Rusty Cage (Rawlins Heretics MC Book 1)

by Bijou Hunter

  “No.”

  Giving in to his desire to hear more, I remember Mitch whose face feels more concrete than many others. No forgetting my first kill, I guess.

  “By that point, I was thirteen and had a few ‘customers,’” I say, doing finger quotes, “besides the landlord. I made a hundred a week. Nothing amazing but I had the cash for whenever I needed. Grammy didn’t know, and I certainly didn’t tell her. When she was in the wrong mood, she blabbed to untrustworthy people. I handled our money until Mitch came along and said he would buy food and pay bills.”

  I bite down too hard on the fork and snap off the prongs. Spitting out the plastic, I reach for another one from the package I brought. Returning to eating, I crack my neck to keep my temper in check.

  Through my entire display, Oz watches me while wearing a faint smile. His dark eyes smolder with hate, though. He still wants to kill the long-dead Mitch.

  “A month after he moved in, Mitch came into my room and raped me, but don’t worry. He’s dead now.”

  “Did he die slowly?”

  “Not as slowly as I could manage now, but it was my first time, and I was sloppy.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “I fought him that night, but he was too strong, and I was unprepared. The next day, I acted as nothing happened. Grammy noticed the bruises on my face from where Mitch hit me, but I told her I was mugged the day before. I don’t think she believed me. I mean she had a black eye too, so clearly, she knew Mitch was a piece of shit. I just don’t think she knew how to make him leave. It’s not like she could call the cops, and no one cared about us.”

  I twirl noodles around my fork and think about the night Mitch took his last breath.

  “I was at school the next day when I decided to kill Mitch. Math class to be specific. I always hated math, so my mind tended to wander. I knew where he drank every night and his route home. There were a couple places where he used alleys, so I hid next to a dumpster and waited for him. It was supposed to rain that night, and I told myself I wouldn’t do it if it started raining before I saw him. I’d see it as a sign.”

  “And it didn’t rain, so...”

  “No, it did. I sat drenched in the filthy alley and held a kitchen knife in my hand. A part of me didn’t think I’d do it, but then I saw him walk past me. I heard him humming the same song as the night he first raped me. I sometimes wonder if I imagined hearing the song since it was raining hard. Anyway, I came up behind Mitch and stabbed him in the side. He turned around, and I was on him like he’d been on me those nights. I stabbed him in the chest and face. Everything moving so fast. I don’t know if I said anything to him, but my face was the last thing he saw before I shoved the blade into his eye. I broke it off in there and shoved the handle down his throat. I wanted to tear him apart, but he was dead, and I was alive. That had to be enough. Staying in the alley was dangerous, so I trashed my clothes and ran home in the clean ones I brought along.”

  Oz’s eyes glow with menace. I’m impressed by the amount of hate he can store inside himself. It’s especially impressive considering how much of him is filled with love for his family and club. Not to mention his seemingly insatiable horniness.

  “The cops never even tried to solve his murder. They never came to the apartment to talk to Grammy. No one cared he was gone, and life went on. Grammy didn’t say anything about him after the first night he didn’t return to the apartment. Learning how easy it was to kill someone in Little Memphis both encouraged and scared me. Basically, I felt like I could kill anyone who fucked with me, but I also could get killed by anyone who wanted to.”

  “But you didn’t get killed.”

  “No. I did okay for a few years. I was fifteen and in high school when a pimp decided I was working his territory. I told him I wasn’t working at all, but he said I worked for him and needed to give him ninety percent. I thought he was fucking kidding. I mean, ninety percent would leave me with like ten dollars a week. What the fuck kind of deal was that?”

  Rolling my eyes, I think back to the slimy fucker with his weirdly great lips on an ugly as sin face.

  “I ignored his threat, which was a big mistake. Cris jumped me on my way home from school one day and beat me with a bat.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “It’s important to you for the bad guys to die, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me too.”

  “We’re two sides of the same coin,” he says as if stating a fact.

  “You really want to get laid.”

  “You can never understand how much I want in your particular pair of panties.”

  “Well, maybe soon you can help me understand,” I tease while licking sauce from my lips.

  “Now that you’ve made my dick hard again, I want to hear what happened to the pimp fucker.”

  “Beating the shit out of me was a big mistake on his part. I agreed to work for him. After I healed up, I brought him the money he expected. That was the day I became Ginger Snaps and when I met Clove, Cayenne, and Bay. They worked for him, and I remember they were all banged up. I also remember the expressions on their faces when I handed him the money and then reached for his bat and beat his skull to mush. Yeah, that was one of the best days of my life.”

  I realize I’m smiling like a crazy person, but killing Cris was the day I accepted I’d never be normal. It also felt good to strike back at someone who hurt me.

  “And you took over his territory?”

  “Yes, and I had it easy for about two days before other assholes figured they could fuck with me. I killed a lot of bad people that year. No one would accept I was running anything. Rationally, I understood their reluctance. I was a teenage girl, and they were grown men. They didn’t want to die, though, and I didn’t give a shit at that point. That’s why I killed Cris. Not because I was taking a stand for womankind or fairness or something. I decided I didn’t want anyone fucking with me again, and I was willing to die to ensure he never hurt me again. I had so much built-up hate and disappointment at life, and I took it out on anyone who messed with me.”

  “No one can blame you for feeling that way.”

  “Wouldn’t care if they did. Once I chose to take the violent path out of my situation, I never cared about the opinion of others. I did what I needed to do to survive as Ginger Snaps. I could have chosen to give Cris what he wanted, keep my head down until I was finished with high school, and try to have a normal life with a job, boyfriend, and the rest.”

  Oz’s expression is unreadable for once. Despite what I just said, some opinions do matter to me. His is one.

  “And that’s how I became a madam and got the name Ginger Snaps,” I say, drinking down half of my beer.

  “And that’s how you ended up in my life.”

  Studying his face, I feel a painful craving deep in my gut. Sort of like what I felt for my only boyfriend, Madden, who I hadn’t been able to let go. Even though I knew early on how we made no sense.

  With Oz, I can’t think clearly enough to tell if I’m chasing a lie again. All I do know for certain is if I kiss him right now that I won’t want to stop until he’s balls deep inside me. Once we fuck, I’ll suffer from the same obsessive need like with Madden. My common sense will disappear, and I’ll fall for a man unsuited for me.

  ➸ Oz ★

  Ginger talks about the most painful shit in the least emotional way. I understand her need to distance herself from horrible memories. After all, I don’t sit around crying over my painful childhood experiences either.

  Ginger, though, doesn’t have only walls around her like my mom after a rough life. No, this fox has her heart surrounded by the kind of security I’d expect at a high-security prison. How can I get close to Ginger when she protects herself so completely?

  “You gonna keep these leftovers?” I ask when Ginger wipes her mouth as a sign she’s finished eating.

  “You can take them home to your kids.”

  “Do you want to meet them?”

>   “No.”

  Her instant rejection pisses me off. “How come? They’re good kids.”

  “I don’t like kids.”

  “Yes, you do,” I say, having heard how the crew dotes on Cayenne’s daughter.

  “Yeah, kids are fine. I just don’t see the point of meeting your kids. Do you have every woman you bang meet your kids?”

  “No, but you’re an important person in Rawlins. My kids need to be tight with those in power. It also doesn’t hurt for them to know more strong women too.”

  Ginger frowns at my response, which makes me grin triumphantly. Whenever I give her an answer she isn’t expecting, she responds with the same stunned frown.

  “I guess that makes sense,” she says, twisting her loose, blonde hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving it over her shoulder.

  “Do you know what I think?”

  “That I need to get fucked. No, it’s that you’re hungry for pussy. Basically, something a horny twelve-year-old would say if he wanted to seem cool.”

  Smiling wider, I lean forward and murmur, “I’m the first man worthy of your interest, and that’s why I make you nutzo.”

  Her indifferent frown tells me I haven’t yet chipped away at her protective walls. “I’ve been with plenty of other worthy men.”

  “Bull-fucking-shit.”

  “Fine, there was just the one, but I loved him. I even thought we’d get married and have kids.”

  I narrow my eyes and lean in closer. “I’m trying to tell if you’re lying.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “If he was so amazing, then why in the fuckety-fuck aren’t you with him?”

  “He and I wanted different things, so we broke up.”

  “What different things?”

  “Madden wanted me to let him be in charge, and I wanted him to stop wanting that shit since it was never going to happen.”

  “But, Ginger, you should let the man be in charge. We’re naturally better leaders than women.”

  “Bull-fucking-shit on both you saying that and you meaning it. Besides, I’m a better leader than you are, and you’re a huge mama’s boy. No way do you think less of women than men.”

  “Madden, huh?” I say, nodding for way too long while thinking of the pretty bitch that enjoyed Ginger’s foxy curves. “Sounds like a little boy’s name.”

  “He was a man.”

  “Couldn’t satisfy you sexually, huh?”

  “He was actually a bit too big, but I did my best to keep up.”

  Seeing my anger at her compliment of Madden’s dick, she nearly bursts into laughter.

  “Where is this love of your life now?”

  “Back in Little Memphis with his new wife and their tiny infant baby boy that looks just like him.”

  “You sound jealous.”

  “Five fucking seconds after we broke up, he hooked up with a submissive Susie and bangs out a kid. Talk about getting over me quickly.”

  “She’s a rebound whore. He’ll dump her once the kid is crawling.”

  “That’s sweet,” she says, rewarding me with an amazing smile.

  “You should rebound with me. I’ll fuck you so hard that you’ll forget every man before me.”

  “Your dick causes brain damage, does it?”

  “No, the headboard does that,” I say, leaning back in the chair before remembering its puny size. “My dick just makes the entire brain damage worth it.”

  Ginger can’t restrain her laughter, thereby encouraging me to keep chasing. We both know once I finally catch her that we’ll have a helluva fun time.

  I stand from the creaking folding chair and take her hand so she’ll stand too. Ginger’s laughter dies instantly, and she’s on guard again. Her skin is painfully soft under my rough fingertips, and her plump lips part when I caress them.

  “You’re a part of Rawlins now, and this is my town,” I say, still exploring those lips. “I’m willing to wait to enjoy your tits and slit and all the other yummy Ginger spots. Soon, you’ll have a bed in this place, and I’ll wreck the damn thing fucking you.”

  “We could do it on the floor right now.”

  “Not with the protective plastic.”

  Ginger smiles, but her eyes remain wary like an animal who’s been kicked around for too long. I see the same distrust in my mother’s eyes when someone tries to sell her something.

  “I wasn’t totally a hundred percent honest about what happened between Madden and me,” she says as her hand caresses mine caressing her face.

  “I’m not surprised. I could tell you were lying about his dick size.”

  “What if he did have a bigger dick than you? Would your ego ever recover?”

  “Shit, I’d just assume he got a dick surgery, and that’s a gross loser move, and I’m not a gross loser. Either way, I still win.”

  “Nice delusionary thinking there, but his giant dick isn’t what I was lying about. Before you ask, I wasn’t lying about him being a great lover either. He was a stud in every way.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, babe.”

  “Madden did want me to quit running the Everything Nice Crew. And he expected me to submit to his man authority. Those weren’t lies, but I did lie about wanting to have a kid with him.”

  “Did you worry your child would have his goofy hair?”

  “How do you know he has goofy hair?”

  “I asked around,” I admit, having made a few calls to Little Memphis after Ginger first set my crotch on fire.

  “I’m not particularly attracted to insecure men. You should keep that in mind when you play your dick measuring game with Madden.”

  “That would sound more convincing if you were drooling when you said it.”

  “Madden was tall, dark, and sexy too. I guess I have a type.”

  “I don’t have goofy hair, though.”

  “The jury is still out on that. I imagine if you let it grow a little longer that we could sign you up for the circus.”

  “Since we’re being honest here, I want you to tell me why you didn’t want a kid. You know, besides the hereditary goofy hair problem.”

  “I can’t imagine having a kid of my own without instantly imagining every terrible thing that could happen to it. I’d want to lock the kid up twenty-four seven to keep it safe from the vile nature of the world I’ve brought it into.”

  “You could leave the Everything Nice lifestyle.”

  “Not that world. The actual world we all live in where people do horrible things to each other and often get away with it. I’ve seen too many disgusting crimes for me not to assume a monster is behind every smiling face.”

  I catch a hint of real fear in her blue eyes. “The number of evil people compared to normal people is probably really small. They cause a lot of damage, sure, but you can’t let assholes ruin the great shit in life. Trust me, kids are amazing. My life isn’t a fairy-fucking-tale, but my kids make me feel like a king.”

  Ginger nearly smiles before frowning darker. “Don’t you worry about something happening to them? How can that shit not keep you up at night?”

  “Do you spend every minute of the day worrying about Duffy?”

  “No, but... Well, I guess you’re right, but a child is defenseless. That’s why we never let Duffy out of our sight. Someone is always with her, and they’re always armed. We’re paranoid and rightfully so.”

  “You’ve looked at the face of the devil, and now you see him everywhere. I get that, but I can’t imagine a life without my kids. They make the world better.”

  Ginger exhales slowly as if my words affect her. “I wish I could see it that way. No doubt my heart’s been corrupted by what I’ve seen, not to mention what I’ve done.”

  “You killed shitty people who hurt the innocent.”

  “I didn’t kill most of them quickly or cleanly, though. I wanted them to suffer. My ease with violence made me a lot of money, and it rid the world of a lot of evil fucks, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t also co
rrupt me down deep.”

  Ginger tries to step back, but I keep her pinned between my body and the sink. Instantly, her gaze turns irritated. Underneath the anger, I sense she’s ready to run or maybe punch me. Not because I have her pinned but because she doesn’t like picking at old scars. Whatever she says or does, I’m ready.

  “I hated holding Duffy when she was a baby,” she says, still frowning at me, “because I felt like I’d get her dirty. For a short time after her birth, I became obsessive about washing my hands. Though I eventually shut that crazy shit down, I realized motherhood wasn’t for me.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Yeah, but is it a deal breaker?” she asks as if hoping I’ll say “yes” and she can escape her feelings for me.

  “I still want to fuck you, so I guess not.”

  “A really winning response there, babe,” she says, patting my face.

  Before she can snatch back her hand, I take it in mine. Ginger holds my gaze while I caress her knuckles. I consider copping a feel, just to see how she responds.

  When her eyes refuse to blink, I take her staring as a dare. My free hand cups her mouth-wateringly plump tit barely hidden by a thin green Mountain Dew shirt.

  Ginger cocks an eyebrow. “I hope you plan to do more tit play than passively palming my boob.”

  “I fear if I tweak your nipple that’s currently digging into my hand that my dick will tear through my jeans. Then I’ll be forced to fuck you just so it’ll fit back into my pants.”

  “While your dilemma is one of the saddest I’ve heard, I’m more interested in my pleasure. What happens to your dick is not even on my top ten list of concerns.”

  “That’s cold,” I say and remove my hand. “I want an emotional fuck, Ginger. You shared personal crap with me, and that makes us more than fuck buddies.”

  “Until we fuck, we’re just buddies. Besides, you haven’t shared shit with me, so I don’t think we can even call ourselves friends.”

  “What do you want to know?” I ask, crossing my arms and waiting for her to hit me with more deflecting crap.

  “Did you cry when your kids were born?”