper softly making sure to avoid eye contact with Felix.
Sliding into the leather passenger seat I can’t help but glance back at Felix in the mirror. Zeek is yelling at him and pointing at the clubhouse. He must have done something pretty bad, as I’ve never seen Zeek yell at him before. Felix’s face is red, his hair blowing in the wind as his eyes focus on the SUV like he can see me staring at him.
Leaning my head back on the headrest, Bomber Jack climbs in talking about something, but my head is somewhere else to really listen. I need more coffee. I need away from the outlaws actually.
Looks like Felix and I are back to where we were.
Hating one another.
Like it’s supposed to be.
Cop and outlaw.
Felix
“What the fuck? Tell me what I think happened, didn’t happen!” Zeek barks at me like a disobedient child. It pisses me off. Puffing my shoulders out I get right in his face. He’s my president, but he’s also my fucking cousin. My blood. I think he forgets we grew up together.
“What?” he juts his chin, silently challenging me. Everyone is surrounding us, hoping we break out in a fight. If I didn’t have so much respect for him, I’d fight his ass right here.
“Who I stick my dick in doesn’t concern you,” I spit back, turning away I head to my bike.
Zeek steps in my way, his boots scuffing against the concrete.
“It does when it’s in my clubhouse. It does when it concerns my ol’ lady.” He points to himself. Jillian will be more than furious if I hurt Alessandra, and will bitch to Zeek. “But most of all what about all the shit you gave me about fucking a sheriff!”
My brows furrow, remorse not settling well within my bones. I did give him shit, and I still will.
“You don’t think I feel like a disloyal bastard screwing around with her? Huh?” I shout, my brows furrowing as my gut knots from the betrayal setting heavy on me.
Zeek shoves me, and I shove him back just as he throws my hands off of him. Nose to nose, I can feel the heat radiating off him, the eyes staring at us to see who will throw a punch.
Truth is I can’t make this right, I fucked Alessandra and knew when I did I was handing over more than my dick.
“She’s more than a fucking cop, she just doesn’t know it yet,” I counter, my own words surprising me.
“Yeah, I get that but why haven’t you told her?”
I shake my head, rubbing the hair lining my chin. I can’t tell her. I feel like she needs to find out who she is before I give her the answer. I’ve seen what Alessandra is capable of by a glimpse of her past. She’s lost and I’m the reaper that’s willing to show her the dark side. The tips of her white angelic wings are dipped in black, she just needs to be held under to fully commit to her inner demons.
Zeek growls, slamming his fist into the side of the shed next to where we park our bikes.
“This won’t
end well, brother,” he replies softly. “She has baggage,” he mutters and my head snaps in his direction.
“This is your fucking fault to begin with. If you wouldn’t have made me a goddamn babysitter and stuck to the bylaws of an outlaw, I wouldn't have gotten close to Alessandra and seen her for something more than a snitch. But you did, and now I’m all fucked up!” I roar, pointing to my head. The shit in my head is not well. The urge to hurt Alessandra and care for her all in one, not normal. To feel her delicate skin, then tear into her like I hate her. It’s an impulse I have to control every time I’m near her.
Looking down I sigh.
Suddenly Gia appears smoking a cigarette outside with a Red Bull in her hand. Pushing past Zeek I stomp toward her. Pissed she went and told Alessandra I fucked her, done with her fucking claiming ass.
Coming up to her I knock the Red Bull right out of her hand, and her eyes snap to mine in panic.
“What the fuck?” she snaps angrily.
Slamming my hands into the wall, a hand on each side of her head I get right in her face.
“Stay away from Alessandra or your ass is gone, do you understand me?” I sneer, and her eyes widen.
“But—”
“We’re done,” I ground out between clenched teeth, taking a step back I eye her like the slut that she is and shake my head.
I need to find Alessandra and set shit straight. She will listen, or I will fucking make her.
Alessandra
Chapter 7
Alessandra
Sitting in my cruiser, I take a sip of my iced coffee loaded with sugar. Man, I needed this. Coffee is like rocket fuel for a cop.
Looking up, a young man about the age of fifteen stands on the corner just ahead. Furrowing my brows I watch him closely. This being an alley, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone back here as I took my coffee break. A black Neon pulls up to him, and the young man leans into the window handing the driver something before the car drives off.
Shit. He’s dealing drugs.
Putting my coffee down, I pull around the corner and flip my lights on. The kid’s eyes flash with panic before he throws his arms out in disbelief he’d been caught.
Getting out of my car, I keep my hand on my gun. These kids are unpredictable when it comes to slinging drugs. Their bosses will have their fingers if they don’t return with money or drugs, leaving the kids desperate.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask in a friendly but stern tone.
He raises a brow, not speaking a word because we both know what he’s doing out here.
Stepping up to him he’s almost as tall as I am. He’s handsome for his age. Short brown hair, sharp jaw, and piercing blue eyes. He looks like he’s had it rough just by looking in his eyes let alone his clothes. His black shirt looks dirty though, and his jeans are worn out.
“What’s your name?” I question.
He looks down, still not wanting to speak to me.
“Look, if you want to do this the hard way that’s fine,” I scoff, reaching for my cuffs. I can be just like every other straight cop if that’s how he wants to play it.
“Bishop,” he grumbles, and I stall, my hand falling from my cuffs. Eyeing him, I wonder what drugs he’s selling. Simple weed, or something worse.
“Turn around.” I twirl my finger wanting him to face the cruiser. Sighing heavily, he plants two palms on the hood of the car, obviously knowing the drill.
I pat him down, finding a baggie of weed, and crack in his back pocket. Jesus Christ. He’s a fucking kid. It angers me to see these drug lords finding such young kids and giving them such powerful drugs to deal.
“Why are you out here dealing this crap?” I ask, tossing the shit on the hood.
He sneers as if I’m an idiot.
“You wouldn’t know shit about living out here,” he spits back.
“So why don’t you tell me then, make me see it.” I cross my arms, intrigued to hear his story. I know it won’t be pretty, and that is why I take compassion on cases like this. Because I do understand. I’ve seen mothers stealing milk from grocery stores just to feed their children. I’ve seen kids running drugs because they got kicked out of school. The streets are hard, and I want to help.
“My mom is sick, and nobody will hire me because of where I live. I’m doing what I have to, to take care of my family,” he informs with more confidence than a lot of people I find dealing dope do. They either blame it on a friend, or it’s not theirs. Something stupid.
“Your loyalty is admirable,” I mutter. He shakes his head, not saying anything. I can tell he’s the strong, quiet type.
“Who do you work for?” I interrogate, hoping he will tell me so I can bust the fuck who is hiring out kids. He doesn’t speak a word though.
Feeling my back pocket for cash I pull out two-hundred bucks, I can’t remember why it’s there, probably forgot to pay a bill, and toss it in front of him.
“Tell whomever you work for you’re done,” I demand.
Bishop turns around, eyeing me like I’ve lost my mind. “My boss ain’t just going to let me go,” he laughs condescendingly.
“You work for the Sin City Outlaws now,” I continue and the boy’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. He knows as well as I do nobody will question the Outlaws. “You’re done with this shit. You are going to head over to their club and tell them… Jillian sent you.” Nobody will care if I sent him, but they will if Queen Jillian did. “They will put you to work, and protect you if you have what it takes,” I offer, totally throwing Jillian under the bus. Drug lords out here don’t give a shit about these kids. If Bishop runs into trouble, they will turn their back or kill them. He’s lived his life in the throes of the streets, so there is no rehabilitating him.
Bishop lowers his head, rubbing at his cheeks as he mulls it over.
“It’s that, or I take you in,” I clip.
His blue eyes shoot to mine, a tick in his hard jaw. He knows as well as I do that if whoever he works for catches wind of him being taken in by the cops, he’s in trouble. I don’t want to put him in harm’s way, that is why I’m doing this in the first place.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” he swipes the cash from the hood with force.
“Good.” I give a curt nod. “Head over there now then.”
Bishop walks away, looking over his shoulder at me before turning the corner.
I could have taken him in, but he would just be back out here slinging drugs tonight. He’d be shot or killed before he was twenty-one. At least with the Outlaws, he will have a better chance at surviving the streets because he’s shit at dealing drugs. I spotted him easily.
Grabbing the drugs off the hood of my car, I sling them into the gutter of the street. The rainwater taking them down the sewer. Sliding into my cruiser, I look at the MDT to make sure I didn’t miss a call. I’m supposed to pick Raven up here soon, she had a family meeting and is starting her shift late.
Looking down the street, I watch trash tumble across the grimy street, the blazing sun causing a haze to waft from the pavement. It’s not the prettiest scenery, but it’s typically quiet back here.
A knock on my window has me scream and nearly spill my coffee. It’s fucking Felix.
Rolling my window down I have the sudden urge to tase him for scaring the shit out of me.
“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you find me?” I ramble off a series of questions.
“I can always find you, Black Bird,” he replies huskily. His words coming out with promise and making my toes curl in my boots. “Your suspect is getting away,” he mouths, pointing in the direction of where Bishop just turned.
Pursing my lips, I look away. Fuck, I’ve been caught being a bad cop. Again.
He leans down resting his arms on the window seal. “We need to talk,” he demands.
I shake my head. “No, we don’t. I told you to leave me alone.”
He laughs. “Yeah, you don’t make the rules, sweetheart, I do. Besides, you think I’m
an asshole, and I’m not an asshole, you’re just being a bitch.”
Jerking my door open, I climb out and shove Felix with all my might. Having enough of him and his damn controlling ways.
“What the hell is your problem!” I shove him again, knocking him back a few steps. He flicks his chin with his fingers, a smirk pulling at his lips. Lips I remember tasting and biting last night. He’s amused by my temper, go figure.
Reaching out to shove him one last time, he lashes out and takes my wrist into his hard grasp. He jerks me to get my attention, and my eyes flutter with the amount of control he has. Reminding me how strong, and virile he really is.
“You. You are my fucking problem!” he seethes in my face. His dark eyes holding me where I stand. I relax in his hold and take a ragged breath. I hate how I want him and don’t, all at the same time. It’s tiring, and I can’t tell if I want to run or climb him like a tree.
He steps forward, pushing me backward. “Can we talk?” he says calmly, his wild eyes looking me up and down.
I don’t respond as I clench my teeth. I hear the door to my cruiser open, and I’m shoved into the back seat. The hard plastic biting into my back. He climbs over me, shutting the door behind him.
“You don’t want to fucking talk? Fine, how about we just let our bodies figure this shit out then, huh?” He tilts his head to the side as his fingers fling off my utility belt. My body comes alive, but my pride defies the warmth building in my chest.
“I’m still a cop,” I remind him.
“Shut up,” he snaps, his hands sliding up my arms and pinning them above my head, his lips brushing against my skin and my eyes roll into the back of my head. He’s right, our bodies have a language of their own.
Sexual impulse races through my veins and I can’t help but pull from his grip and grab him by the back of the neck, pulling his mouth to mine. Needing him closer to me, to touch him, and taste him.
He chased me down. He’s here with me. That stands for something, right?