Love, Lies, & Crime: Anthology

by Kimberly Blalock

  “I didn’t expect this to be under those suits,” I admit. He chuckles against my throat and tells me to wrap my legs around him. “What if I wanted your cock in my mouth?”

  “Well, I want to be in your pussy. We’ll save those perfect lips for later.” I do as he tells me and wrap my legs around his trim waist, bracing myself back on the railing, waiting while he slides a condom on. “Now if you fall, I want you to remember that this crazy railing fuck was your idea.”

  My breath hitches in my chest when he thrusts into me and I let the pleasure of his cock stroking me from the inside win out over the panic of his last words. Each thrust brings a different cry of pleasure from both of us and they get carried off in the breeze. I swear I’m going to have bruises where Cooper’s fingers tighten into my skin and I’m going to have to explain them to clients until they’re gone.

  I won’t lie and say that his words didn’t scare me. With everything going on, they petrified me. It threw me off and I know I need to be careful. I tighten my thighs against his hips and work as hard as I can to get him off because I need to be off of this balcony. I tip my hips when I know he’s close and fake my orgasm when he starts to come.

  Copper drops my legs — slipping out of me — but he doesn’t let me move. His eyes narrow at me. “I don’t appreciate you faking it, Dani.”

  “There was no faking about it,” I pant.

  “I think you forgot that I made you come with my mouth a little while ago. I felt you come apart on my tongue. I watched you shatter, and the fact that you think I wouldn’t notice the difference just because it was my dick in you pisses me off.”

  I see the anger in his eyes as he pulls his clothes back in place, covering every inch of delectable skin. Skin that I wanted to touch, kiss and lick until those words came out of his mouth. My fingers grip painfully tight around the bar I’m holding when he starts moving. I expect him to get mad, to start a fight, hell… to push me over the railing and laugh thanks to his comment, but he doesn’t. He simply turns and walks out without another word and I think that hurts more than anything.

  It’s only nice to feel used when you’re being paid. Next time, stick to what you know. Feelings and flings aren’t your specialty.

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  Part One

  The Final Straw

  PROLOGUE

  Breaking Black

  The shadows of our past are long-reaching. It is a lingering darkness, a latent morning in a starless sky. You can only fight off the memories for so long. Sooner or later, it all comes rushing back to you. It is a nagging ache. A ravenous hunger. The demons of the past gnaw to the surface, devouring our facades and thrashing against our tremendous need to bury our memories. To lay our past to rest.

  People often say, “Don’t live in the past.”

  The individuals that utter these words have no terrors in which to run from, no promise in which they cannot keep. No secret that they cannot discard, no matter how hard they try. They are the fortunate. The lucky few who can fall asleep at night without the nagging tug of anxiety creeping into their chest. Our memories, conjured by a scent, a touch, a song, have the ability to imprison us. As witnesses to the dark side of humanity, it is our duty to ensure that history doesn’t repeat itself. My husband and brothers wish to forget. I never will.

  Every breath is an act of defiance. We weren’t supposed to outlive our enemies, but as they drew their last breaths, we let out a triumphant cry. Now it is up to us to break the cycle. How can we keep the next generation from falling prey to the darkness of their family history? This is not a story for the meak-hearted. This is not a tale for children. Breaking Black. Breaking back into some sense of normalcy. How do we forge the future for our children that was intended for us? A wise man once said, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” The road to heaven is plagued with potholes and dead ends. No truer words have ever been spoken.

  With the absence of the Seventy Devils in Oakeley, the town flourished. Businesses were growing, violent crime had plummeted and the club that had once housed many of Oakeley’s most dangerous criminals had been leveled to the ground. A memorial garden was erected in its place as a remembrance of all the victims of Black Horse and the Seventy Devils. There were benches with bronze placards commemorating Nathan and Corinne Ford, Colt’s mother, Torian, Will and many others. A brick path led through the garden with names on many of them. A small stone fountain commemorated the officers’ lives taken in the line of duty. This garden helped to heal the heart of Oakeley, but in the grand scheme of things, it was just a band aid over a gaping wound.

  Thirty seven members of the Seventy Devils still drew breath inside a West Texas prison. Their headquarters was gone, but the patch still lived on. Those that remain loyal to the memory of Black Horse and his Devils went underground, hiding among us. A sense of paranoia crept through Oakeley. It’s a terrible feeling not knowing who you can trust. There were whispers. Rumblings from the underground. The Seventy Devils had not laid down their hatchet. Instead, they were preparing for a war. The target was large. The Devils planned to take down anyone who stood in their path. They wouldn’t rest until Oakeley was reclaimed.

  For a long while, life in Oakeley was better. It was ideal. We had quiet neighborhoods, hardly any crime, neighbors who weren’t afraid to say hello to each other. I could actually walk down Monument Avenue with Matthew in his stroller, and Colt and Randy wouldn’t try to stop me. Tim had given up trying to tell me what to do years ago. The peace wouldn’t last forever, though. It seems nothing ever does.

  Seventeen months had passed and the imprisoned were about to be released. They weren’t alone in their hostility. A new generation was born from the wreckage of a war. Children that were raised with half-truths, nervous glances and guarded secrets. Parents petrified for the day when they would have to let the truth be known.

  My son, Matthew, was born into a world shrouded in fear. A truth had to be told and we would tell it. Once he was ready, we would not withhold the truth and guard him from the reality of the world he was stepping into. A day of reckoning was upon us.

  Every heartbreak, every failure, every misstep… it all led us to this moment. Every mistake – a lesson. Every life lost, not in vain, but for a greater good. Loyalties will be tested. Bloodlines will be cut. The legacy of Black Horse will be broken.

  It will all come down to one man. The grandson of the victims. The direct descendant of the monster, himself. He is of light and dark, with a will to protect and a calling to do what’s right.

  Matthew McClain holds the fate of Oakeley in the palm of his hand.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Fight

  The crowd screamed as Tim Ford entered the ring. Following behind him, Colt McClain had a charged look in his eyes as he threw a white towel, a water bottle and a first aid kit in the corner. Tim sparred an invisible opponent as he prepped for his first in-ring fight in over three years.

  “In one corner, weighing 229 pounds, from Oakeley, Texas, we have Tim “Silent Storm” Ford!”

  Tim held up his arm as he greeted the crowd that had anticipated his return to the ring for the past six months.

  “And his opponent, weight 241 pound, hailing from Blackrock, Wyoming… We have Jax “Judgment Day” Carter!”

  The excitement of the crowd increased to a deafening roar as both fighters took their respective corners. Tim looked out at the crowd nervously, but Colt brought him back to the moment.

  “Yo… Right here…” Colt said as he slapped his hands down on Tim’s shoulders. “Focus.”

  Tim stared into Colt’s intense eyes as Colt prepared him for the first.

  “Ignore the audience. That’s just background noise. It’s just you and the beast in the other corner.”

  Tim nodded. He knew he was going up against a ruthless, tough as nails opponent. He had fought alongside him several other times. In fact, Jax “Judgment
Day” Carter was one of the guys who had helped train Tim alongside Colt. And now the student would fight the teacher. Tim had something that Jax didn’t – hand to hand military combat. That itself was worth more weight than a hundred fights in the ring.

  Tim stretched his arms and rolled his neck as he let the tension that had built up roll down his back. After months in the gym with Colt, Tim now owned the physique of a brick shit house and he was ready to step back into the ring.

  “You with me?” Colt asked as he clapped his hands. “Stay low, guard your face. He has a wicked roundhouse kick.”

  Tim nodded in understanding.

  “His weaknesses… Right shoulder. He has a bad rotator cuff. He never covers his torso, and his right knee is damn near blown. You got this!” Colt insisted as he slapped Tim hard on the back. Tim knew he had it. His confidence had risen during the training phase and he felt better than ever.

  “Let’s do this…” Tim said as he rose from his stool. Not everyone was quite so relaxed, though.

  “Breathe, Shelly!” Averi yelled from across the room as her friend continued to hyperventilate in a panic. Averi stared at Shelly with wide eyes as she patted her eleven month old son on his back.

  Randy dropped into the red armchair next to Shelly with a bucket of popcorn in his grip. “This is sweet! Box seats!” Randy announced loudly as he shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Shelly sobbed loudly beside him.

  Giving Shelly a disgusted glare, Randy spouted, “What the hell is your problem?!”

  “She’s nervous, Randy…” Averi explained.

  “About what?! It’s a sporting event!” Randy insisted as he rolled his eyes.

  Baby Matthew let out a loud burp earning Randy’s applause. “Yeah! That’s my nephew…”

  Averi shook her head with a smirk. “Clearly.”

  Suddenly, the door opened behind them, and Cheyenne strolled through with a beer in her hand.

  “Here. Before you start whining,” Cheyenne said as she passed it off to her husband.

  “It’s like you can read minds,” Randy blurted out as he took a gulp of his beer.

  “You spoil him,” Averi teased.

  Cheyenne laughed. “As if he wasn’t spoiled already.”

  Cheyenne poked her nephew on the nose and the baby laughed showing off his brand new tooth.

  “Here I’ll take him from you. You need a break,” Cheyenne said to Averi as she lifted Matthew into her arms.

  “So, Mr. Man. Who do you think is going to win,” Cheyenne said to baby Matthew. “Uncle Tim or Mr. Jax?”

  She took a seat next to Randy and looked over at Shelly who was casting a heated glare her way. Cheyenne didn’t flinch, though. “Girl, you need to chill! Tim is not a boy scout. He can handle himself.”

  Averi laughed, “Shell, have a drink. You look like you’re going off the deep end.”

  “Hey Ave,” Cheyenne said, changing the subject. “Have you heard from your Uncle Shawn lately?”

  “Actually, yeah. I just got a letter from his today. He’s okay. He keeps to himself. Mostly, he just complains about the food and the noise.”

  “It’s gotta be an uncomfortable situation…” Cheyenne admitted with a strained look on her face.

  “Quiet!” Randy urged. “The fight is starting!”

  “Alright, Gentlemen. I want a clean fight,” the referee said to Jax and Tim. Jax glared at Tim from intense nearly black eyes. His soaking wet ebony hair hung over his shoulders. Droplets of water slid across his tribal tattoos that covered his back. Jax was called “Judgment Day” for a reason. He was menacing at best. Tim looked unfazed, though. If he harbored any fear, it didn’t show on his face. Tim smiled at Jax. He didn’t wear a cocky grin like Randy or Colt might. Tim’s smile was one of complete self-assurance.

  “Touch gloves,” the referee ordered.

  The fighters did as they were instructed and a moment later the bell went off.

  Ding! Ding! Ding!

  The fight began with furious intensity. Tim sparred as Jax trapped him in a corner. He ducked just narrowly avoiding a roundhouse kick. Tim ducked, sliding out of the corner delivering a sweeping kick to Jax’ right leg. His hulking body crashed to the mat as Tim batted him for more.

  The crowd roared as the intensity of the fight increased. Waving Jax on, Tim egged on his opponent with a sly smirk on his face.

  “I can’t watch!” Shelly yelled as she covered her face with her hands.

  “You’ve got the heart of a lion!” Randy said sarcastically as he took another swig of beer. Quickly, he placed it down on a coaster as he screamed, “Yeah, Tim! Git ‘em!”

  Randy expected Shelly to come back at him with a sharp insult, but instead she jumped out of her seat and rushed off to the bathroom in a frantic manner. Cheyenne’s lip curled up.

  “Umm… Averi… Is she alright?” Cheyenne asked.

  Averi shrugged. “Her nerves are shot. She’s got herself all worked up over nothing.”

  “Shell…” Averi said as she knocked on the bathroom door. Shelly didn’t reply but she could hear the dry heaves from through the door.

  “Is she pregnant?!” Cheyenne asked with wide eyes.

  Averi laughed. She knew Shelly was on the pill. She watched her pop her Yaz during their daily lunch get-togethers. Averi shook her head.

  “Pregnant with paranoia. Shell! Open up!” Averi called.

  “Ugh!” Shelly cried from the other side of the door.

  “If it upsets you that much, maybe you shouldn’t be here…” Averi suggested.

  “For real!” Randy yelled, keeping his eyes on the fight.

  “Ave, I’m about to kill your brother,” Shelly screamed.

  “Which one?!” Averi asked with a laugh.

  “ME!” Randy said proudly.

  Cheyenne shook her head as she bounced baby Matthew on her knee.

  “Your relatives are crazy! Yes they are! Especially Uncle Randy and Aunt Shelly!” Cheyenne cooed at the baby.

  Randy’s upper lip curled as he listened to his wife baby his nephew.

  “Don’t talk to him like a baby!” Randy growled.

  “He is a baby, Randy!” Cheyenne said in her own defense.

  “You’ll turn ‘em into a sissy!” Randy protested.

  “Oh, please Randy!” Cheyenne said, waving him off.

  “He’s mini man,” Randy said, keeping his eyes on the fight. “Yeah!” Randy screamed as an avalanche of popcorn erupted from the bucket that sat on his lap. “That’s right, Tim! Rickroll the bitch!”

  Cheyenne rolled her eyes as she regarded her husband. “Isn’t Jax like your best buddy?” she asked with a look of bewilderment on her face.

  “Family first, Chey. You know that,” Randy replied.

  Cheyenne nodded with satisfaction as she glanced at Randy’s face. Suddenly, the baby had gotten sleepy and rested his head against Cheyenne’s shoulder.

  “Family first. That’s right,” Cheyenne whispered with deep inflection in her voice. She caressed Matthew’s dark brown hair and she smiled.

  Tim and Jax had gone twelve rounds and their exhaustion was beginning to show. Sweat dropped down their backs and from their brows and their movements were becoming sluggish. It was a hard-fought match. Both men could be proud of the performance they offered.

  Tim had the upper hand as he pinned Jax to the mat, trapping his shoulders under his knees. Finally, that victorious sound rung out. The bell clanged and the ref raised Tim’s left hand and declared him the winner. The noise from the crowd buzzed in Tim’s ear. Adrenaline pulsed through his body and as the rush of victory took over him, Tim glanced up at the club box where his family was sitting and smiled up at them. Randy, Cheyenne and Averi cheered him on, none more proud than his own brother.

  Colt slapped Tim on his shoulder with a smile and passed him a towel and his water bottle.

  “And that’s how you step back into the arena. C’mon. We have a steak dinner with your name on it.”

&nb
sp; “Shell! It’s over. He did it!” Averi called from the outside of the door.

  “Oh, thank God!” Shelly yelled in a muffled voice. As the bathroom door creaked open, Shelly asked, “He’s not hurt, is he?”

  Averi laughed, “No, Shell. He served three tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan. This is nothing for him.”

  “I worry,” Shelly admitted as she left the bathroom and wiped her mouth on a napkin.

  “No kidding!” Randy said with sarcasm dripping from his voice.

  Glaring at Randy, Shelly sent a hand towel flying across the room at Randy’s head. Before Shelly could say anything further, her cell phone began to ring. Fishing through her overpacked Kate Spade purse, Shelly dug out her phone. She glanced at the caller ID and it was a number that she didn’t recognize. She answered it anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi… Is this Michelle Carmichael?” a female voice asked.

  “Yes. Who is speaking?” Shelly asked.

  “My name is Kate Dowery. I’m with your father’s home health agency. He’s home now and asking for you.”

  Shelly looked surprised. “Oh! Really?! I didn’t think he was being released until Friday at least. Well, no… That’s great news. Tell him I’ll be there soon.”

  Shelly hung up the phone with a shocked look on her face.

  “Who was it?” Averi asked curiously.

  “A nurse. Dad’s home,” Shelly said, still in disbelief.

  “I didn’t think he was getting released from the hospital until Friday,” Averi said, sounding just as surprised as Shelly was.

  “Me either!” Shelly replied with wide eyes.

  Shelly had been so stressed out lately, between her father’s collision with a Mack truck that required him to have spinal surgery to Tim’s return to the MMA arena, Shelly’s nerves were on edge.

  “I have to go…” Shelly said frankly. “I’m sorry I’m going to miss dinner…”