by Forgy, M. N.
Using my tongue, I flick at the mayo just as a dollop is about to drop. Salty yumminess coats my tongue, and my eyes roll in the back of my head as some slips from my lip and falls on my chin. Machete sucks in a tight breath eyeing me like he wants to bite into me. Using his thumb, he gently wipes the dripped mayonnaise off my face and presses it to my lips with a callused fingertip. My heart flutters in my chest as my eyes fall on his. Emerald smoldering eyes bore into me, and I’m seared to the spot I sit. Against better judgment, I suck his thumb into my mouth and lick his fingertip clean. It’s salty and warm, and I want to lick and suck much more than that.
My thighs clench and my panties dampen with arousal as I taste him everywhere in my mouth. This is so much more than a feeding; this is torment on a whole other level… and my twisted heart says it’s the best dinner I’ve had with a male companion. The only one to be exact.
The door to the main room suddenly opens, and Machete stiffens. I look over his shoulder and see Zeek, Felix, and Gatz enter and head toward us. They’re all wearing their cuts and looking dangerously handsome as usual. Zeek leading everyone right into my cell I tense and grit my teeth. Lust slips from my face and I place my survival mask back into place.
“You’re feeding her?” Zeek asks in disgust. I scowl at him.
“You wanted me to keep her alive, how can I do that if I starve her?” Machete snaps in reply, sandwich still in his hand. His eyes hit mine, and I know now more than ever he really is taking care of me. Putting his neck out there just for Zeek to slice off at the end of the day.
Zeek looks at me with a heated stare, Felix’s face matching the same hatred.
“The mafia sent us a gift,” Gatz informs holding a bloody cardboard box.
Machete looks over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing in on the box.
Machete
Handing Zeek the sandwich, I take the box from Gatz and pull it open. The smell of decay and blood hitting me first, I’d recognize the smell from anywhere. Looking into the cardboard
It’s the severed head of Gia, a club whore. Her eyeballs are dislodged, and mouth gaped open with a golden bullet between her teeth. Her hair is stained with blood, and mascara ran down her cheeks. Reaching in, I grab the bullet from between her teeth. It’s definitely a message from the Mafia, and more of ours will end up in a box if we don’t settle the score. They’re pissed we chased Cross off, and the way things got heated at the last meeting we had, they’re even more pissed. Closing my eyes, I put the bullet back in her teeth, and I shut the box.
“Can you fucking believe that?” Felix asks with disbelief. He used to fuck with Gia, and I can’t help but notice emotion pass his face. Good thing Alessandra isn’t here to see it or his head would be in the box too.
“Yes, I can. You going fuckin’ ape shit and killing two of their guys at the last meeting wasn’t going to go without consequence, dumb fuck,” I shake my head.
“I need you by my side. You down?” Zeek asks, his eyes telling me he needs his brother at this dire time. The club needs to retaliate and show we aren’t backing down without a fight.
“You settling this now?” I ask. I’m all for shooting now and asking later, but Zeek isn’t much for that impulsive act these days. That’s why he’s the president and I’m not, I guess.
“Yeah, they want to meet us at the Casino. Now,” Felix fills in the information.
I look to Raven.
“What about her?” I ask, not wanting to just leave her alone down here. I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere, and last time I left Raven with someone, Zeek was ready to snap her in two.
“I’ll watch her,” Gatz offers.
Before I have time to accept, Zeek agrees. “Good, let’s go.”
Looking at Raven one last time, I hand Gatz the sandwich. She’s so helpless and beautiful tied to that chair. Her black hair falling in her face and dark eyes looking at me like she only trusts me to torment her and care for her. That does something to me, that she wants only me to cause her pain and then make it better. I want to make it better, I want to stay down here in this fucking bunker and show her the kind of master I can be.
But my brotherhood needs me.
“Feed her, then leave her alone,” I instruct Gatz. He gives me an awkward look, but I dismiss it.
I wink at her before following my boys out.
Raven
Gatz shakes his head and takes a bite of the sandwich and I want to cry. That’s my food. I can’t help but notice he’s more cleaned up than the other men in the club. He has a boyish charm to him too that the others in his crew don’t possess, but his scary tattoos indicate he’s capable of much more. There’s webbing up his arms, a beautiful spider at his elbow. A black widow maybe? Makes me wonder how people come up with these ideas for tattoos.
Hunching down, he clips the zip tie clasped around my right hand and I quickly sigh, rubbing at the raw flesh around my wrist with my other hand that is still tied to the chair. I’m not sure how much more my wrists can take before the skin starts to bleed.
“Here.” He hands me the sandwich.
I eye him, curious why he’s not threatening me, and why he’s being so nice. He must sense my unease as his forehead creases.
“They may fear what you’re capable of, but I’m not them. Deep down, I know you’re just a fucked up little girl,” he states dryly. Rolling my eyes, I snatch the sandwich from him and sink my teeth into it. The juices fill my mouth and I swear I inhale more than I chew as I shove the whole thing in my mouth. I choke as lettuce gets caught in my throat, but I just take another bite, pushing that chunk further down. I’ll never underestimate a sandwich again!
Gatz leans against the wall, his legs kicked out in front of him as he watches me closely. It’s creepy.
“What?” I ask, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“You. I find you very intriguing,” he admits. I scoff, I’m basic. Plain. Vanilla.
“Trust me, there’s nothing interesting about me.”
“Oh yeah, who keeps a torn up poem under their pillow?” he tilts his head to the side, and my heart stops at the mention of the damn thing. Did they all read it?
Swallowing the chunk of food in my mouth I look down at the bread, picking at it mindlessly.
“Do you like or hate it?” he prods with a curious tone.
I flick my gaze to his. “Both,” I admit. “It’s a part of me, ingrained in my head but I hate what it stands for,” I explain with a squinted face.
“Ah, I get it. You’re the demon bird in the poem right?”
I nod, he’s much smarter than I took him for.
“Well, did you ever think the bird was a figure of the man’s imagination. Maybe he was insane before the bird ever got there, and he made the bird up to accompany him.”
I give him a look, never seeing it that way. Is that even true?
“I don’t think so,” I shake my head with a confused look pulling at my face.
“How so? You see the bird as something bad, but I see it as a metaphor for a man seeking someone to keep him company because he’s mourning his lover. His soul mate is gone and now his heart is so dark it’s poisoning his imagination.”
With a twisted expression I look to the floor, not sure if he’s just trying to make me feel better or if it’s a possibility the Raven in the poem is what the imagination makes of it.
“Do you have a family?” he changes the subject.
Inhaling a breath, I drop my free hand in my lap and give him a narrowed look.
“Somewhere. Why?”
“I’m just curious how a pretty girl like yourself got in such a fucked up situation like this one. Surely there’s more to you than what meets the eye,” he shrugs, and that’s when it begins to make sense. He’s trying to find an angle to attack me; a weakness.
“Trust me, you don’t want to see what is inside of me,” I clip with a hateful tone, granting me an irate look from Gatz. Noting that things inside my head and soul are mu
ch darker than anyone could handle. Being raised by serial killers and convicts prepares you for anything and a lifetime of nothing but solitude.
Gatz pushes up off the wall, his shoulders puffed out as I just pissed him off with my tone.
Grabbing my hand roughly, he slams it back to the arm of the chair and locks it back into place with the cut piece of zip tie.
“I might be your only friend in all this little girl. Keep that in mind when you want to play bitch next time,” he seethes, showing me the outlaw he can truly be.
Inhaling a breath, I jerk my head to sweep the hair out of my eyes.
“I have no friends. No family, and no fucks to give.” I lift my chin, trying my hardest to keep my hard shell intact. I can feel it about to give, to crack and bleed emotion all over my chains. These Outlaws are tearing down barriers that were there to help me survive.
Gatz chuckles as if I don’t get it.
“You’re a dead girl still breathing. If you’re smart, you’ll take that wall down and let someone in before your life is cut short,” he threatens, confirming what I always thought. That Zeek is going to kill me when this is all over.
“Who, like you?” Emotion laced in my voice.
Gatz looks down, his eyes peering up through his thick lashes.
“No, I don’t give a fuck about you,” he says upfront. “But I see the way Machete looks at you, and the way you look at him.” He crosses his arms, standing tall. I don’t reply. My chest constricts, nervous at what Gatz will say.
“Maybe you can save each other,” he mutters under his breath and that sentence was a grenade at the stubborn strength.
“Maybe we’re past saving,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes.
Gatz looks over his shoulder, his hands tucked into his dark washed jeans.
“Nobody is unredeemable.”
Chapter 6
Machete
Following Zeek into the city we ride to the Sin Casino. Slowly the desert turns into buildings and fast cars. The smell of outdoors turning sour from the rancid City. It makes me want to turn back and hide in the bunker with princess darkness herself.
The casino used to be run by Zeek’s Uncle Frank and his right-hand man Cross. The motherfucker we’re after, he wants the club and we aren’t going down without a fight.
We are the original Outlaws, living by our own rules. Sometimes the actions of our laws are impulsive and can lead us into a shit storm. Us being a brotherhood, we have each other’s back no matter what though.
Pulling into the private parking behind the casino. The mafia tends to have its meetings with us here instead of the clubhouse. As the casino is theirs, and the clubhouse is ours. Not to mention, if shit goes wrong and they’re in our clubhouse… they’ll all die. So it’s smart they stay on their own ground. I put my motorcycle on its kickstand and pull my helmet off.
“So what is the plan exactly?” I ask, not sure if we are going in guns blazing or if we are here to have a nice chat. I don’t do polite conversations, so I’m willing for option A.
With my emotions running fucking wild in my head from Raven, I could go for some blood shedding. Get my head back into the game.
“ I think we should run the casino, and they will get with that or we will fight them until they give in or we die,” Zeek explains, lighting a cigarette. Smoke spilling from his lips and wafting around him effortlessly.
“I’m sure they will be more than willing to just hand everything over,” I reply sarcastically, taking the cigarette from his lips and taking a drag myself. “I really don’t want to be polite tonight. Can’t we just go in there and cut his head off and put it in a better box?”
Zeek shakes his head, trying to hide a smile.
“No,” he kills my fun. “ I have a plan,” he informs. “They will make a deal with us because we are going to give them Cross,” Zeek says with a wolfish grin, and my mouth nearly hits the fucking concrete.
“You’d do that? You would give them Cross just to settle a score? Don’t you want Cross’s blood?” I can’t fathom what the hell Zeek is thinking. Cross came at us, tried to break our brotherhood and he’s just going to give that soul to another? Not to mention in the back of my head the way he ruined Raven and hurt her. It makes me want to pull his limbs off like a fucking doll.
“What about Gia’s head?” Felix asks with crossed arms.
“My club means more to me than Cross or Gia. It’s all I know and understand and without it, I’m not just lost but my family is. Does anyone disagree with handing Cross over and ending this shit?” Zeek looks around at me, Felix, and Mac.
“No, brotherhood first,” I mutter, knowing I have to put my thirst for revenge to the side. This is my family and if it means my brotherhood is safe … then I will fall in line and hand Cross over. I support Zeek.
“No, I’m in,” Mac says with a curt nod, his hands balled into fists.
“Should we hug now?” Felix asks sarcastically, and we all chuckle.
“I don’t even hug the bitches I fuck, so I don’t see me cuddling your ugly ass,” I jut my chin at him.
* * *
Following Zeek inside of the casino, the smell of stale smoke and alcohol is strong. The sound of slot machines going off, and people yelling in excitement that they’re winning in the distance.
I don’t gamble. I don’t have good luck in life so why would I take the gamble with my money. Seems fucking stupid.
We head into the VIP elevator and jet towards the top of the casino where the office is held.
The elevator doors ding, and I follow my president into the office. Strong cologne and cigar smoke fill the room. A fat man in a tuxedo sits behind the desk with five identical men at his side. They’re all wearing white wife beaters and track pants. Guns in their hands that are casually crossed in front of them, and gold chains and rings shining from the lights above.
They came with extra heat so Felix won’t be taking out anyone without a blood show this time.
I scan over the room. An expensive wooden desk, a bar stocked with the top brands of whiskey, and the back wall lined with tinted glass, giving you a bird’s eye view of the city. I smirk remembering Frank falling out that window.
The fat man stares at us through the cigar smoke, his heated eyes passing from one Outlaw to the next. He’s wearing a Gucci suit, gold and diamonds on each one of his stubby fingers, and a black hat sits to the side on the desktop. His face is round, and a dark five o’clock shadow sprucing along his jawline.
The hairs on my neck stand, my trigger finger feeling itchy.
I swallow hard, this rotund man isn’t a loose asset the mafia sent to do their dirty work. This is one of the main men of the mafia himself. The tattoo of a praying Mary across his neck indicating so. We really fucked up this time. Fucking Felix going cowboy at the last meeting really fucked us.
“Fucking sit,” the fat man barks, and the men strapped with AK’s aim at us.
Zeek steps up to the desk with a certain confidence in his stance and scratches his temple with his pistol. My teeth grit and I keep my hand on my own weapon. I don’t like the feel in the room, tension is thick and my urge to kill every one of these gangsters is beyond controllable. Sure I might die trying but that’s what my way of life is about. To die with a purpose, not with fucking dreams untold.
“This won’t take long,” Zeek explains arrogantly, and the boss laughs. His large shoulders rising and falling hard as he chuckles.
“My men and I will be running this casino, and I will be running my motorcycle club. If you want in on that, we can work something out,” Zeek informs, not seeming to give two shits that he’s amusing the man.
“You killed one of our girls, you’re lucky we are even here trying to talk this shit out.” Felix grits his teeth.
“Salvatore said you were a character.” the man shakes his head as if he’s talking to himself. “I like that arrogance you behold. Reminds me of your father. Not Cross though, I’m talking about the man you cal
led daddy for years, that was before you killed him and took his club.” The man hisses the past, and I notice Zeek’s spine straighten. This man is fucking with his head, and I don’t like it. Zeek’s real dad was thrown in jail and members kept getting arrested, we all thought it was his dad ratting everyone out and Zeek had him killed on the inside. Only to find out in the end, his real dad is Cross. It’s fucked up. Some Jerry Springer type shit.
“You know my father?” Zeek asks softly, referring to the man he called dad for years, but wasn’t blood.
The man’s eyes race to Zeek’s. “Oh yes, he was much easier to do business with too.”
Zeek looks down with a solemn look and crossed his hands in the front of him with his weapon palmed tightly.
“Enough of the family reunion, let’s get down to fucking business,” I bite hatefully, not liking the way this asshole is digging into my president’s head.
One of the men pulls the chamber back on his weapon, eyeing me particularly. I smile and stretch my arms out.