“My apologies.”
“My friends always bring me something too, Vinny. What have you brought me?” From the corner of my eye, I see Widow’s face contort into anger. He’s furious at Amara, and since things have been silent with them the past few days, we’re all expecting them to blow up pretty soon.
“My services, Amara.” The fact he knows her name doesn’t phase her, or any of us. We’ve had bastards like this come to us before, one’s who are good at digging up informa-tion. The question is, what kind of service does he provide. I’m putting my bets on the fact that we’re all about to find out shortly.
Amara pulls out her vape and takes a drag, “I don’t need anyone else working for me, Vinny. I’m good.”
“With all due respect, you don’t have anyone, like me, Miss. Your family below the border is heading for a war that they will not win, and your sister has been caught helping the other side. I doubt your uncle would appreciate that information.”
Amara’s face turns bright red, the anger obviously affecting her. So, there must be some truth to it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. My sister is out of the country.”
“I get information, that is one of my many services. I find things out, things that most wouldn’t be able to. Only, I’m not a rat. I’m a consultant of sorts. One who happens to be an expert at forging every document you can imagine, from a deed to a house to your kid’s sick note. I’m your guy. Not to mention, I’m playing in the counterfeiting game and my system is flawless. The government hasn’t even been able to tell I’ve been circulating mine into their mix. I doubt they will for a good five or ten years, but by then, I’ll just have something better again.”
He moves his hand to his pocket and I wave my gun around, “You’d better watch what you’re doing there, buddy. I’m feelin’ a little trigger happy today.”
“Oh, I’m simply just showing Amara what she didn’t believe. It’s just a photograph.” Cobra marches up to the man and rips it out of his hands, walking it over to his Prez, he hands it to her. She tries to hold back the shock on her face, but she can’t. It’s so easy to pick up on with the way her eyes go wide. In all the times I’ve ever seen Amara and Damon interact, it’s almost always been conflicting. This is different, it looks like nothing but a girl who needs her brother.
Damon approaches her, peering over her shoulder to look at the image and then takes the image and puts it in his pocket. “Is this the only photograph you have?”
“Oh no, I have them backed up on a server. But, don’t worry. I’m a smart man, and it’s not smart to piss off a family such as your own. I’m here to offer my services to you all, including my forgeries, counterfeits, and sensitive informa-tion. Obviously, from the photograph I’ve just provided you both with, you know that I’m good.”
Amara whispers something to Damon, and he looks at her and nods once. “We’re interested, but if you so much as breathe a word of what you know to anyone, or share this photograph I will kill you and everyone you love. You can count on that. No one messes with my family.”
Vinny smiles, almost as if he’s won the best prize at the carnival. “Oh, you can count on that Damon. No one messes with the familia and gets away with it.”
Instead of correcting him like I think he will, he says something that surprises me. “No, you’re wrong. No one lives long enough to do it. Now get out of here, we’ll be in contact shortly.”
Vinny gets back in his Jeep and drives off into the distance. Meanwhile, I’m sure that I’m not the only one left wondering what the photograph is, or who wants to know more information about their sister. I know it’s none of my business, so I stay out of it.
“I’m gonna go check on Camila. Haven’t seen her in a few hours,” I tell the group of them, making sure that they hear me. Heading back to the trailer, I walk straight in and head to grab a pop out of the fridge before I go into our room. Flipping the tab of the can open, I revel in the feeling of bubbles floating across my taste buds. This shit is like an off brand of a grape pop, but boy is it good. Camila picked it up when she went to grab the coffee pot and I’ll have to ask her to get me some more.
Placing my hand on the knob, I turn it slowly and enter our bedroom. She’s sprawled out across the bed, shaking feverishly. I set my pop down on the dresser and go over to her, sitting on the side of the bed. “Princess, it’s alright.” I say, thinking that she must be having some sort of nightmare.
“No… please don’t… no… no!” She continues thrashing, throwing her body in all sorts of positions. Beads of sweat run over her brow and my concern for her grows. I’ve had nightmares like this before too, ones that feel far too real. That’s only because they’re not a nightmare at all. They’re haunting memories that come back to plague us in our dreams.
Moving my hands towards her, I brush them over her skin, hoping that the gentle caresses will help. They don’t, though. “No!” She screams, shooting forward from her sleep. Her eyes scatter around the room in complete fear until they land on me. Hands shaking, she takes a deep breath. “I’m so s-sorry,”
The selfish bastard in me wants to know what’s going on. What’s happened to her that has given her this level of fear, but I know not to press her. She’ll tell me in her own time. I have to have faith in that. I scoot myself further into bed with her and lean on my side, wrapping my arms around her body. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now. You’re safe with me, Princess. You’re always going to be safe with me.”
Chapter 16
SHE COULD BE HEAVEN OR HELL, A STRONG MAN’S DREAM AND A WEAK ONES NIGHTMARE. -REGGIE NULAN
Camila
I woke up early this morning and took a long, hot shower. Thoughts of last night ran through my mind, knowing that there’s no way we’re not going to talk about my nightmare. I’ve thought about trying to play it off like I can’t remember but it’s no use. He’ll be able to tell I was alert and caught me in the brunt of it.
As I whisk eggs in the bowl, I think about how I’ll tell him about my dream. Only, a few short years ago, it wasn’t a dream. It was a traumatic event that happened to me, where part of me was taken without my consent. In almost all coun-tries, it’s illegal and those who complete this surgical proce-dure are imprisoned. However, there are some who view it was a religious necessity. I know that religion wasn’t involved. This act was purely done out of hate, to make my life even worse than what it was at the time.
Pouring the eggs in the heated pan, I watch as they bubble and start to form into an omelet. I want to make sure that we both have something to eat before I tell him about my dream, and what was done to me. I know he’s curious, and I can’t blame him for that. If the roles were reversed, I’d have probably already pressed to know what happened. I know Boog isn’t the type to do that, but there won’t be any hiding it for much longer. Especially if his hands try to wander again, or if he wants to have sex during the daytime. He’ll see my mutilation, and I just hope it doesn’t make him want to be rid of me. That’s been my worst fear since this happened, that a man will never love me because of it.
As the eggs finish up, I pop two pieces of toast in the toaster and grab two cups of coffee and set them on the island. Cobra left about twenty or so minutes ago, so I know it’s safe to speak with Boog freely. He’s just sleeping in, so I’ll let him continue to do that. I really don’t want to wake him up.
I walk back to the stove and see our omelets are perfectly done, the cheddar cheese oozing a little bit. Damn, I can’t wait to pop that in my mouth. Taking the two plates I set on the countertop earlier, I pick up the eggs with a spatula and pop them on the plates, placing them on the island in front of the bar stools.
I’m kind of in my own little world as I walk towards the coffee pot and take it in my hands. Turning, Booger scares the ever loving daylights out of me and I drop the pot. Shit! I didn’t even hear him walking down the hall. The slamming of the glass against the wood floor hits me at the same time the hot liquid splatters across
my feet. I react badly and jump, feeling something sharp poke in my foot upon hitting the ground.
“Jesus, Camila!” He rushes over to me and scoops me up into his arms, putting me on top of the counter.
I start to jump back down, “I need to clean that up,” I say to him, but get a glare in return.
“You need to sit that fine ass of yours here and let me check out your foot.” He growls, grabbing a cloth from the counter, he puts it under the sink and rinses it with water. Slowly he wipes off the top of my foot and then looks at the bottom. “Thank God. It’s just a cut.” The warmth of the cloth goes over the bottom of my foot and burns like a bitch when he reaches the cut.
“I was just trying to make us breakfast.” I mutter, bringing my arms closer to me.
He takes a look over his shoulder and sees the food I have displayed out for him, turning back and gives me a sweet smile. “I’m sure it’s delicious, sweetheart. Once we get you cleaned up, we’ll dig in.”
“Boog,” I start to tell him, but pause, not wanting to waste any more time, but it’s so hard for these words to come out of my mouth. I’m so fearful of what he’ll think of me, or how he’ll view me. A million different variables come into my mind, driving me insane.
“Yeah?” He asks, staring at me intently. “What do you want to tell me?” Ugh, of course he knows I want to say something to him.
“There’s something I need to tell you. Something that’s really hard for me to say. I’m scared, really… scared that you’ll view me differently after I tell you this.” I rub my hands over my arms and keep my eyes away from his. I can’t bear to see his reaction after I tell him. Although, I don’t know if it’s the fact that I don’t want to see his reaction, or that I’m so worried that he’ll be disgusted with me.
“Alright. You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”
He places his hand on my knee and rubs in a circular, soothing motion.
“After Rafael gave me to Ricardo… he would fuck with me in a lot of ways. At first it was mentally, and then physi-cally.” I stop, waiting to see if he’ll ask questions, but he doesn’t. “He’d make jokes so much about putting rat poison in my food that I didn’t eat. I didn’t want to risk it. He beat me once, but it wasn’t too bad, so I consider myself lucky. I know things could have been much worse than what he…” For some reason, any time I come close to telling Boog what happened to me, my fear rises up in the pit of my stomach and makes me want to keel over. I’m going to have to tell him. There’s no way around it, especially if we’re going to continue this relationship. I’m just so petrified that he won’t want me after he finds out what Ricardo did.
That I’ll be too damaged and mutilated for him.
“Damn, Camila. Just tell me what’s on your mind. I’m not some little bitch with a micro dick. I can handle whatever it is that you’re gonna say, sweetie. I’m a big boy, and I promise you, I can handle it.” Even though he can tell I’m nervous, I see the way he’s trying to make me laugh.
I don’t know what comes over me, or gives me the courage to look at him dead in those eyes of his, but I do. I stare deeply into them as I tell him the worst part of my past. “Ricardo took my clit. He cut it off.”
Boog’s irises expand and then condense. I see the shock that rolled through him, and as his hand shakes on my knee, my nerves come back full force. He’s silent, not making a peep for more than five minutes. I know because I’ve been watching the clock on the microwave that long. “How?” Is all that comes from his mouth.
I squint my eyes, thinking of the horror that day brought. I was a teenager when it happened, just past seventeen. “Hemtold me that if I wouldn’t let him bring me pleasure, that no man ever would.” As the words come out, I hear his voice saying it.
My nightmare used to be my reality, and I know that they will never go away. They’ll continue to haunt me for years to come.
Chapter 17
ANGER IS A SIGN THAT SOMETHING NEEDS TO CHANGE. -MARK EPSTEIN
Booger
Yesterday might have been the most difficult day of my life. I had to listen to Camila tell me everything about her time with Ricardo, and in that, a monster awoke deep within me. One who wants nothing but to take down Ricardo, and every person who stood by and helped him in his atrocious actions. I want the motherfucker to burn, and my god, he will.
I’m not the type of guy who ever runs to my Prez and tells him we need to have church, but this isn’t an ordinary situa-tion. We’ve only been down here in Vegas for a little while and in that time we’ve already run into issues. This just adds to the pot of reasons why we need to act now instead of waiting shit out.
“Please speak, obviously something is on your mind.” Damon says to me, taking his seat at the head of the table. I almost anticipated that Amara and the Brotherhood members would be sitting in, but they’re not. Figuring out this hybrid
MC shit is confusing as fuck. We’re supposed to be a united front, but yet we do so many things separately. It doesn’t make any sense.
“We need to take out the Vibora’s, sooner rather than later. They’ve already caused problems with the club, and after finding out what that fucking scumbag did to Camila, I want his blood.”
Damon nods his head and leans back in his seat. “I understand the need to want him to suffer. Believe me, out of anyone here, I empathize with your situation. But just because I’m empathetic doesn’t mean I’ll lead us into a situ-ation where we’ll all get killed. We have to be smart. We’re still the outsiders here, Boog, and everyone knows that. Now, when we have more intel and we’re more familiar, you know we’ll strike. Until then, we have to do our homework.”
“What the fuck kind of homework do you even mean?! Your uncle leads these vermin. I’d say it’s pretty easy to get your intel on them, Prez.” I spit out his title, my anger obvious to everyone in the room. I would never normally raise my voice or speak to any Prez in this manner, but this is important. Damon has ways to find things out, and he’s not fucking using them. Now that infuriates me like nothing else. I kinda wonder what the fuck is going on in that thick head of his.
The door to our small room where church is being held flies open, and Cobra peeks his head in. “I’m agreeing with the snot rocket. We need some blood.”
Damon shoots up from his chair and raises his voice as he speaks, “You’d better shut that fuckin’ door right now, before I cut off your head, snake.” At that, cobra shuts the door and I hear his footsteps going back down the hall. “Fuck, we’re never gonna get any privacy in here.”
“We’re in a trailer. These walls are paper thin.” Hawk points out, rolling his eyes.
Damon’s phone starts to buzz on the wooden table and he lifts it up, eyes scanning over it. “Shit. We’ll have to talk about this later. Christian Steele is five minutes out with our guns. I need you all to look out for a new prospect. He should be getting here within the next week or so, depending. His name’s Mouser.”
“Mouser?” Dixon chuckles, “Like Mickey?”
“No, he’s called Mouser cause he knows how to catch a fuckin’ rat. His family owns a bounty hunting business, and his Pop is an old retired Reaper. Mouser used to score off of Bull back in the day when he was on shit. Now he’s following in his family’s footsteps and wants part of the life-style. We need more people, so Fist is sending him down here.”
The group of us nod quietly. It’ll be nice getting some fresh blood around here. It’s always interesting at first, but we’d be dumb not to take more men right now. “I’ll be on the lookout for new prospects too. Mouser is gonna be one of three, but I gotta go. We have shit to handle.” Damon slams the gavel down on the wooden table and exits the room.
“With a name like Mouser, you don’t think he’s one of those gay bikers, do ya?” Dixon asks, staring at me. Why the fuck he’s asking me, I have no clue.
“Why does it fuckin’ matter?” I snap back. I may have been raised with old, conservative values, but I sure as fuck didn’
t keep them.
“It doesn’t. I’m just sayin’. He sounds like a feminine son of a bitch. I don’t want anyone comin’ in here trying to make me their bitch.”
I shake my head. Dixon is over thinking this shit. “Watch him roll up and be a big, burly motherfucker and you’re gonna regret ever sayin’ anything like shit, man.” I bust into a bout of laughter. Hawk soon follows.
“I think we should be on the lookout for potential new blood, though. And I’m not talkin’ about Mouser. Damon wants more guys, and we’ll be sure to get some. Especially now.” I say to the group of them. Each of them nod in agree-ment. They know as well as I do that the time to expand is now. We just need to be careful who we’re bringing into our clubhouse.
Chapter 18
ASLEEP OR AWAKE, I DREAM OF YOU JUST THE SAME. -ANONYMOUS
Camila
“I can’t believe we got stuck watchin’ these two while everyone else is handlin’ business back at the club,” Cobra growls to Hawk. He must think that Kat and I can’t hear him, but I whip my head around so fast and shoot him a look that tells him to zip it. What I’ve learned about him so far is that while he may be funny, he’s a complete asshole.
“Is someone upset because he doesn’t get to play with their new friend?” I feign a look like a whining child and roll my fist in front of my eye, making it look like I’m crying.
Kat giggles next to me and shoots a smirk in my direction.
“We’re on bitch duty while they’re discussing things we need to know.”
Kat raises her eyebrows and stops looking at the canned vegetables in the aisle we’re in. “Oh, so you’ve dubbed this bitch duty?” She’s a pretty mellow chick, but every once in a while her attitude comes shooting out. I have a feeling that’s about to happen here in just a few moments.
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