The Disciples: A Dark Romance Collection

by Sweet, Izzy

  Lots of sun, beaches, and blood, is more like it though. I had to track one of Lucifer’s father’s debtors. It sucked. Too many damn people around, too many damn distractions.

  Then again, I got to see the shitty underbelly of Hollywood. That was fucking eye-opening. There were more sleezy scumbags than I could believe. Fuck, everywhere I looked I saw drugs, prostitutes, and thieves.

  I thought Garden City was bad, but Hollywood was worse. It seemed like the higher someone was in the social circles, the dirtier they played. Too many of those men and women out there thought they owned the world. It wouldn’t be a picnic trying to keep that fucking city under control.

  “I can just imagine you laying on a beach, drinking piña coladas,” Meghan says with a chuckle.

  “Nah, that shit tastes foul. I tried my hand at surfing though, for about a week. It was interesting trying to find a board big enough for me,” I say with a laugh at the memory.

  “You, surfing?” She snorts.

  “Yeah, I wasn’t too bad at it. I spent a week after my job just sitting in the ocean from dawn to dusk. First time in my life I found my hands clean from dirt and blood. Saltwater washed a lot of shit off me,” I say.

  Those fucking waves out there… it was peaceful. I’d just sit on the board and watch the swells coming in. Take in the horizon. Two months later, I was in prison. It was fucking hell being shoved into a six-by-eight-foot cell after seeing the ocean.

  Being in prison… it was like living on pure adrenaline for years. But… fucking Meghan… She walks over all those deep-seated instincts and touches me with no fear. I touch her now just to make sure she’s real, that she isn’t some figment of my fucked-up imagination.

  “Wow,” she says as she looks over to me in something akin to surprise.

  “What?”

  “I never pegged you as the surfer boy type.”

  Chuckling, I say, “I’m not.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I know you’ve got a rep to protect.”

  “So, what were you going to college for?” I ask.

  “I was pursuing a degree in Business Administration. It was the only path my father would permit me to take.”

  “What did you want to take?” I ask as we begin to pull off the interstate, taking the Bethlehem exit.

  “I don’t really know. With my mom’s death shaking my whole world up, I wanted to do something that wasn’t related to the family. But my father had plans for me, regardless of what I wanted. Alexei being the prime example,” she says with some heat in her voice.

  I think she’s been bottling her shit up for some time now. It was just the icing on the cake when her father tried to force her into a marriage she didn’t want. I have no clue how the fuck what I did was any different. Then again, she’s tried to kill me since then… Maybe she gets off on the violence just as much as I do.

  She sure fucked like it last night.

  “Well, we’ll be doing something with him as soon as I find the little dick bastard,” I grin as I look at her.

  She smiles, but it’s not exactly a warm one.

  “I just want to see how he fucking responds to being drugged up while someone pushes his ass around.”

  “I doubt I’ll be doing much pushing. I’ve got a feeling my fists will be doing most of the work.”

  We travel through the city in silence. This city is a lot like Garden city, except smaller and a little poorer. Lots of vice, though. I think at one time there were plans on taking over this city like Lucifer did with Garden, but I’m guessing the Russians are fucking that up.

  “So, being Callahan’s daughter… Besides the whole Russian pricks coming into the city, what else has been happening?” I ask.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she says, “I don’t know much. I know that a Mexican cartel has been pissing my father off because the uneasy truce with the Heralds of Hell seems to be breaking down…”

  “They’re still around?” I ask. “The Heralds of Hell? I remember they were having issues before I went to prison.”

  “Yeah, they’ve been operating on the fringes for some time now, but they offered help to my father when the Italians bombed us. He took them up on it, but with the Mexican cartel trying to take over all the drug trade in the city, it’s put a strain on him. The Heralds want more guns and manpower to fight with, and the Irish have been struggling to keep what property they can to themselves. Then you have the Russians pushing their way into the mix. It’s a powder keg, one match and this whole city will be at war.”

  Well, fuck me running. She’s knows more than I thought she did.

  Looking around the street I’m on, I spot a parking spot close to the Russian restaurant The Little Bear.

  “Gonna need you to take over driving in a minute,” I say as I reverse the truck into the parking spot.

  Directly ahead of us the sleepy little restaurant sits. It’s a small building, thankfully nothing on either side of it.

  “What? Why?” Meghan asks.

  “I need to go say hello to some friends, and I need you at the wheel,” I say as I pull the black bag from the backseat up to my lap.

  “I thought we did everything together,” she says with a frown.

  “We do, so that means you need to get us out of here as soon as I get in the truck,” I say and pull out four sticks of C-4.

  Grabbing the bag of ball-bearings, I hand Meghan two sticks of the explosive.

  Setting the bearings bag between us, I grab a handful and start pushing them into the explosive, trying to give it a good covering.

  “Can you do those two sticks?” I ask as I start on my second bar of the grayish plastic explosive.

  “What exactly are we doing?” she asks as she takes a handful of bearings and starts pressing them into the explosive.

  “Collateral damage. I want to make sure this place doesn’t get rebuilt.”

  “Oh.”

  Looking over the four long bars of C-4, I grin as I stuff them into a small black bag. After thinking for a moment, I end up pushing the rest of the metal ball bearings into the bag with it. Pushing detonators into each stick, I set them to blow from the little receiver I have in my pocket.

  “Be right back, keep the engine running,” I say.

  Jumping out of the truck, I look back and see Meghan climbing into the driver’s seat with a pensive look on her face. She’s more than likely questioning what exactly she signed up for. She’s about to see. I haven’t exactly killed anyone in front of her eyes yet, or had her kill anyone, but it’s only a matter of time before it happens.

  Putting a pleasant smile on my face as I cross the street, I head directly for the front door of the dimly lit restaurant. It’s looks just like I remembered, old and out of date. Still clinging to the past. Fuck, that sounds a bit like me if I’m being honest with myself. Old and out of date. Clinging to a past full of hurt and anger.

  Pushing the door inward, I stand there for a moment, allowing my eyes to acclimate to the dim lighting inside. The décor is straight out of a 60’s upscale restaurant. Except now it’s comes off as skeezy. The old-world tiling has lost its luster, and the paint on the walls has a thick coating of cigarette smoke. Even the chairs and tables look out of step with the world outside.

  Walking toward the small waiting area, I poke my head around the corner to peek inside the dining area. As I thought, it’s half-full of old men, relics of the Soviet era. More than likely a few old KGB sitting there.

  I watch as they all eat food slowly from their plates or take long drinks from glasses containing a clear alcohol. Vodka. They sure do love that shit.

  Looking down to my bag, I grin. This should work out just like I want. I don’t give a shit if these old men are really connected to Alexei. I just want to fuck with his money operations, and I want him to know I don’t care about collateral damage. I’m just here to have a fucking good time while I hunt his dumbass.

  I’ve got enough C-4 in the bag to level the whole building, and
probably more than that. Haven’t used it in a long time, so my memory is a bit fuzzy on what kind of damage I’m getting ready to cause.

  Kneeling down to the floor, I push the bag across the old world tile then grin as it quietly reaches about the midway mark of the dining room.

  Standing up from where I’m crouching, I head back to the front door. Time to move.

  And fuck.

  Some little old lady is getting ready to come in the door.

  Stepping quickly to the door, I flip the closed sign before I open it just enough to let myself out of the door.

  Looking down at the woman, I give her a frown.

  “Sorry, ma’am. I was just informed they’re closed for the day. Something about a gas leak from one of their grills,” I say, trying to be as unoffending as possible.

  As small as Meghan is, this little old lady looks even tinier.

  “That’s no good,” she says with a frown, looking past the door.

  “No, ma’am, but better safe than sorry, I think.”

  Turning to get her to move away from the door, I suggest, “How about I help you back to your car?”

  “You’re a good boy. My grandson used to be, now he’s too busy for me,” she says with a sigh.

  Reaching up, she takes my arm, and I slowly walk her toward the street light. “I’m sure he still thinks about you, though.”

  “Bah, he thinks of me for my money. But I’m too smart to give it away,” she ends with a grin.

  As we slowly cross the street, I look up to see Meghan gawking. Her eyes are as round as saucers as I wink at her.

  “Thank you, young man,” the little lady says as we reach her car.

  “My pleasure. As I said, better safe than sorry.”

  Walking back to my truck, I wait until I hear the little old lady’s car take off down the street before I push the detonate button on the little device in my pocket.

  The resounding concussion effect nearly knocks me off my feet as I jog over to the truck.

  Hopping into the passenger side, I give Meghan a grin. “She was a really sweet woman. Said I remind her of an old movie star,” I say as I motion for her to start driving. “Time to go, babe. No need to stick around here any longer.

  “Holy fucking shit,” Meghan mutters as she puts us the truck in drive and whips us out of the parking spot.

  When a second booming sound goes off, I snicker. I wonder if that was a gas main.

  13

  Meghan

  A huge cloud of smoke darkens the sky behind me. The street is littered with chunks of stone and other debris. People run out of the surrounding buildings with looks of shock and worry on their faces.

  My foot presses hard on the gas and the engine of the truck rumbles as I race away from the scene of the explosion.

  Once I’m a few blocks away, I manage to sneak a quick glance over at Gabriel.

  He’s leaned back in his seat, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

  I almost do a double take, but there’s so much traffic in front of me I’m afraid I’ll rear-end somebody.

  How can he be so fucking relaxed? So fucking happy after what he just did?

  My foot pushes harder on the gas, the need to get away from what’s behind me causing my heart to beat frantically.

  When he talked about collateral damage, I stupidly assumed he was blowing something up with no one in it. But I know there were people in that restaurant. I watched him walk an old lady out for Christ’s sake!

  Bile rises up in my throat and I have to swallow it back down a couple of times before I manage to ask, “So, how many people did I just help you kill?”

  Fuck. I’ve never killed anyone before.

  Out of the corner of my eyes I see Gabriel shrug his shoulders nonchalantly, like the body count is no big deal. “I’m not really sure.”

  “Can you at least guestimate?” I ask a little too shrilly, the need to know bordering on hysteria.

  How much blood do I have on my hands?

  I sense him stiffening beside me before he offers slowly, almost carefully, “I don’t know. Probably less than a dozen.”

  Probably less than a dozen… So I just helped him kill at the most eleven people…

  My hands tighten around the steering wheel, finding the grooves he’s already made in it.

  “Meghan,” he says, his voice heavy with worry. “Pull over, I’ll take over.”

  I shake my head and my foot pushes harder on the gas. I can’t let him take over. No, I can’t let him have control.

  Who knows what he’ll do next?

  First it was the church… and now this… and who knows how many before I even met him…

  He’s a psychotic murderer, and I fucked him.

  Oh god.

  I’m married to him.

  I blow through three more lights, seriously considering pulling over, popping the door open and shoving his big ass out.

  Guns don’t work, nor do knives. He’s like some horror movie monster that can’t be killed.

  I doubt he’d survive though if I ran him over with the truck.

  But then again, maybe he would…

  “Take the next left,” he says, but I’m so stuck in my head I miss the turn.

  He repeats my name a few times, trying to get my attention as I think of all the ways I could off him.

  I know he didn’t use all the C4. If I can get my hands on what’s in the back, I could shove it down his pants…

  “Meghan,” he finally growls menacingly.

  My eyes snap to him.

  “Take the next left.”

  I’m half-tempted to take the next right out of sheer obstinance, but maybe once I get him to wherever he wants to go, he’ll get out of the truck and I can drive off into the horizon.

  A girl can only hope.

  “Now take the next right,” he says after we drive down the road a mile or so.

  With a sigh, I hit the blinker and slow the truck down as I pull us into a parking lot.

  He jerks his chin toward a dark building sitting at the edge of the lot. “Park in front of there.”

  I do exactly as he says. I pull into one of the empty spots in front of the building and then put the truck in park.

  Releasing a deep breath, I stare ahead at the building. The place looks like some kind of grungy dive bar. The sign reads: The River Waters.

  I avoid glancing over at Gabriel as I wait for him to make the first move. I’m hoping he’ll get out without realizing I still have the truck running.

  As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, he reaches over and twists the keys out of the ignition.

  Damn.

  “Get out of the truck, Meghan,” he says, so close his warm breath brushes against my ear.

  I shiver and immediately hate myself for still being affected by him. He’s a murdering monster, yet my body doesn’t seem to know or care.

  The stupid thing still wants him.

  Seeking to escape his presence, I yank on the door handle and quickly slide out of my seat.

  Once my feet hit the ground, I’m filled with the overwhelming need to run. To escape this fucking madness.

  Before I even realize what I’m doing, my knees are pumping and my lungs are aching as I take off across the parking lot.

  Gabriel bellows my name.

  I don’t stop though, I can’t stop.

  I run so fast, so hard, I gas myself within a couple of minutes. I manage to make it to the very edge of the lot before I feel the ground thundering beneath my feet.

  A second later what feels like an iron bar wraps around my chest.

  I scream and flail as Gabriel yanks me off my feet and begins to drag me backward.

  My heels drag across the asphalt as I wail out, “Let me go!”

  Another iron bar wraps around me and his big palm slaps over my mouth.

  I try to bite him, try to kick him, but it’s fucking hopeless.

  Once again, I’m forced to face the crushing re
ality that I’m not strong enough to fight him off. This isn’t an action movie, and I’m not a genetically enhanced superwoman. Pure physics is working against me, and it sucks so fucking bad.

  Gabriel drags me all the way back to the truck then pushes me up against the door.

  Flipping me around, he drops one arm from around my chest.

  “Where the fuck are you going?” he huffs out as he cages me in.

  With his hand still slapped over my mouth, all I can do is snort and glare up at him.

  His jaw tenses with frustration. “What the fuck is the problem now?”

  “You,” I pant out as soon as he slides his hand off my mouth. “You’re the fucking problem, Gabriel. Just let me go!”

  I take a cheap shot at his shin, catching him off guard. He grunts and slaps his hand back over my mouth.

  Shaking his head, he looks at me like I’m some kind of alien creature he doesn’t understand. “How the fuck am I the problem? What the fuck did I do?”

  How can he not know?

  Without giving me a chance to respond, he keeps his hand firmly against my lips and asks as if he’s finally figuring it out, “Is it because I blew up that restaurant?”

  I glare up at him some more.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re pissed because I blew up a bunch of fucking Russians?”

  Ding, ding, ding. We have a fucking winner.

  “What the hell, Meghan?” he growls as he slides his hand off my mouth.

  Still panting, I take a second to lick my dry lips, then immediately regret it when I taste a hint of his skin.

  “It’s not that you blew up a bunch of fucking Russians,” I explain, though Lord knows I don’t owe him an explanation. “It’s that you just killed a bunch of people and made me an accomplice!”

  He frowns as he stares at me. “So you’re worried about getting busted and doin’ time? Well, don’t you worry your—”

  “No… yes. No!” I cut him off. “I don’t want to get busted and don’t want to do time, but that’s not why I want you to let me go.”

  His eyes flash, growing colder, icier, and he presses his body into me, crushing me against the truck. “I’m not fucking letting you go. Do I need to remind you again what you mean to me?”