Shoot The Moon (Scorpio Stinger MC Book 6)

by Jani Kay

  “You go to the toilet first so you can get the bag when you finish. I can’t wait to get out of here and get rid of this hair.” Mia pushed back the blonde locks of the wig that had stuck to her cheeks. It was hot and humid. The ventilation in the bathroom wasn’t exactly effective and droplets of sweat ran down my back.

  As I stared into the mirror at my reflection, my mascara already smudged and making me look like a panda bear, I fanned my face with my purse. I was over being a redhead, too.

  I just wanted to wash the shit off my face and get into bed. Standing on my toes, I reached into the locker to retrieve my backpack. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the creepy guy walk into the bathroom and froze for a few seconds. What the hell was he doing inside the ladies’ room?

  “Get out,” he said in a gruff voice as he shoved two women out and locked the door.

  What the fuck?

  “Hey, this is the women’s bathroom,” Mia said, looking up from the basin where she was washing her hands. “No men allowed.”

  His top lip curled into an evil grin. “Wrong, babe. I can go wherever the fuck I like.”

  Mia swung around and put a fist on her hip. “Get out now. You’re not funny.” She pressed her lips into a thin line and her eyes blazed. It was pretty clear she’d reached her limit for the night.

  The guy laughed out loud. Laughed. The fool.

  “You’re a feisty one, Mrs. Malone.”

  Mia’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Every hair on the back of my neck stood up straight.

  “Don’t look so shocked. I know exactly who you are, bitches.” He took a few steps toward Mia and plucked the wig from her head with force. She shrieked and a crackle filled the air as her own hair flung in all directions.

  I stepped forward. “What the fuck do you want? Money? Booze?” I dug into the backpack. “Here. I’ve got both. Leave M . . . um, leave her alone, I’ll give you cash and a flask of vodka.”

  My mouth went dry as he lunged forward and grabbed the backpack out of my hands and emptied the contents onto the floor. Lipstick rolled under the counter. My favorite red. That shit was fucking expensive, but I just watched it lie there, my feet frozen to the spot.

  “You won’t be needing any of this crap where you’re going, sweetheart,” he snarled.

  “You’re being ridiculous,” Mia said, her voice hard and cold. “I’m going home.” She bent forward and reached for her sneakers. The dude kicked them away from her and grabbed hold of her hair, twisting his long thin fingers into the strands and yanking her head back.

  “Look at my face, bitch. Does it look like I’m joking?” He gripped Mia’s chin and turned her head roughly toward him. “Take a good look, because mine will be the last face you see.”

  I narrowed my eyes and stared at him. Pock marks covered his cheeks. Slowly recognition permeated my fuzzy brain. I’d seen him before that night but I couldn’t remember where, other than earlier when I’d caught him gawking at me.

  Mia sucked in a breath. “Who are you?”

  He laughed, low and soft. It was eerie.

  Scary as fuck.

  “Finally got your attention, have I?”

  I took a step forward, and he held up his right hand. “Stay there, bitch. Don’t fucking move if you don’t want me hurting you.” His fingers tightened around Mia’s hair and he jerked hard until her eyes watered. His lips curled into a satisfied snarl. “And if either of you scream, or try anything stupid, I’m going to make sure you’re sorry. Very fucking sorry.”

  I leaned my hip against the counter for support. My knees were about to give in and fold under me.

  “Tell us who you are and what you want?” I said, my voice sounding far away and not like mine at all.

  “If you really must know, I’m Zappo, from Daemon’s club. I’m finally going to avenge his death. I know you’re the bitch who killed my friend.” He paused for a long moment. “I was there. Saw everything.”

  All the air squeezed from my lungs and my head spun. This was the reason the boys were so paranoid about keeping us safe. The reason we were in lockdown. Why we had to stay at the compound.

  Finally, I understood.

  But it was too late.

  Zappo had a switchblade in his hand, holding it against Mia’s smooth throat.

  My gaze snapped to Mia’s. Her eyes were wild. How the fuck where we going to get out of this?

  I was responsible for what was happening. If it weren’t for me and my stupid ideas, we’d both be back at the compound in our beds, asleep. My body ached for my bed. I just wanted to rest my head on my pillow and shut everything out. Give over to the alcohol taking over my brain. If I closed my eyes, maybe it would all go away and I’d wake up to find that it was just a bad dream.

  The realization hit me that I hadn’t had nightmares for a long time. In fact, since I’d been in Razor’s bed, the dreams usually plaguing my sleep had subsided. What a strange thing that I only became aware of it in that moment.

  I had to fight back. Do something. I couldn’t let a crazy fuck like Zappo be the end of us. It was ludicrous.

  “Hey, I feel sick,” I moaned. “I’m just going to drink some water and splash my face, okay?” I said, my tongue slurring the words while trying my best to hide the fear that had taken hold of me and was rattling my insides.

  He dropped the hand holding the knife and nodded his head, watching me through narrowed eyes. “Go ahead. Don’t try anything funny. I’m watching you.”

  As if I didn’t know. His gaze burned into me, branding my skin.

  On shaky legs I took a slow step forward. At least the knife wasn’t against Mia’s throat. She’d gone slack and her dark eyes pleaded with me to do something.

  Zappo stood over Mia, his filthy boot on her thigh holding her in place. “You, my beauty, are my lovely prize,” he said as if he’d just handed me a bunch of roses. “After I slit this fucking bitch’s throat, I’m taking you home with me.” He waggled his eyebrows and gave me a nauseating grin. “You’re my bitch now.”

  My stomach lurched and I folded inward. Reaching for the basin, bile rose in my throat and I spewed a night’s worth of liquor into the white porcelain. I wretched until my stomach was empty and my heart filled with despair.

  I opened the cold water faucet and let the vomit wash down the drain, then I rinsed my mouth a few times before splashing my face.

  It’s all my fucking fault. All because I couldn’t just listen and follow the rules. I disobeyed the MC laws. I defied Razor. I dragged Mia with me.

  And now we’re screwed. Quite literally. Zappo had plans for us both I couldn’t stomach. The way he fucked me with his eyes made my skin crawl, but killing Mia . . .

  No. No, no, no.

  There had to be a way I could stop him.

  I sank to my knees and groaned. My fingers wrapped around the lipstick tube in front of me and I clasped it to my chest while I rolled into a ball.

  Drool hung from my lips. “Paper,” I grunted as I got to my feet and grabbed some from the counter. “Oh shit, I’m going to vomit again.”

  I staggered to the toilet and leaned over the bowl. The vile smell of urine and alcohol hit my nostrils and I dry wretched with a gurgling noise.

  This was my chance. I popped the cap off the lipstick and wrote on the paper with shaking fingers, nearly dropping the red tube.

  Zappo’s voice startled me. “Hey, you okay in there?” Heavy footsteps were coming my way.

  I quickly folded the paper into a small square and hid it between my breasts. What I was going to do with it, I had no idea, but grasping for straws was all I had.

  Crazy eyes explored my face before his gaze traveled up and down my body. “You’re fucking perfect. Just perfect.” He rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait to fuck you, baby. You’re mine now.”

  His palm cradled my chin and he squeezed my cheeks hard with his fingers as he licked over my face with long strokes of his tongue. I shivered. Oh God, let me die too.r />
  With a steel like grip, he wrapped his fingers around my neck and squeezed. Stars scattered across my vision and I gasped for air. His lips bruised my neck then grazed along my jaw, and he chuckled as I struggled against him.

  “I knew you’d be a fighter. You have no fucking idea how much it turns me on.”

  My body went limp, partly because I didn’t want to give him what he wanted and partly because I was close to passing out from lack of oxygen.

  18 — Razor

  What I hadn’t told Lexi, was that I’d planned a surprise for her. The first stop I made was at the tattoo shop. I already had an idea in my head of what I wanted, and all Bones had to do was use his artistic talents to bring it to life.

  “Hey, Razor, you look good, asshole,” he said as I walked into his small shop sandwiched between a bakery and a realtor.

  His girlfriend, Roxy, looked up from the tattoo she was drawing on a woman’s leg. It looked like a butterfly or something with wide wings. “Hey!” She gave me a huge smile. “Nah, he looks fucking great!” she said winking to the female client. The two of them giggled together to Bones’ annoyance and he gave his woman the hairy eyeball as if he’d be dealing with her later for flirting with me.

  I watched her work for a moment, then turned my attention to the master of tattoos. I pointed to the side of my head. “I’m here for a bit of skin art. I want it right here. Starting on my neck and going into the part where I’ve shaved off my hair.”

  “That’s fucking hot,” Roxy said, grinning. “What design do you have in mind?”

  Bones kinda growled at her and narrowed his eyes in warning at me. He was a jealous prick and didn’t like men checking out Roxy, but how could they not when she was as hot as fuck and dressed the way she did. Bones wasn’t a young man either, he was a scrawny motherfucker in his mid-forties, and his face looked as if someone had hit it with a shovel.

  It always amused me how a man like him managed to have a gorgeous fucking girlfriend like Roxy. She wasn’t the average kinda woman. Adorned with tats from head to toe, she had big tits, a tiny waist and a wide easy smile. Her skills as a tattoo artist were improving too and I noticed several new awards lined the wall behind her.

  “I want roses, a heart and my woman’s name. And a skull if you can work one in.”

  “Roses? Wow, that’s unexpected, biker boy,” Roxy cooed, batting her eyelids at me. Fuck, she was cute. If I weren’t already smitten by Spitfire, I’d wrestle Bones for her any day of the week. But he was safe and so was Roxy. Nobody could take Lexi’s place, not even the hot little number eye fucking me.

  Bones smirked, pointing a long thin finger at me. “You have a girlfriend? What’s her name?”

  Maybe he didn’t believe I had a woman, because I’d sworn I’d never have a chick’s name engraved into my flesh when he’d asked me before.

  “It’s Lexi. Lexi Clarke.”

  “Lexi?” Roxy said in a high-pitched tone. “I did her last piece of ink. The one on her left boob.”

  I raised an eyebrow and grinned. “That’s your work? It’s fucking awesome. I love it.” Especially when I had my tongue and lips all over her tits.

  “Yeah. She said it had special meaning to her . . . the flying birds symbolize her freedom.”

  That was my girl. Free. Spirited. I hated that Cobra said to keep her in the cage.

  I was in two minds to get the work done by Roxy instead of Bones because I liked her style a lot. But as I flipped through the pictures on the counter of his latest work, I decided against it. The man was a fucking genius and his talent unsurpassed. Every piece he did was unique. He was also the most expensive tattooist in LA, but he was worth every dime.

  And I wasn’t sure he’d like his girlfriend working on my cock, because I hadn’t disclosed yet that was where I wanted Lexi’s name inked.

  Bones and I got into a discussion and I explained my vision to him while he made a few rough sketches. After ten minutes of ironing out the details, he said, “Go grab a drink at the bar while I come up with a few designs. Then if you’re happy with those, we can get you inked later this afternoon. I can squeeze you in between two of my other clients.”

  After two beers, I went back to where Bones sat huddled over a piece of paper. His posture looked awkward, and he hummed a tune as he worked, seemingly oblivious to everything around him.

  “What you got?” I said as I approached, not wanting to startle him.

  He straightened his back. “I think ya gonna fucking love it. I do.” His bony fingers traced over the design before he shoved the paper toward me.

  My mouth fell open. Fuck me. It was exactly what I wanted. He’d captured everything I’d told him and I couldn’t wait to get the ink done.

  “You know the one on ya cock is gonna hurt, yeah?”

  “Dude, I have eight piercings on my cock. I’m fucking tough as nails.”

  “Hmmm, is that so?” He gave me a crooked smile that said he thought otherwise. “I remember putting them there. Never heard so much cussing in my life.” He waggled that gaunt finger at me again. “This gonna hurt ten times more. You think you can handle it?”

  “Sure. It’s a piece of piss.”

  Bones laughed hard. “That’s what all the tough-guy types say. Until I have you in my chair. Then you fucking cry like a girl.”

  I shook my head, gritting my teeth. “Not me.”

  I looked over the designs again. “How long will it take? I gotta get back to the club before dark.”

  “Five hours at least. We start at four.”

  “Fuck. That’s too late. And five hours? Jesus fuck, that’s a long time to sit still.”

  Bones raised a scraggly eyebrow. “You want these tats or not?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be here a bit early so we can get started. I have some business downtown and I’ll be back after.”

  I had shit to do, so I got to my feet. The door’s bell tinkled as I left the place.

  *****

  It had taken me a while to find Wolf. I finally tracked him and Scarface at a seedy downtown bar sitting with two old whores who should long have retired.

  What a place to spend an afternoon.

  The damp room reeked of despair, vomit and piss. Was I the only one who noticed or found it offending? My eyes adjusted to the darkness of the place and I took a quick look around. Slime-green paint peeled off the walls to reveal another layer underneath. Pumpkin-orange. Whoever chose the décor had seriously bad taste or else was color-blind.

  Slapping a hundred dollar bill on the counter, I bought a round of drinks and then another to settle the nausea in my stomach. By the third round I’d managed to get rid of the whores so that we could start talking business.

  I trusted Wolf and the Mexican more than most informants because so far the best information I’d gotten had been from this unlikely duo. It seemed they had connections everywhere and for the right price, the information could be bought.

  It didn’t come cheap. I didn’t mind paying, provided the info was useful. Wolf could’ve been a wealthy man if he didn’t piss out all the money he earned on alcohol and whores.

  After I imagined I’d plied them with enough alcohol, I started my line of questioning. Everything went well until I mentioned the Irish. Scarface’s eyes bugged out of his head and the welted scar that ran from his eyebrow to his chin seemed as if it was ready to pop.

  It had taken me another hour and hundreds of dollars to get the info I wanted. The Irish had a reputation I kinda envied. He had as many enemies as he had clients. Everyone who was in the market for a hitman preferred to work with him and he’d become something of a feared urban legend.

  “How do I find him?” I asked Wolf.

  Scarface laughed. He sounded like a fucking hyena. “You don’t understand. Nobody finds The Irish. He finds you.”

  I was aware of the underground world on the dark Net, but I had no fucking clue as how to use it myself. That was Hammer’s job. I just wanted to pay and get the fucki
ng info first hand.

  “Find him. I wanna know where he is. Can you do that?”

  Wolf rubbed his thumb and index finger together in the universal sign for money.

  I laughed. “I pay when I get results. Get me the info and we’ll talk again.”

  “We get a deposit? Fifty percent upfront.”

  I reached into my inner pocket and brought out a wad of cash. Thank fuck I came prepared. “Ten thousand dollars cash. The rest when I get a call with answers.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “And I want the info yesterday.”

  Wolf pushed to his feet, scraping up the money and shoving it into his inner pockets. “We better get moving then.” I watched both men leave the bar. I needed to take a piss and get back to Bones. I couldn’t wait to get out of the filthy place that left my skin crawling. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I greedily sucked fresh air into my lungs.

  My meeting with Wolf hadn’t taken as long as I’d thought and I got back to Bones’ shop thirty minutes before I was due.

  Roxy had shaved the areas to be tattooed and proceeded to clean my skin with a special solution so that Bones could start straight away. She made small talk and flirted like crazy, while she did my head, and then told me to take my pants off.

  “You sure you ready for this?”

  “I’ve lost count how many cocks I’ve seen doing this job.” She smirked. “One more won’t make any difference.”

  No wonder Bones was such a prickly bastard. I’d hate for Lexi to handle other men’s dicks, job or not.

  “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  I dropped my pants and underwear and swung around.

  She swallowed hard and her gaze trained on my half erected prick. What did she expect—I was only a man and I had eyes in my head.

  Her jaw dropped when she took in the piercings. “Impressive, huh?” I teased. I chuckled out loud, unable to hide my amusement as she licked her lips. “Bones doesn’t have as many?”

  She shook her head, her gaze glued to my cock. “It might be a little tricky to clean your skin,” she said in a croaky voice.

  “Just give me the stuff, sweetheart, I’ll do it.” I winked at her. “You can watch to see if I do it right.”