American Street Kings: The Complete Series

by Bella J

  I winked at her. “I’ll see you girls later.”

  While I walked off, I smiled to myself, secretly feeling a sense of calm. It was amazing to have all these people around me, people I cared for. The banter, the bickering, and the overall feel of family and belonging, it was amazing. I didn’t know what I would have done without them…without the Kings.

  Chapter Ten

  Ink

  I lit a cigarette when we heard the roar of speeding Ducati engines. Crow and his crew wanted to meet up, discuss the problem of Slither’s disappearance. And if my instincts were anything to go by, my guess was Crow would want his pound of flesh since the snake fucked with his snow business. I knew men like him. There was no chance in hell he’d turn a blind eye after someone tried to fuck him in the ass. If there was a debt to be paid, he wouldn’t stop until it was settled.

  I leaned against the side of the van. “Remind me again why we have to roll in a cage whenever we meet with these assholes, yet they can show their balls by pitching with their hyperbikes.”

  Onyx stood with his arms crossed. “Because we’re not stupid.”

  “I dare you to say that in front of Crow,” Manic taunted with a huge-ass grin on his face.

  Dutch smirked before stepping in next to Onyx. He was no longer the club enforcer, yet he still acted like he was the head of fucking security. Poor fuck was torn between which brother he needed to protect.

  I straightened when the Sixes finally pulled up, Crow already approaching us. “I have to admit, it’s taking some getting used to seeing you at the front.”

  Onyx shrugged. “It’s a change all of us need to get used to.”

  Crow glanced over Onyx’s shoulder at Granite, giving a simple nod of acknowledgement his way, the cool swagger he carried so well never faltering. “So,” he started, turning his attention back to Onyx, “I’m guessing you haven’t found the fucker yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  Crow brushed his fingers against his neatly groomed beard, then plucked the two dice from his jacket pocket. It was his thing, dice. Crazy fucker. He always had a pair of dice with him, rolling them between his fingers, toying with them in his palm. It was those very dice that determined his enemies’ fate. By a simple roll of a dice, Crow played God, holding the fate of others literally in the palms of his hands.

  It wasn’t a coincidence the Gods of Six—or, as we called them, the Sixes—patch had two dice both rolled on sixes, with a grim reaper skull behind it, wearing a motherfucking top-hat. Such a contradiction between sophistication and fucking savagery.

  I’ve always wondered how he did that—acting like a savage one second, and then switching to a cool businessman the next. The Sixes were probably the only crew in the entire goddamn world who could slay in a leather cut and rule in a designer fucking suit.

  Crow glanced from Onyx to me. “I’ve been on these streets long enough to know that no one just fucking disappears like that. Everyone leaves a trace behind. Everyone.”

  Onyx shifted. “We’ve had our eyes and ears everywhere and came up short. It’s like the asshole never existed.”

  Crow placed his hands on his sides. “The fucker is hiding like a coward. He knows he’s a dead man walking.”

  Onyx glanced over his shoulder at me like he knew what I was thinking. He turned back to Crow. “What’s the plan?”

  “You mean once we find the fucker?”

  “Yeah.”

  Crow scoffed. “He dies, of course. No one fucks with my business and gets away with it.”

  “We have our own score to settle with Slither.” Onyx crossed his arms. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  Crow smirked. “Not at all. I’ll just double the pain while I kill him.” He shrugged. “That way, I’ll settle both scores.”

  I straightened, but Onyx shot me a warning glare, silently demanding I keep my mouth shut, before facing Crow again. “I think you can appreciate a man’s need to settle his own score.”

  “I do, which is why no one else will deal with him but me.”

  Onyx shook his head, rubbing his fingers across his jaw. “You know what he did to us, Crow. He kidnapped two of our women, and almost killed one. You can’t expect us to just let that go.”

  “Of course not. Which is why I’ll up the pain when I slaughter him.”

  Onyx shifted from one leg to the other, crossing his arms. “You don’t get it. This war was between us and the Pythons—”

  “And now it’s mine. Unfortunately for you, we got dragged into the war the second that motherfucker soiled my streets with that shit he called cocaine. Do you have any idea the damage he’s done to my reputation by selling coke that killed underaged kids and making everyone think it was my product?”

  “I get it,” Onyx muttered. “But he mutilated, raped, and fucking broke one of our women. You can’t expect us to just let that go.”

  Crow squared his shoulders and frowned. “The woman who got hurt, she an old lady to one of you?”

  “Does that matter?”

  Crow leaned his head to the side while focusing his dark eyes on Onyx. “There’s only one card you can play here, King, and that’s the old lady card. If she ain’t an old lady, my business with Slither comes first.”

  Onyx dropped his arms at his sides before pulling his fingers through his hair. “Listen, man, it’s complicated.”

  “I don’t give a shit how complicated it is. If she’s not an old lady, Slither is mine.” He stepped closer to Onyx. “Now, I’d hate for our business arrangement to come to an end over some low-life piece of shit. But you need to understand that my right on Slither’s life outweighs yours, and if you find him before we do, I’d like the assurance that you’d hand him over for us to deal with.”

  My fists balled at my sides. This was exactly why I decided to keep my secret, to not tell anyone that I already had the fucker tied up with chains, currently suffering through a broken knee. There was no way in hell I’d let anyone else get their hands on a piece of his flesh. Every drop of blood that coursed through his body was meant to be spilled for one reason, and one reason only—justice for what he’s done to Neon. Nothing else.

  Onyx moved up close to Crow, matching him in height and weight. “The woman he hurt might not be an old lady, but she’s someone special to all of us. And we promised her we’d make him pay. Don’t force us to break that promise.”

  Crow pressed his lips in a thin line, his jaw clenched and eyes focused. For a moment I actually thought the man was considering what Onyx was requesting. Full rights on Slither’s demise. But as the corners of his mouth quirked, malice oozing out of him like venom, I knew there was no way in hell Crow would meet us halfway with this. He wanted Slither for himself, and he didn’t plan on sharing.

  “The man is mine.” Warning clung to his words. “If you find him and do not hand him over to us, you’ll be ending one war only to start a new one…with us.”

  Unable to keep my mouth shut any longer, I rushed forward. Dutch forced himself in front of me, holding me back. “Not the time, man,” he whispered. “Let it go.”

  Crow smirked in my direction before glancing at Manic, who met his gaze. There was a familiarity in the way they stared at each other, even though it only lasted for half a second.

  As Crow turned his back on us, it was clear this conversation was over, according to him. No negotiating. No compromise. Just a giant threat that we’d pay heavily if we didn’t give him what he wanted.

  “Fuck!” Onyx blurted, kicking at the asphalt. “Jesus Christ.”

  “What the fuck was that?” Manic walked up to us, his eyebrows slanted inward. “I did not expect this meeting to go down like this.”

  “None of us did,” Onyx replied.

  “I did.” I stepped away from Dutch and turned to face them. “I knew Crow wouldn’t be satisfied just by knowing Slither was no longer breathing. He wants to kill the fucker himself.”

  Granite flicked his cigarette butt onto the street. “I guess i
t’s safe to say this complicates things.”

  Onyx started pacing. “If we find Slither before they do and kill the bastard ourselves, we’d lose them as an ally, a client, and gain our worst fucking enemy.”

  “We’ve been able to deal with a lot of shit in the past,” Granite started, “but going to war with the Sixes would bring down an entirely different shit-storm, one we can’t afford right now.”

  “So, we basically have two choices here.” Dutch pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “If we find Slither and have Ink here slit his throat, we’ll have the Sixes up our ass. If we find Slither and hand him to Crow, we’ll have Ink up our ass. So, we’re basically fucked up the ass either way.”

  Onyx grabbed the pack of cigarettes from Dutch. “Pretty much, yeah.”

  I just rolled my eyes and smiled in disbelief. “And why is it that you all seem so surprised by this? I knew the direction this conversation was going to go even before it fucking started.”

  “Ink, man—”

  “Nah,” I interrupted Onyx. “It’s cool. I get it. No one fucks with Crow and gets away with it. And since Neon ain’t my old lady, there’s nothing we can do.”

  That was the reality of our world. Certain shit worked a certain way. Fuck with a man’s business, you died. Fuck a man’s old lady, you died. Unfortunately, Neon wasn’t my old lady, which meant Crow had every right to demand he be the one to kill Slither. If Neon was my old lady, it would have been an entirely different story. But she wasn’t, which meant we didn’t have much of a choice if we wanted the Sixes to remain allies rather than become our enemies. Even I knew we couldn’t afford to not have the Sixes on our side. It was just the way it was, and there wasn’t shit we could do about it. But luckily for me, Crow would never get that chance. Slither was already mine—my little secret, chained and hanging from a ceiling, primed and ready for me to fucking slaughter. No one knew about it, which meant no one could do shit about it either.

  Onyx straightened, his forehead creased as he frowned in my direction. “You cool with this?”

  “Sure.” I shrugged. “It is what it is. I’m not an idiot. I know we can’t deal with the Sixes right now. We got enough going on.”

  Granite moved in next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The relief on his face spoke volumes. Even though he no longer wore the president cut, this club was still his life, just like the rest of us. But something changed for me. Something shifted, and my entire world spun on its axis. Nothing was the same for me anymore, and even though this club meant everything to me, she meant more. After what happened today, the universe just proved to me that I made the right choice by keeping my secret, by not including any of the guys in my plan. It was a shitty feeling hiding this from them, but after today, I knew it was the only way.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and headed in the other direction.

  “Yo, Ink,” Onyx called after me. “Where you going, man?”

  I turned while walking backward. “I’ll meet you back at the club. I need to clear my head for a while.”

  Onyx nodded. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “Yeah, no promises.” I turned back around and walked off. It felt wrong walking away from my brothers and taking my secret with me. But it was the only way. I made Neon a promise the day I picked her battered and bruised body up from the sidewalk, and nothing would stop me from making good on that promise. If that meant betraying my crew, betraying the patch—then so be it. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make. Nothing was more important than her.

  Nothing.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ink

  I slammed the door shut behind me, and Slither lifted his head, eyes heavy and complexion pale. The sound of his screams booming from the recorder reverberated off the walls and penetrated every bone in my body. The thrill was exhilarating. Like a fucking drug, it intoxicated my blood. I could listen to this fucker scream while falling asleep—a goddamn lullaby rocking me like a little baby.

  “Did you enjoy your entertainment?” The sarcasm dripped from my words.

  “He’s here to hurt her…isn’t he?”

  I stilled. “What the fuck you talking about?”

  “Daddy’s friend is here to hurt her…isn’t he?” His voice was brittle, like he was about to burst out in tears at any second.

  I stalked closer, eyes narrowed, and warning prickling the back of my skull. “Stop fucking around, Slither.”

  “Don’t let him hurt her.”

  His eyes were open, looking in my direction, but the closer I came to him, the more it seemed like he didn’t see me at all—like he was staring right through me.

  “You’re all monsters.” His jaw clenched. “She’s only ten!” he screamed, and my heart slammed against my ribs. “Don’t hurt her. Hurt me. Not her. Please, not her.”

  “Who the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Please. Don’t let him touch her.”

  “Slither, don’t fuck with me right now.”

  “It’s her birthday.” A tear slipped down his cheek, and his lips curled down at the corners. “Don’t hurt her on her birthday.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. Was he hallucinating?

  With my palm, I waved in front of his face, but he didn’t react. His eyes seemed glazed, almost disconnected.

  I rubbed my hand down my face, shifting from one leg to the other as I tried to figure out what the fuck was happening. I’d tortured and killed enough men to know extreme amounts of pain can cause hallucinations. Pair that with dehydration, hunger, and the psychological effects from listening to his own screams over and over for almost twenty-four hours, it could tip him over the edge right into crazy town.

  I checked the IV in his foot, the bag only half empty. I had purposefully set it to slow drip, giving just enough for him not to die from thirst.

  There was more piss on the floor, and judging by the stench wafting off him the closer I got, I was sure he shit himself too.

  The chains rattled around his wrists. “He came for her. He’s going to hurt her. No, no, no, no, no. Not her. Don’t hurt her. Hurt me. I’m a snake. I can escape. Not her.”

  “Oh, my God.” I stepped back until my back hit the wall, and I slid down, crouching as I witnessed Slither’s undoing.

  Abruptly, a maniacal laugh erupted from his throat, his entire face lighting up like a clown at a birthday party. “You’re going to die. All of you are going to die. One day. One day soon. Dead. Gone. Dead. Dead.”

  I remembered Onyx telling me about Slither and Wraith’s childhood, about how their parents whored them to strange men to pay for their mother’s drug addiction. Was Slither there now, in the past, hallucinating about what happened to them?

  His crazy laughter turned into crazy sobs. “Remember what I taught you.” Tears and snot dripped over his mouth. “Turn it off. They can’t hurt you if you turn it off.”

  “Turn what off?” I frowned as I witnessed Slither unravel right before my eyes. I lit a cigarette, never taking my eyes off him.

  “Turn…it…off.” His words slurred, his voice croaky and soft. His eyes rolled closed, and he leaned his head against his outstretched shoulder. “Turn it off, Dahlia. He can’t hurt you.”

  Dahlia. Wraith.

  Incoherent mumblings followed—words, sounds, weird facial expressions. Slither wasn’t here anymore. He wasn’t in this room, hanging from the ceiling with a broken leg. At least, his body was, but his mind escaped. I didn’t like it. I wanted him here—his body, his mind, his fucking soul. I wanted all of him here in this room, completely at my mercy.

  I snorted. It was fucking unbelievable how this asshole managed a way to escape every goddamn situation where he got his fucking ass handed to him. He truly was a snake, able to shed his skin and slither away.

  But not today.

  Straightening, I rushed toward him, grabbing his snot and tear stained cheeks between my fingers. “You ain’t checking out on me yet, motherfuck
er.” Abruptly, I jerked his head to the side and pressed my lit cigarette against his temple, the red-hot coal burning his flesh in an instant.

  He screamed, and I fucking smiled as I watched the smoke escape, the smell of burning skin and nicotine wafting around us. It was the smell of cruel justice, the stench of atonement. But his screams quickly turned into a cackle, a blatant fuck you aimed right at my face.

  “You can’t hurt me. No one can. Not anymore.”

  I flicked the dead cigarette to the ground, the burn wound red and oozy against his temple.

  His eyes grew wide, the whites a perfect complement to the crazy goddamn look on his face. “You can’t hurt me. No one can. Never again.”

  “Wanna bet, motherfucker?” My fist slammed into his gut—once, twice, three times. He couldn’t hunch over, but wind erupted from his mouth, and groans echoed from his throat. I swung my arm before hitting my fist against his jaw, and I relished the sound of bone against bone. But his laughter didn’t stop. In fact, the more pain I inflicted, the crazier his laughs became, the look in his eyes that of a certifiable fucking psychopath—wild and out of control.

  This wasn’t right. This was not what I had planned. There was no use in fucking torturing him, inflicting pain if he couldn’t fucking feel it. And I wanted him to feel it the way she felt every goddamn thing they did to her. I wanted him to experience it—the fear, the pain, the helplessness of being unable to fight back. But while his mind was taking a fucking hiatus from all of this, none of my plans would work. Right now, I could force a motherfucking sword down his throat, and he’d feel nothing.

  Frustrated and pissed off, I increased the IV’s flow, his freaky as fuck laughter bouncing off the damn walls. I grabbed my shit and stormed out, headed to the nearest hardware store. But as I swung the door open, I looked right at Manic standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Care to tell me what the fuck is going on here?”

  He glanced over my shoulder. “Jesus.”