OWNED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blood Warriors MC)

by Naomi West

  The alley was fairly long, open on one end to connect to the street where Garcia pulled in. There was a chain-linked fence on the other side, presumably to stop anyone from accessing the buildings behind, but it was half knocked down at this point, easily allowing anyone to get through. There were two dumpsters against the wall on left hand side of the alley and cardboard boxes strewn around haphazardly throughout.

  I couldn’t say that the location was uncommon for a meet like this, but something about it felt off. As soon as the van stopped, we all rushed to get out. I looked closely at the far end of the alley. It was dark and I could only just make it out but there seemed to be a set of bikes parked just where the fence had broken down.

  “Are those bikes?” Pedro asked, starting to raise his gun in uncertainty.

  We were meant to arrive first, so I could understand his apprehension. Taking a few careful steps forward in unison, my eyes darted crazily around us as I tried to capture even a flicker of movement.

  I couldn’t specifically pinpoint anything but there was something off about the atmosphere, a calm-before-the-storm type of feeling that hung heavily in the air around us. We had only managed to take three more steps forward when it happened.

  They jumped out of seemingly nowhere, flashes filling my vision as shots were fired from both sides. Someone yelled in pain and I lifted my gun to shoot at a man running towards me.

  “Move!” Garcia shouted.

  All four of us leapt toward the large dumpsters and used them as cover as we aimed around and over.

  It was a complete ambush. We were entirely outnumbered. There were maybe ten of Steele’s men, all shooting directly at the four of us. There was no way we would be getting out of there alive.

  I stood up in a flash, shooting twice over the top of the dumpster and dropping back down once I hit a target.

  “There’s too many of them,” I shouted above the gunfire.

  Pedro and Lucien apparently had the same idea, nodding to each other with solemn expressions before running out into the fray.

  “What are they doing?” I asked Garcia.

  “We’re fucked, Weston. Outnumbered completely. They know that. Pedro and Lucien are loyal to me, they’ll do what’s necessary.”

  I peered around the corner as I spotted them running forward and shooting left and right with tremendous skill. One, two, three, four men dropped like flies to the ground.

  “Fuck,” I muttered as one of our boys collapsed. A moment later they were both out.

  “How many are left?”

  “Three, I think. Steele was hit in the arm. He might have taken off. Axle Verano’s dead too; that was Lucien.”

  “Who?”

  “Jason’s right hand man. If anything, that’ll set him back a while.”

  As we spoke, a man came charging around the dumpster, gun raised and shooting. He only managed one shot before my arm came up of its own volition and a bullet flew right into the man’s head.

  “That was close,” I said.

  Garcia didn’t reply and I turned my head to see him clutching his chest in stunned silence as blood oozed out from beneath his fingers.

  “Shit. We need to get out of here. Look the van’s right there, we can make a run for it.”

  “Right,” he agreed.

  Garcia and I looked at each other and with a nod of agreement we dashed out from our cover and to the van, shooting blindly behind us. Thankful that we were relatively safe, I sped off away from the street, paying no mind to the bullets that were hitting the back of the van. As soon as we were a few streets away I pulled over and turned my attention to Garcia.

  Not really knowing what I was doing, I tried to put pressure on the wound but there was just blood everywhere, spilling out of him like a faucet. Ignoring how unlikely it would be that he’d survive, I pressed both hands to the bullet hole, staunching the blood flow as much as I could.

  “It’ll be alright. Look I’ll call an ambulance now—”

  “Weston, shut up. We both know I’m not getting out of this alive. I have something to tell you.”

  Even facing certain death, the man was a pain in my ass.

  “What?”

  “Jason Steele wasn’t the reason your father died.”

  “What?” I repeated, in outrage now. This was the worst time to bring this up. If Garcia wasn’t already dying, then I’d be tempted to wring his neck. “Yes, he was, what are you talking about?”

  “It wasn’t Steele. Cameron Weston was behind it all,” he panted, the words were coming out fainter now, with longer pauses between.

  “No, you’re lying.”

  “You have to look past what you can see, kid. Not everything’s always black and white. Cameron hated Billy, always had. You spent two minutes in their company and you realized two things. Billy was too soft when it came to his brother, and Cameron doesn’t have a heart.” Garcia was gasping for breath now but determined to continue. “Cameron asked me to take Billy out and blame it on Jason. He wanted to work together and I agreed. It was a good tactical move but more trouble than it was worth. Cameron’s obsessed with power and money. The Satan’s Wings aren’t enough for him, he wants to start a war and take over the Nightmare MC too.”

  “But … this whole time he’s been trying to stop a war. He’s always saying how he doesn’t want to lose his men.”

  Garcia snorted. “He’d love a war. And he’d love you to start it. Then you and Jason would be out of the picture and he could control both clubs.”

  I shook my head against the pile of information I was receiving from Garcia. There was no way it was true. My uncle was a good man and he loved my dad. They were brothers, there was no way he would betray him like that.

  “If that’s true, what about the ambush tonight?”

  I’d gotten him now, I was sure of it. How could he explain the ambush and the fact that he’d gotten shot?

  “That, I’m not sure of. Cameron really does want Jason dead. This hit would’ve gotten rid of him and kept you in line. Didn’t work out, though. Someone at your end must have snitched.”

  Snitched? No way.

  Everyone I’d told was solid. Cameron knew, but this wouldn’t serve his interests. Daria knew but she would never betray me. That only left…

  No. Absolutely not.

  There was no way that Michael would ever give me up, especially not for a rival club. He lived for the Satan’s Wings, and his dad was so important to him. How could he betray us like that? He was like my brother.

  I suppressed a snort; apparently, family meant little to anyone these days. The thought of telling Mack about his son brought a pain to my chest. How could he?

  I looked back down at Garcia to find him breathing quicker and in shorter bursts.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I said, mostly in an attempt to keep him alive and talking.

  “Baby Weston, you’ve got a lot to learn and I’ve got nothing to lose,” he wheezed. “Besides, I’ve always hated Cameron but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to see him in hell.”

  He was barely moving his chest now, just lying there motionless.

  “Stay with me Garcia. You can’t die on me now.”

  I shook him a little but I couldn’t even hear his breaths now. My fingers met his neck and I couldn’t feel a pulse.

  “Garcia,” I shouted. “Jose!”

  I knew there was no point. He was dead.

  “Fuck,” I said to myself.

  What was I going to do now?

  Hating myself for it, I drove back to the alleyway and climbed out of the van. Thankfully any of Steele’s men that were still alive had left and all that remained now were bodies.

  I surveyed the carnage that had resulted from the meet. So much guilt was building up inside me. If I’d realized about Cameron earlier… He was going to pay. I wouldn’t let him get away with manipulating me any longer.

  Garcia deserved better, they all did, but I couldn’t do anything about it now. Steeling
myself, I heaved Garcia out of the van and placed him close to the other bodies. When he was found in the morning it would look like just another shooting between rival gangs.

  How could everything have gone so wrong? The shooting was bad enough but was I really supposed to just believe everything Garcia had spouted to me? He had no reason to lie, not on his deathbed. It would answer the numerous questions I’d had over the past few months about Cameron and the little things that didn’t seem to add up.

  Turning on the spot, I took a moment to assess the situation I’d found myself in. It was like everything I’d ever believed was a lie. Cameron killed my dad, Michael had betrayed me, Garcia was dead. I couldn’t wrap my head around it all. I was just a pawn in my uncle’s big plans. My only family left and he’d never cared about me.

  I needed to get home. I needed to get to Daria, who knew if she was in any kind of trouble. I’d always known that she was my one vulnerability and I had to get to her as fast as I could.

  Climbing on my bike, I sped off towards Springville, praying that I’d already gone through the worst for the night.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Daria

  Where was he?

  Sunset had fallen in the town of Springville several hours ago, cloaking the streets with a thick darkness that seemed deeper and more sinister than usual. It was coming up on nine o’clock and normally, the shop would have been closed several hours ago. Not today though. Today I had spent pacing back and forth in Rocky’s shop, paying no heed to any tasks, bills or orders that needed to be taken care of. I had much more important things on my mind.

  Where was he?

  It had been hours since Rocky left. He’d promised that he’d be back soon but I wasn’t going to believe it until he was standing alive and well in my arms. Tonight was the night that Rocky had planned to meet up with Jason Steele and carry out the hit.

  I was beginning to get anxious.

  Who was I kidding? I was anxious the second he’d placed a foot out the door.

  I turned on my heel and began another lap around Rocky’s workshop. It wasn’t too long ago when I was here pacing exactly like I was now, waiting for Rocky to come back to me. The last time was when Rocky and his uncle had met with Garcia at the warehouse and that had turned out fine so maybe I was just overreacting. He was probably fine anyway. He’d spent a long time talking about how easy a hit that was going to be.

  In a way, it churned my stomach to know that Rocky was out trying to kill someone at that very moment. On the other hand, it was Rocky, and I couldn’t ever hide how much I would be willing to overcome to remain with him.

  He had insisted that it would be the so simple he would be back by dinner but it was a lot later than what I’d expected. He could’ve just been dishonest for my sake but I had a feeling that Rocky wasn’t purposefully lying to me. He really did think he would get home in time. And that only left a few other possibilities of what had happened, none of them looking too positive.

  I couldn’t help the way my chest tightened with fear. Something didn’t feel right. Call it a woman’s intuition or just superstition, I knew something wasn’t right. It had been way too long for Rocky not to come back. And he would’ve called by now if he could.

  That thought almost earned a scoff from me. Rocky was the worst when it came to calling or texting or even answering. If he even had a phone on him it was a miracle.

  I wandered over to the single window of Rocky’s workshop that faced the street and peered through a slat in the closed shutters. The street was quiet outside, just what I would expect at this time of night in Springville. I kept an eye out hoping that Rocky would come racing down on his motorbike at any moment but when he didn’t, I backed away from the window with a groan of frustration.

  Where was he?

  Normally, I would’ve been at the hotel with my mom, but I’d told Rocky I would wait here for him to get back. I didn’t want to miss him when he returned and I also wanted to be there for him in case he needed me. Despite Rocky’s constant talk of vengeance, I knew he was a better man than what he thought of himself, and I knew he would have mixed feelings about Steele’s death.

  Maybe that was what was going on.

  Maybe he felt confused and needed some time alone to think things through.

  That didn’t sound like Rocky but I would accept any explanation apart from the awful scenarios I’d conjured in my head. Shot and left for dead, bleeding out in the streets, crashed into a brick wall, motorbike crushing his body, stabbed in the chest, his final breaths made in a cold and dark alley, completely alone.

  I peered through the shutters again, eyeing the empty street outside and praying for any movement at all.

  Nothing.

  There was absolutely nothing. No people, no cars, no bikes, and, most importantly, no Rocky.

  Where could he be?

  Just as that thought crossed my mind, I heard the low rumble of an engine coupled with the bright headlights as something came speeding down my street. I stood up on my toes trying to get a better view, craning my neck left and right while my heart threatened to burst out of my chest.

  I let out a small sound of anguish as I realized it was just a black van coming down the street.

  Just as I was about to turn away from the window, I noticed the van stop right outside and three men getting out, holding guns the size of my arm and dressed in head to toe black.

  “Shit,” I muttered to myself.

  I immediately let go of the shutters and raced to turn off all the lights. What was I meant to do in an invasion situation? It had never happened to me before so I was at a complete loss.

  What else?

  I hurried to the front door and locked it, wishing there was a deadbolt as well.

  What else?

  A weapon. I jumped over to a small cabinet on Rocky’s side of the room and pulled out the shoebox resting inside. Rocky wouldn’t mind if I borrowed his gun, right?

  I peeled off the lid and cursed when I realized that of course it would be empty, Rocky had it with him for tonight.

  What would work as a weapon then? I scanned the room frantically and almost smacked myself a moment later when I remembered where I worked.

  I opened Rocky’s toolbox and grabbed the large metal wrench that was about the distance from my fingers to my elbow. That should do nicely.

  The door was pounded on roughly from the other side and I resisted the urge to scream.

  “It’s okay. They can’t get in, they don’t know you're here.”

  The door shook again as the men behind it tried to knock it down.

  That was my cue to hide. Hurrying to my office, I locked the door behind me and squeezed myself under the desk. There was no hope for me, I knew it.

  I snagged my phone from my back pocket and dialled Rocky’s number.

  “Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up.” I groaned and shut off my phone, debating who next to call.

  A loud bang sounded out as the front door of the workshop finally opened and the men were able to come in.

  My hands began to shake. I thought it would take them a lot longer to get through that door.

  I called Rocky once again praying that maybe this time he’d answer. Again, there was no answer.

  Should I call the police? I debated it then dismissed the option entirely. I supposed Rocky was rubbing off on me.

  I gripped the wrench tighter in my grip, holding it carefully behind me so that it would be slightly hidden when the door opened.

  The men were making a lot of noise over in the other room, I could hear them shuffling about and knocking things over without a care. Hopefully if they made enough of a mess then Rocky would walk in and immediately figure that something was wrong. My heart was beating in my throat as I held my breath for as long as I would be able. I wondered if they were looking for me or if I was just unlucky.

  My question was answered when the office door flung open and a man shouted, “We got her!”

&nbs
p; Well, I wasn’t willing to go out without a fight.

  I lifted the wrench up and over my head, ready to swing when it was grabbed easily by the man in front of me and thrown to the side.

  “Nice try,” the man mocked and smacked me hard across the face, the force of which sending me crashing to my knees while I clutched my cheek.