by Laikyn Meng
“Home? Ha, well down the street we used to live on, they opened a café. Stupid place with coffee and bagels. But this woman owns it, and every day, her husband sits out on the steps with a sign that says the witch is taking orders. Then you go inside and order; she has a sign that reads, the devil is lazy.”
“Sounds like a safe marriage to me.”
“They seemed happy, Roulette. Genuine, as if they didn’t have to argue or smack each other around. They seemed at peace with being together.”
“That is what you have with Knox?”
“It is what I always wish to have with him.”
In the distance, a truck pulls up, and an angry man jumps out dramatically.
“Excuse me, Roman. It seems a white man with a frail ego has just crashed our goodbye services.”
“Big truck/small dick?”
“Precisely.”
I get there in time to hear shouting; the man takes a step closer, and I pull out my gun and shove it in his nose.
“Roulette, you can’t just pull out a gun here. This isn’t your territory; people won’t look the other way,” Denver nasty whispers to me.
“Why? We are on the reservation. It is private land. They will have to call the FBI. Wait, will they call the FBI? How much longer are we planning to stay?” Luckily, the man in front of me doesn’t charm the gun out of his face.
Smart man, maybe the big truck matches some heavy tool underneath his belt.
“Marley!”
He rushes over to us.
“What were you doing behind the trees?”
“I had to pee.”
“You peed on sacred ground, on Indian burial land? Marley, I don’t think you were doing us any favors. Now I really think we will have bad luck.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Roulette.” True nods at the gun in my hand.
“Oh right, Mr. Stranger, as you can see, you have pissed off the wrong person.”
“He is my husband.” True is so sweet and small as she says it. But I see Denver flinch in ways I don’t understand fully.
“Ex-husband.” The big truck man corrects her.
“My mistake, of course, because apparently, you can divorce someone you claim died.” True is so stoic, I am jealous of her image.
“Ex-husband? What kind of size are we talking about here, True? Does his truck match his manhood?” I wiggle the pistol around.
True checks over his shoulder, and she scrunches her nose and shakes her head.
“Marley, text Roman he was right.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Maybe you should get your gun out of my face, ma’am.” I slap the side of his head with it because that is a silly idea.
“Hey! I like when he calls me ma’am not you, buckaroo.”
“See, I knew you ran off with lowlifes.” He spits at my shoes, and I shake my head; oh no.
But I don’t have to react because Marley picks him up by the collar lays the most beautiful punch in all of the cemetery hits.
Chapter 18
Roulette
“Hello, Jordan.” I take a sip of my tea and place it on the table.
“Oh shit! What are you doing here? How did you find me? No one knows where I am, not even—”
“Knox?” I cross my legs and straighten out the cloth napkin in my lap. “Tell me, why you choose to play games with my friends?”
“I paid him off. Both him and Roman, we had a deal.” Jordan doesn’t dare move, but his eyes search everywhere for an escape.
“Did you? With what money, honey?” I told Patch I was headed to the spa for the day. Not batting an eye, he agreed. I guess having a woman inform you where she is going isn’t a courtesy he has experienced.
Syron and Killian sit together a few tables away. What a shame this must be such a public execution. Jordan is such a hoot; he looks up at the buildings, which has me looking also. The damn fool thinks I brought snipers to our farewell.
“Take a seat, Jordy, you wouldn’t want to make a scene.” At my request, he slams his ass down in the chair so hard the table wobbles, spraying me with my beverage.
“Sorry,” he mutters. I raise my eyebrows as he catches himself. “Never mind, fuck you!”
“Oh, sweetie, you were never really good at that either.” Pursing my lips as I wipe off the drops on my pants.
“What do you want, Roulette? You left me in Las Vegas, remember?”
“I changed my mind.”
“You can’t possibly be serious. Now you want me back? Typical.” He rolls those immature hazel eyes, even knowing if I asked, he would come crawling back.
So I laugh, and it feels good to loosen the bitch face for a minute. “We both know it was never about you.”
“What do you want from me then?”
“Well, to even the playing field. You did know that about me, didn’t you? I always exact my revenge with a curtsy. But to be honest, you wouldn’t throw out the prince and princess from their castle, now would you?”
“Killian isn’t my son.” Rubbing his chin on his shoulder like he doesn’t care. Oh, but men like him always care about their next-generation carrying on their legacy.
We must not disrupt their pattern of belief that only male descendants can continue to conquer.
“Yes, but you didn’t know that until a few months ago. You still harbor affection for Killian, love him even.”
“Does he know?” Looking thoughtfully in the distance.
“Since he was born.”
“But he called me Dad.”
“Dad is a word, Jordan. Father is an action. Just because he called you Dad, it was more a name than your title.”
“I’ve been everybody’s fool? Jokes on me, you get the final laugh, huh, Roulette? Don’t know what you came here for; I don’t have anything left to give.”
“Jordan, I truly believe you don’t know anything about me if you honestly think I came down to your shithole of a hiding place to negotiate something from you.” I stand, leaning in real close. “I know you have nothing to give because I took it. I want a divorce, baby.” My mouth to his ear, without waiting, I fire into his side; my silencer does its job.
As I step away, he begins to bleed out; again, his eyes are wide with shock.
“Jordan, you should really stop underestimating me. It doesn’t seem to work in your favor.” Turning to my son’s table, I see Patch sitting there with them. He looks over to me, calm and collected. I give him a smile; I guess he isn’t letting me get away this time.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
The End.
Check out the Next Book in the Series following Roulette’s friend
True Mourningdove.
Tortured Truth
FEMME FATALE BOOK 2
What is your greatest fear?
Could you face it every day and remain sane?
For years, I've been kept like an animal in a cage.
A pet to please, a slave to serve.
They stole my dignity, revoked my right as a mother and wife.
Before being taken, I was radiant, joyous even.
My elders often spoke with great reverence about who I was to become. A spiritual example to my community, yet I find it hard to see the purpose when looking in the mirror and seeing the scars of a woman I no longer recognize.
Though many try and silence our pain, I open my palms to show you the evidence of suppression.
My name is True Mouringdove of an Indigenous Tribe.
This story is not a reenactment of victory and triumph.
But a willingness to continue, under the most wicked of circumstances.
I am here, and I am a survivor.
But that doesn't mean my captors will have the same blessing.
Every light starts in the darkness.
Tortured Truth is the 2nd book in the Femme Fatale Series. Be cautious when opening this book's contents. The theme is heavily involved in Sex Trafficking.
18+ Mature Content,
Explicit Language, Alcohol & Drug Use, Sexual and Violent Scenes, Trigger Warning (Please be advised and heed warning that this book will have graphic scenes.)
Other Books by Laikyn Meng
CHOICE
TRUE LIES Series
Broken Bonds
(Autumn Jazmine & Jenkins)
Lost Salute
(Briggs & Trae Lae)
Sacrificing Lovers
(Laney & Noah)
Souvenir Souls
(All Characters)
Ever Duet
Didn’t We Say Forever?
(Harper & Shaymus)
Promise Me Never
(Zailey & River)
MUM’S THE WORD SERIES
Muffle: A Love Like Luna’s
LUNA & ASHER
Minder: Olallie’s Offering
OLALLIE & LAWSON
Metanoia: Calhoun’s Courage
Miffed: Kalonie’s Kalon
Memoriter: Leonie’s Latibule
Leonie & Dawson (Maroon)
Morosis: Lennox’s Hard Knocks
MUSED: Asher’s Attrition
Femme Fatale Series
Chicago Leo
Tortured Truth
Sour Diesel
Forgive Me
Laikyn Meng was born.
Award winning Indie Author, who creates intimate and edgy content.
Penning promise to the authentic voice for the contemporary romance genre.
Laikyn's unique tone perks up eager ears, a poetic dance with a dark flare.
Love language consists of the dictionary, making her a glorified logophile. Fascinated with the color orange. Enjoys funerals. Eternally an optimistic. Japanese at the knees, because only a quarter.
Momma to three descendants, in which they actively participate in living room dance offs.
If there is but one thing you take from her characters and their worlds, you are never alone. Through every breakup, new experience, falling in love, becoming someone new, Laikyn as a writer is here for you.
Please be generous if you loved this story of hardship and personal growth. Leave a review!
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