American Street Kings: The Complete Series

by Bella J

His gaze fell to my shoulder. “What the fuck is that?”

  Air rushed past my lips.

  “Is that a bite mark?” He looked back up at me, eyes blazing with anger. “Is that a motherfucking hickey?”

  Jesus. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. All I felt was the pain as he dug his fingers deeper into my cheeks, and the fear that settled in my gut like concrete. “Glenn—”

  “Did you let him fuck you?” He pulled me closer, his body flush against mine. “We talked about this, Dahlia. Remember?” Fury rolled off him, slamming against my chest with intimidating surges. “Jerk him off, suck his dick, but do not fuck him. Now tell me you didn’t break the motherfucking rules.”

  “No,” I replied with a panicked breath. “I didn’t. I didn’t break the rules.”

  He tightened his grip for another second, his jaw ticking and nostrils flaring as he studied me.

  “Good. Because no King is worthy of my little sister. And those pretty legs of yours only spread for the ones I choose.” He licked his lips, darkness oozing out of him like an open sore. “Like the man you’ll be making yourself pretty for tonight.”

  “Please don’t—”

  “You will do this, little sister.” He jerked my face hard, my cheeks aching. “You owe me that much. Need I remind you why?”

  My stomach turned at the subtle reminder of why I owed him everything—including my life. It was a debt I’d never be able to repay, no matter how many jobs—or men—I did for my brother. I was fucking breathing today because of him.

  “No,” I muttered. “No need to remind me…brother.”

  “Good.” He let go of my face. “Be ready. And wear something…red. Apparently, the fucker has a thing for whores in red.”

  He straightened his cut, boots stomping on the wooden floors as he walked to the door. “Oh, I know old habits die hard.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “But don’t use my real name in the future. I hate that fucking name.”

  I touched my cheek where it still burned from his touch while watching his split tongue dance across his lips as he stared at me.

  “Yes…Slither.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Onyx

  “Hey,” I walked into the kitchen, Granite and Alyx sitting around the table, “have you seen Wraith?”

  Alyx took a sip of her coffee. “You mean the woman who slipped out of your room at the crack of dawn this morning?”

  “She slipped out, huh?” I grabbed myself a cup.

  “Yup. I even offered to make her some pancakes, but she seemed in a hurry.”

  Granite leaned back. “Has my little bro been played?”

  “Nah. It’s not like that.”

  “Uh huh.” Granite frowned at me. “Do you have her number?”

  “Well…no. I do have this, though.” I pulled out her knife, the one she left in the place of mine. “Seemed like she left me a little memento.”

  “Oh, my God. Whatever happened to flowers and chocolates, or even leather wallets?” Alyx took a bite of her pancake.

  I snickered. “That’s so last year. Knives and objects of torture are the new way of showing affection.”

  Both Alyx and Granite started laughing, and I chuckled.

  “Do you know where she lives?” Granite placed his empty cup back on the table.

  I smothered a soft, “No,” by placing my lips on a steaming cup of coffee. Clearly, my brother was trying to prove a point.

  Granite got up and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, bro, we’ve all been there.”

  “Ahem.” Alyx cleared her throat. “You have?”

  Granite froze, and this time it was his turn to hide a very subtle, “Fuck,” while taking a sip of his coffee.

  I snickered. “Burn, motherfucker.”

  “Fuck you.” He turned around. “Come on. Apparently, Ink’s already sitting in his seat waiting for church to start.”

  “Shit.” I put down my cup and stomped after Granite. “After last night, I don’t think Ink’s gonna be a joy to deal with this morning.”

  “Do you blame him?”

  “Of course not. All of us want to make those fuckers pay for what they did to Neon.”

  I was about to fall into step next to him when Alyx called me, and I stopped to face her.

  “What’s up?”

  “I know this is none of my business,” she started as she got up from her seat, approaching me. “But be careful.”

  “With what?”

  “Wraith.”

  Pressing my lips together, I straightened. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Just, there’s something about her I don’t trust.”

  “Like what?”

  “It’s hard to explain. I feel like she’s hiding something.”

  I snorted. “Are you serious? Alyx, all of us are hiding something or other. Not everyone is an open book.”

  “I know.” She pulled her hand through her hair. “Just…be careful, okay? Out of all the men here, you have the biggest heart. I’d hate to see someone break it.”

  “Uh…okay.” I rubbed the back of my neck, not sure whether I was exactly comfortable talking about my love life with Alyx. “Listen, I know we had, like, a connection or whatever you wanna call it. But I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

  “Okay.” She stepped back, holding her hands up in surrender. “I just want you to be careful.”

  “And I will be.”

  I turned and rushed out of the kitchen, wanting to catch up with Granite. That was the weirdest conversation I had ever had with Alyx. I appreciated her concern but didn’t like the fact that she thought my love life was open for discussion.

  I caught up to Granite just as he reached the door. He glanced at my cut. “You need to get that tag stitched.”

  “I know. It’ll be stitched before sundown.”

  Granite nodded.

  Dutch and Ink were already seated when we got there. Dutch appeared to be uncomfortable as hell in his new seat as VP, while Ink just seemed pissed. The room smelled like leather, smoke, and trouble.

  “Where’s Manic?” I took my seat at the head of the table, and in the back of my mind, I wondered if I’d ever get used to it.

  “I’m here.” Manic came prancing in, a huge grin on his scarred face.

  I studied him. “What’s her name?”

  “Jennifer. No,” he froze, “Jessica. No. Fuck.”

  “Jesus—”

  “No. It’s not Jesus either.”

  “You’re supposed to have a motherfucker of a hangover, but instead you’re sitting here gloating over pussy.”

  He shrugged. “If you got it, you got it.”

  “Okay,” I called. “Let’s start this shit show, shall we?”

  Dutch rolled his eyes. “Let’s.”

  I glanced at Ink, his expression not cracking even a little. “Something on your mind, Ink?”

  “Nothing you don’t already know.”

  Granite and I looked at each other across the table. I hated that he sat so far away now. His place was next to me—or should I say, my place was next to him.

  He gave me a slight nod, and I breathed in deeply. “Okay. First, Dutch,” I turned to him, “Granite says that boy we saved from his mom’s piece of shit boyfriend might know something about the snow going around.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I talked to him this morning. The dealers aren’t talking about who supplies the shit, but he’s heard the Pythons’ name come up in a few convos regarding the new drug.”

  “That much, we suspected,” I muttered. “If the Pythons are behind this new lethal snow, my guess is the Sixes don’t know about it.”

  Granite nodded. “Cocaine is their business, and they won’t like it when they hear their new arms dealer is moving in on their turf.”

  “Just like they did on ours,” Dutch said as he lit a cigarette, animosity dripping from his every word.

  I leaned back. “If we’re right, and the
Pythons are the new cocaine suppliers on these streets, we can use that to our advantage.”

  Manic lifted a brow. “How?”

  “There’s no way the Sixes will let the Pythons slide on in and make a buck dealing in their trade. If we can prove it’s the Pythons, the Sixes will be bringing war to their doorstep. And the enemy of my enemy—”

  “Is my friend,” Granite continued. “We’ll get our business with the Sixes back, and we’ll have an ally against the Pythons.”

  I smiled, and I could see Granite was feeling all fucking giddy inside with the potential our new situation presented.

  “I got word that there’s a shipment coming in tonight,” Dutch said, putting out his cigarette and fisting his hands together on the table. “If it’s true, my guess is the Pythons will try to distract the Sixes while all this goes down. Make sure they don’t get word of it.”

  “Makes sense,” I said, wheels turning inside my head. “We need to find proof, then present it to the Sixes. It’s the only way we’ll convince Crow.”

  “Hold up,” Ink interrupted. “Look how the last supposed meeting with the Sixes went down. Who’s to say the Sixes aren’t in on this with the Pythons?”

  This time Granite intervened. “I don’t know how Slither found out about our meeting with the Sixes the other day. My guess is he has a man on the inside, keeping tabs on them. But I know Crow. He’s been the president of the Sixes for as long as I’ve been sitting in that chair.” He indicated my way. “He might be a filthy son of a bitch who would steal candy from a baby, but he won’t compromise his product. Snow is his trade, and it took them years to build their little narcotic empire. He won’t jeopardize that by selling shit that’s killing people left, right, and center.”

  “Granite’s right,” I agreed. “Crow’s an immoral fucker, but he’s no snake. And the only reason he’s buying arms from the Pythons is because we stopped dealing with them, making good on Granite’s promise to Slither. If we can prove Slither is busy fucking Crow in the ass, we get the upper hand here.”

  “Fuck, yes,” Manic blurted. “About fucking time things got back to normal around here—normal being the Kings in charge of this fucking town.”

  “And Slither?” Ink asked, his face concrete. “Let’s discuss the part where he dies.”

  “Listen, man,” I turned to him, “I swear to God he’ll pay for what he’s done.”

  “Funny, that’s all I hear everyone say around here.”

  I didn’t like the look on his face, like he had somehow become detached, void of everything except hate. Revenge. Justice.

  “If we can get the Sixes on our side, I can guarantee it will end with Slither taking his last breath. Just…” I breathed out, “just be patient a little while longer.”

  Ink slammed both his fists onto the table, ashtrays and beer bottles clattering. “I told you, I’m running out of patience. Even though Neon is up and walking again, last night proved she will not be able to move on unless she knows he’s dead.”

  “And you, Ink?” I asked, pinning him with my gaze. “Will you be able to move on after he’s dead? Will death be enough to settle that guilt you’re feeling?”

  “Guilt?” He glared at me. “What guilt?”

  “The guilt of not being able to protect her. Even now, with her being safe here with us, you can’t protect her from the memories, from the nightmares. And it’s fucking killing you, isn’t it?”

  His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring while his eyes killed me slowly with a toxic stare.

  I leaned closer, practically bathing myself in the hate that radiated off him. “I swear to God that Slither will pay with his blood, but I can guarantee it won’t take away your guilt.” I got up from my seat, not taking my eyes off him. “Nothing will take away the guilt.”

  He didn’t say anything. But his eyes spoke volumes. He hated me, hated that he knew I spoke the truth. It hurt hearing those words, and he tried to fight the pain of the truth by detesting me—even if only for a few seconds. So, I allowed it. I allowed him to hate me because it gave him a temporary reprieve from what was really eating away at his soul.

  Motherfucking guilt.

  “Manic,” I called as I walked to the door. “You’re with me tonight, tailing the Pythons.. Granite, you and Dutch find out where this shipment is coming in and get us some motherfucking pictures.”

  Ink shot up. “What about me?”

  I chewed the inside of my mouth, closing my eyes, hating what I was about to do to him. But I had no choice. First and foremost, my responsibility lay with the safety of my crew—even if they didn’t see it that way. “You stay here. Neon needs you here.”

  “That’s bullshit!” he called after me as I exited the room. “This is fucking bullshit!”

  The animosity echoed in his curses. And it stung like a motherfucking bitch, the fact that I had to do this to him. But I cared too much not to.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wraith

  Past

  The number ten had been iced with pink frosting on the homemade cake. The entire house smelled like chocolate. Mom baked the cake the night before while humming the happy birthday song, smiling as she made her way around the kitchen. It was a side of her we didn’t see very often.

  Happy. Loving. Carefree.

  It was the medicine Dad had been bringing home for her lately. That was what made her so happy, turned her into someone completely different. Before she started taking it, she was always sad or angry, either crying herself to sleep, or storming through the house yelling at everyone, cursing me and my brother for ever being born. The days she was angry, she said it was our fault. The days she was sad, it was Dad’s fault.

  But whenever she was happy, Dad was happy. And that made me happy. But not Glenn. Not my older brother. When Mom and Dad were happy, they’d have friends over, and Glenn didn’t like it when other people came to our house. He never told me why, always saying he didn’t trust other people. Said he only trusted me. His little sister. When we were home alone, that was when he smiled. He was the only thirteen-year-old boy in the neighborhood who liked playing with his little sister—always spending time with me whenever he got the chance.

  Mom and Dad didn’t have enough money to buy toys, but Glenn always found a way to make me something to play with. Like paper airplanes or using money he earned by washing the neighbors’ cars to buy me balloons or crayons. But it was always our secret. He made me swear Mom and Dad would never know about the things he made or bought me. I never knew why, but I was too glad for the spoils to ask questions. I just nodded and played.

  Mom placed a few paper plates on the table. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” She smiled. I loved it when she smiled. She looked so pretty, wearing a red dress that matched her lipstick. With her raven curls and pale complexion, I always thought she looked like Snow White. Only prettier.

  “Blow out your candles and make a wish.”

  I glanced around the room. “Can’t we wait until Dad gets home?”

  “Dad won’t be home for another hour, sweetheart. And I’m dying for a piece of that chocolate cake. Besides,” she took my hand in hers, clutching it tightly, “he’s bringing home another surprise for you.”

  My heart leaped with excitement. “A present?”

  Her dark eyes beamed. “A present, yes.”

  “Did you hear that, Glenn? Dad is bringing me a present.” I’d never gotten a present on my birthday before. It was truly the happiest day of my life. Birthday cake, a present, and Mom was happy. But Glenn wasn’t happy, even though he smiled every time I looked his way. I could see his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Why wasn’t he happy? He was always happy on my birthday, even if Mom and Dad weren’t. On my sixth birthday, he snuck into my room while Mom and Dad were still sleeping, holding a Twinkie with a single burning candle. He softly sang happy birthday so as not to wake Mom and Dad, and after I blew out the candle, I wanted to share the Twinkie with him. But he said he had a tummy ache. I still believed he
lied. He didn’t want me to share the tiny Twinkie. He wanted me to have it all, knowing it would be the only present or cake I’d get that day. Glenn always smiled on my birthday. But not today. Why? He knew how important this was for me, to finally have the kind of birthday I only saw on TV shows. After all, he had already had his happy birthday three years ago, the day Mom had last worn her pretty red dress. Why wouldn’t he be happy about me finally feeling this kind of excitement?

  Mom tucked my hair behind my ear, staring at me like she was proud. I had never seen her look at me this way, like I wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen to her.

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  She placed a kiss on my cheek, a show of affection my brother and I had hardly ever seen. “You deserve a present this year. You’re my big girl now.”

  “What present is Dad bringing her?” Glenn’s voice sounded angry, and his light brown eyes glared at Mom.

  She stiffened, glowering back at him, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t want anything to ruin my happy day—especially not a fight between my mom and my brother.

  “You’ll see when Dad gets here.” Her answer was cold. Clipped. The opposite of the warm touch of her hand against mine. “Come on, Dahlia. Let’s blow out the candles and eat some cake. Remember,” she smiled at me, “make a wish.”

  I nodded.

  There were only two candles burning on the cake, but that didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but the happy feeling that filled my tummy with a thousand butterflies, flapping their wings like they were excited too.

  I closed my eyes, and I made a wish. I even stopped breathing for a few seconds while I repeated the wish over and over inside my head.

  I wish for more birthdays like this one.

  Once I was sure my wish had reached the stars, I opened my eyes and blew out the candles. Mom clapped her hands and gave me a peck on the cheek. “My big girl.”

  I smiled, watching her cut the cake, placing it on the paper plates.

  As she placed my slice in front of me, I looked up at her, and she nodded. It was one of the golden rules in the house, to ask permission before we ate our food—or in this case, the cake.