by Harper Sloan
I suspect that Maddox has his own demons that follow him from his time in the Marines. I know he's highly decorated, but I also know that he suffered the worst out of all of us over there. The kind of shit that sticks to your skin and never, never lets go.
"Are you just going to stand there or do you actually plan on helping me clean up your shit? And where the hell is Cat?"
"Look, Mad, I know it looks bad--"
"Looks bad? This is what you think looks bad? My fucking flat screen is shattered! Want to tell me what in the hell happened?"
"Uh...okay."
He just stands there, his hands on his hips, and waits.
I'm not afraid of much. I've stared down the barrels of more guns than I can count. I've fought hand to hand with terrorists. I've defused bomb after bomb. But looking into the stone-cold depth of Maddox Locke's soul... Yeah, I'm man enough to admit that he scares the ever-loving shit out of me.
Not knowing the best way to even start explaining the clusterfuck of events that led up to the destruction of his pad, I start the best way I can--stuttering. "I... Well, you see. I...uh."
He looks at me, his jaw twitching with frustration, his eyebrow cocked, and his nostrils flaring with what I'm sure is pure, unleashed rage. Shit.
"I might have brought a chick home the other night. She may or may not have gotten a little upset when I basically told her to leave."
"You bought a chick home. To my house? A chick you don't know? To MY HOUSE!?"
"I know you're pissed, Mad. I'm sorry. I just...forgot."
"You just forgot?" he mimics. "When you just forgot, did you happen to be swimming in one of these many bottles that I keep picking up off the floor?"
Really, what's the point of responding to him? He knows--he fucking knows--how hard it's been. If anyone knows what it's like for me right now, it's him. Which is the reason I left Beck and Dee's place to begin with. I couldn't handle the looks of pure pity that would come from Dee or the talks Beck would try and throw my way.
I'm lost right now. Trapped in a black hole of nothing. Coop was the last thing I had, the last something real. With him gone, I just don't know what to live for. It sounds ridiculous even to me, I know, but he was everything I've ever lived for since the day our piece-of-shit mother decided that she loved being a cracked-out whore over a mother.
"This shit needs to stop."
I was so lost in my head I didn't even notice Maddox walking right into my space. We're both evenly matched in body and bulk, but I know he could snap me in half if he wanted to.
"Brother, I don't know how," I whisper.
"You don't know how to what?"
"I don't know how to move on. I don't know how to escape this...this darkness." My voice cracks, and even though it's the last thing I want, I crack right along with it. "He's gone, Mad. He's fucking gone and I don't know how to get past knowing that he's never going to come back. That my brother is dead. He's dead and I wasn't there to do a goddamn thing about it. You know where I was when I got that call? When I got the call telling me that I needed to get my ass here because it didn't look good? I was balls-deep in some bitch I'd picked up. While I was screwing around, my brother was bleeding out, and that is fucking killing me."
With tears falling down my face, my fists clamped tight, and my body rigid with anger, I crumble. I can't even meet his eyes, because if I see the same pity that everyone else has thrown my way in the months that have followed Coop's murder, I know I'll snap.
"Do you honestly think you're the only motherfucker who knows loss? Don't get me wrong. It fucking sucks that Coop is gone, but do you think he would want you wasting your life away, swimming in bottle after bottle and whore after whore? I know darkness, Asher. I know what it's like to live the same goddamn nightmare over and over again, but at some point, you need to wake the fuck up and realize there's more to live for." He shakes his head, looking off to the side and out the window of his apartment, where the sun is blazing bright.
Another reminder that life goes on.
"You're killing yourself for what? To keep your mind on some continuous loop of grief? Constantly beating yourself up over something you have no control over? He's dead, Ash. He's dead and there isn't anything you can do to bring him back. We all miss him--trust me on that. And pretty soon, if you don't turn yourself around, you will successfully drink yourself to your own death, and please tell me what the hell that will fucking accomplish?"
"What the fuck do you know about loss, Maddox?" I scream, losing my tight hold on the control that's been my only weapon against crumbling into nothing the last few months.
"I know every-fucking-thing about loss, Asher Cooper. I know what it's like to lose your family, your friends, your life like you've always known it, and yourself. I fucking know what it's like to have NOTHING, and trust me, what you feel right now is heavy, but it doesn't hold a fucking candle. Work out your shit. Talk it out, fight it out, but stop fucking drinking it out. When you're ready to take that step, you let me fucking know, but meanwhile, stop bringing sluts back to my house...and find my damn cat!"
He storms past me, knocking my shoulder so hard I fall right on my ass in the middle of his living room, and the only think I can think of is that he's fucking right, but I have no clue how to fix my life.
Chapter 6 - Asher
Why anyone would think I should be responsible for something breathing is beyond me. I can't even take care of my own damn self, and obviously I can't take care of anything else since I lost a cat. An indoor cat. There aren't many places this beast could hide either. I can hear Maddox slamming shit around and grumbling under his breath about me getting my shit together. Meanwhile, I've been crawling all over this damn apartment looking for his stupid cat.
And I say cat loosely since this thing is about forty pounds. I wonder if I can get by with telling everyone that his cat beast scratched me to hell and not some crazy chick.
"Come on, Cat. Come out wherever you are," I say through clenched teeth. Stupid damn animal.
I've checked the kitchen, the laundry room, and living and dining rooms. Nothing. I've looked in each bathroom and in Maddox's room. Surely I would have noticed a large cat living in the same space I had for the last seven days?
"Where is Cat, you idiot?" Maddox bellows through the apartment.
"Bastard," I grumble.
Just when I'm about to give up, I spot a fluff of fur move in the back, darkened corner of my closet. It's not hard to miss since it seems to be Maddox's stuff-all hole. There's box on top of box and even more crap piled on top of that.
"Come on, Cat. Your keeper is home."
"I'm not a fucking keeper. I should be the keeper of your ass. Bet you wouldn't get in half the trouble you seem to be getting into lately," Maddox's deep rumble says directly behind me, causing me to jump slightly and knock a bunch of boxes on top of my head.
"Motherfucker," I spit out.
I try to move the boxes out from on top of me. Maddox is no damn help since apparently I scared Cat enough to have her run over me, and I can hear Maddox cooing at her. Seriously, is he talking baby talk to a cat?
"A little help would be nice."
"Yeah, it would, wouldn't it," he calls on his way out the door.
I spend a good ten minutes trying to wiggle my wide frame out of the avalanche of boxes. When I finally get myself free, I spend some time picking up the mess that stupid cat caused. I refuse to believe that I did this, but I still feel like shit for trashing Maddox's house.
Right when I finish up, I catch something out of the corner of my eye. Bending over, I pick up the picture that must have fallen out of one of the boxes. Turning over the picture, I see a younger, happier, Maddox Locke. His arms, minus the tattoos that heavily cover them now, are wrapped around a tiny, blonde chick and he's smiling a smile I've never seen on his face. He doesn't have one ounce of the heaviness that cloaks him every second now. No, in this picture, he is the example of a man happy and in love.
"Where the fuck did you find that?"
Before I even have a second to reply, the picture is ripped out of my hands and crushed inside his fist.
"Want to talk about that?"
"Do you want to talk about your shit?"
I shake my head, knowing that I should but that I'm not there yet...and I'm not sure if I will be anytime soon.
"Is that part of your nightmares?"
"This is my fucking nightmare."
He storms from the room, slamming the door hard enough that the walls shake.
I let myself fall back on my ass and lean up against the bed, my head falling to my hand before rolling it to pop some of the tension from my neck.
Three months ago, everything seemed so simple. When the hell did I start living some soap opera shit for my life? I know he's right, and he clearly knows what it's like to be living hell on Earth. I've known him for years and this is the first time he's ever let me see anything that could be haunting him.
Maybe he's right. I need to start moving forward, but I know in order to do that, I have to make sure I've done everything I can to avenge my brother. Right or wrong, it's what I need to do.
So with a new resolve to start moving forward from this limbo I've been stuck in, I pull myself off the floor and start pouring out every bottle of liquor I have stashed around my room and his apartment.
***
Walking into Heavy's for the gang's weekly family dinner is the last thing I want to be doing right now. I've spent the last four days going over all of the information I have gathered thus far on Coop's murder. Or I should say the man behind the snowball that formed into a massive boulder of events that led up to his death.
Dominic Murphy.
That sorry piece of shit has his finger on literally everything gun and drug related in the southeast. Until recently, he's been like a ghost, completely untraceable. That was until I finally caught a break. It caused me to cash in just about every single favor I've ever collected over the years. As a bounty hunter, I've established relationships with a lot of men I'm lucky to have on my side. Everything from FBI, DEA, and a few local cops here and there.
Dom's been spotted most recently right here in Atlanta. Last night, I was lucky enough to have some surveillance footage of him at a local bar sent to me. I know what he looks like, what his security team looks like, right down to what he had for breakfast. And now that I know where to find him, nothing will stop me from taking the next steps I need to seek my revenge for Coop.
"Asher!"
I turn just in time to catch the slim body that is smashing into mine. The overwhelming stench of cheap perfume hits my nose at the same time that her large tits are crushing against my side. I put my arm up to brace her impact, but the only thing I succeed in doing is helping her mold her body closer to mine.
"Hey, baby, did you miss me?"
I just stare at her, and I can almost picture my face. My mouth slack, my eyes confused and slowly blinking, and my brows crinkled in either shock or disgust at myself because I have no idea who this woman is. Clearly she knows me, given that one hand is possessively on my ass and the other is about two seconds away from making purchase on my cock.
And I honestly have no idea if I should be more shocked that I have no clue who she is or that my cock is oblivious to her. She's attractive enough--a tight, trim body, large tits, and legs that could wrap around my body twice. Given the fact that she is wearing next to nothing, she would be a guaranteed sure thing and the typical type of woman I've been going after for as long as I can remember. She's the type of woman who's good for sinking yourself into, but not for conversation. The kind who, if I had a mother worth taking someone home to, you would without a doubt keep far away.
I look over at the group. All of them, even the babies, seem to be staring at me in shock, but I only have eyes for one of them. The blonde who's haunted my every fantasy since the day I met her. Those brown eyes as dark as rich mocha boring into my own. She's never been good at hiding how she feels, which is why I know that the attraction I feel for her is far from one-sided, but right now, the pain that is flickering back at me shocks me even more than the woman mauling me in the middle of Heavy's.
"Did you miss me, baby?" she whispers huskily in my ears.
Her warm, wet breath hits my skin and causes a chill of revulsion to run through my body--which she clearly takes as encouragement, unfortunately, since that damn hand that was tracing each one of my abs starts making its way past my belt.
Chelcie's eyes widen, and before I can make sense of her expression, the woman next to me curls her hand roughly against my flaccid cock, squeezing so hard that I have to suck in a deep breath of shock and pain, again doing nothing but encouraging her to keep going. With one of her hands digging into my backside and the other doing its best to rip my dick off through my pants, she leans up and bites my earlobe between her teeth.
The shock keeps me rooted--silently--in place, but when I see a single tear roll down Chelcie's beautiful cheek, I quickly start to detangle myself from the leech at my side.
"Oh come on, Asher. You liked it rough the last time," she pouts in the most annoying baby talk I've ever heard.
"Babe, I hate to break it to you, but I don't even remember who you are." Figuring that honesty is the best road to travel right now, I give it to her as politely as I can without just telling her that she was a warm hole my drunken mind needed.
"Excuse me?"
"Which part of that didn't you understand?" I ask.
"Oh shit," I hear Axel laugh behind me.
"You idiot," Melissa mumbles under her breath.
"Sweet Jesus, even I know if I loved the ladies like you hunks of sex, THAT is definitely not the right way to handle all of that hot mess," Sway dramatically adds.
I turn around and glare at all of them quickly before returning my attention to the chick basically vibrating with anger.
"It's Pammy," she seethes.
Pammy? Jesus Christ, does every one of the chicks I sleep with have to have a name that screams, 'Bimbo'?
"Right, Pammy. I don't mean to be a jerk, but I really have no idea who you are." I try to smile, but when I see the look of crazy-bitch come across her face, I know that things are about to get ugly. "Stop," I say harshly under my breath, "whatever is about to fly out of that pretty little mouth of yours, babe. In case you missed this, there are kids in your presence. I'm sure their parents are already going to lay into me since you decided to relearn your basic male anatomy while standing right in front of them, so the last thing I need is for you to start running that mouth of yours."
Her eyes turn glacial, and I know--I just know--that she didn't hear a word I just said. Fuck. Me.
"You knew my name just fine A WEEK ago when you were driving that thick cock inside me." She reaches up and attempts to slap me, but I quickly catch her around her slim wrist.
Braving a look around the table behind me wouldn't be the best move. I can feel the energy getting electric as the group takes in what just flew out of her mouth. A few shocked gasps, deep mumbles of outrage, and one high-pitched laugh that I know belongs to Sway.
I close my eyes and drop my head when I hear Cohen speak.
"Daddy! Roosters can't drive!"
Looking up, I narrow my eyes at Pammy before pulling her away from the table with her wrist still in my hand. She practically has to run to keep up with me in those damn shoes she has on, but I'm so pissed that I don't even care if she trips and falls.
Chapter 7 - Chelcie
"Roosters can't drive, little dude. She was talking about a movie that Uncle Asher took her to," Greg utters as calmly as he can to a very curious Cohen.
The rest of the table is in a mix of anger and hilarity over the scene we just witnessed between Asher and one of his many whores. And I say whores because that's exactly what they are. No woman I've ever had the displeasure of watching him hook up with has ever looked like she has an ounce of self-respect. They're always so...fake. Hug
e breasts, big butts, and tiny waists. One thing he doesn't ever discriminate against is their hair color, so hey, at least he keeps an open mind. Disgusting.
There was a time when I felt like he could be the one. A time when he wasn't drunk and sleeping with every easy lay that spread her legs for him. It didn't happen often, but those rare moments when I would catch him sober were some of the greatest.
"Someone needs to talk to him. This is getting out of control, Ax. I'm shocked that he even remembered what day it is to show up tonight," Izzy says to her husband.
"Clearly he ran out of liquor," Dee speaks from across the table.
Beck shakes his head and reaches over her shoulder to pull her closer to his body.
"How do you forget the name of someone that you sleep with?" Sway questions.
"Hell if I know. I remember all of the ladies I've had the pleasure of," Greg chimes in after making sure Cohen is distracted with Nate, Axel and Izzy's two-year-old son.
"Pig," Melissa, his wife, smiles at him.
I allow myself a second to feel the wave of jealousy wash over my body before quickly putting it back where it belongs--locked in a box deep inside me.
"When was the last time anyone even saw him without the stench of alcohol oozing out of his skin?" Davey asks.
He, like me, is pretty new to the group. He started as the front office assistant to the guys at Corps Security when Emmy left. Out of everyone who had a hard time after Coop's death, Emmy might have taken it the hardest. Coop took the bullet that had been meant for her, and I can't even begin to put myself in her shoes. I hate that she left abruptly, but I understand why she did.
"He's been drinking nothing stronger than Coke for the last three days," Maddox says, speaking over the group and gaining every single one of our eyes. But he isn't looking at anyone else except me.
His expressionless face is just boring into mine, his eyes clearly trying to communicate some kind of hidden message for me alone. I frown at him, not picking up on his underlying meaning.
"You don't say?" Beck responds dryly.
"Completely drink free?" I don't know who said it; I'm too busy meeting Maddox's eyes without breaking, trying desperately to understand what he's telling me.