by Naomi West
Josh chuckled. “Are you hungry? Dad left us some pizza and cookies.”
“Do you know where your dad went? Did he take Carlos’ advice?” I asked, suddenly feeling a puddle of dread fill my stomach. My memories returned to me in a sudden downpour, and I kind of wished I was still passed out. “How long has he been gone? Do you know where he went?”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Come on, Ivy. One question at a time, okay?”
I took a deep breath and sat up a little more, glancing around the room. It was a pretty generic motel room; there was a single bed, a TV which was currently blasting cartoons at a completely unreasonable volume, and a small nightstand. There didn’t even appear to be a closet or a kitchenette. So Creed doesn’t expect us to stay here for long then. It must mean he’s doing something about Kelly. But what will he do?
I wanted to know. I needed to know. It was me who brought about Creed’s decision. I felt like I needed to help somehow.
Unfortunately, it took me almost ten minutes just to sit up straight. I guess the stress of the last few months had finally caught up with me. I felt like a punching bag that had lost all of its filling. Propping up some of the pillows behind me, I stared into the TV, trying to catch my breath. “How long was I asleep?” I asked finally.
“A few hours. It hasn’t been too long.”
“Did your dad go back to see Kelly?”
Josh nodded, his face screwing up like he was forcing himself not to cry. “He said that they had some unfinished business. I asked if we could all just leave, the three of us, but he said he wanted to stay and fix it.”
“Fix it,” I repeated, my lips forming around the words. He was going to fix it. Creed would fix the Edge. Did he mean to kill Kelly then? My stomach turned a little at the thought, but not as much as it turned at the thought of Kelly and Christine succeeding.
Josh got up from the bed and grabbed a pizza box off of the floor. There was a box of cookies on top of it and another bottle of water. “Here. You should eat something. My dad said neither of us can leave this room until he gets back. Unless he’s not back in a day. Then we’re supposed to run.”
“Where would we run to?” I asked, my voice filled with uncertainty. We don’t have any money, and we don’t know which way to go.”
After a quick shrug, Josh pulled a small wad of cash out of his pocket. “We can go to the moon and back with this much money.”
I didn’t quite agree. It would be horrible if I went through all of that trouble getting back my business only to have to abandon it to the incoming cartel. They would most likely kill anything associated with the Edge, which meant Josh and I would have to escape before they started looking for us. I wondered where Creed meant us to go with what looked like $300. Couldn’t be far.
I ate a slice of pizza and drank the second bottle of water before I finally felt human again. My head still ached, but overall I didn’t feel too bad. I might even be able to stand.
Throwing back the covers, I shifted my legs to the side, getting to my feet. I wobbled a little but remained standing without much effort. Already feeling better. Good news! I’d always been rather resilient when it came to getting over illnesses and things. I stretched carefully, waiting for a sign of light-headedness. But nothing came. I didn’t feel up to running a marathon, but I was pretty sure I could walk a bit without getting tired.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked glancing around.
Josh pointed behind himself, towards the back of the hotel room. There was a little tiny door, closed to the room. “Thanks.” Focusing on taking one steady step at a time, I surprised at how normal I felt. Weren’t you supposed to feel like shit after you fainted? Maybe not. I’d never fainted before.
I used the restroom, took a quick shower in the very smelly bathroom, then got out, coming back into the room. Josh was still sitting in front of the TV, his eyes locked on whatever silly show he was watching now. I grabbed the remote and turned it down a few notches so the sound didn’t pound inside of my skull anymore.
Now that I knew I could walk, I had to get back to Creed’s side. It was where I belonged. “Josh, we need to go see your dad. We need to make sure that he--”
“My dad said we need to stay here,” Josh answered. “He said if you tried to leave, I should shoot you.” Pulling the gun out from under the bed, Josh set it down on the side table beside him. “I’m going to follow orders.”
It was a test for me. A way out. Creed wanted me to stay with Josh, but if I chose I could walk out the door. Josh wouldn’t shoot me, and we all knew it. But that decision was the easiest one I’ve ever made. I would always pick to stay. No matter what. “But what if your dad--”
“He said we couldn’t leave, okay?” Josh was furious and he beat his little fists on the bed. “You think I don’t want to so see if my dad is dead or not? I fucking do.”
Tears touched the corners of his eyes as he yelled. The silence after his outburst seemed to echo loudly between my aching ears. “I’m sorry, Josh. Let’s eat some more pizza and watch a movie, okay?”
He wiped his chocolate eyes with the back of his sleeve, sniffling loudly. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking a little from emotion. “But I get to pick it.”
“No horror movies,” I said immediately. “I hate horror movies.”
Josh pouted. “Come on, those are the best kind of movies.”
I made a face, trying to distract him from his father. “No way! The best kind of movie is animated kid’s movies.”
Josh rolled his eyes. “What are you, like twelve?”
I snatched the TV remote. “Come on, let’s watch something funny.”
“I wanna watch a zombie movie!”
We managed to bicker for the next hour or so, distracting ourselves with movies and arguments about what the best kind of movie was. Then we argued over what to order for dinner. Then we argued over sleeping arrangements.
But no matter how hard we tried to distract ourselves, Creed was still firmly rooted in the back of our minds. Worry seeped into every second, stretching it out into eternity. And yet, we continued to wait, listening to the ticking of the wall clock with nervous anticipation.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Creed
This is no longer about treason or mutiny. No, it’s about way more than that. Regardless, I still felt like a target when I walked into the Edge’s clubhouse. I felt like everyone can see what I’ve done, what I’ve seen today. I feel their eyes on me as I stride past the bikes and head towards the back where Kelly was bound to be.
A long, lithe body slid out from the shadows like a snake to block my path. Christine had a wicked little smile on her painted mouth. She was wearing some kind of long, red dress. She looked more red carpet ready than dress for a night at the Devil’s Edge. “Heading somewhere awfully quick, Creed,” she purred, holding her arms out to either side. “Why don’t you slow down a little, take a look around? You might find something you like that way.”
“I doubt it, Christine Rodgers,” I snapped, my teeth grinding together as I stared her down. This bitch thrived in our home, was welcomed here, and spent her time stringing along my brothers, eating our food, and drinking our alcohol. All the while her mouth was full of poisoned lies. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to snap her tiny neck and mail her body parts back to her family. But I couldn't do that.
Her face turned from playful to sinister in a matter of a half-second, like someone had flipped a switch. “Oh, look at who thinks he’s so smart. Do you really think Kelly is going to believe you? Especially after I tell him who you went meeting with this morning.” She smirked. “Checkmate, asshole.”
I swallowed hard as Christine stared me down. “Is it checkmate, Christine? You might want to recheck the board.” I rolled up my sleeves, showing off the flame tattoos climbing up both arms. “I still have a trick or two up my sleeves.”
Before she could say another word, I reared back and punched her right in the face. Christine fell lik
e a rock, unconscious before she even hit the ground.
A gasp went through all of the Devil’s Edge members as her limp body fell to the floor like a ragdoll.
“Would you like to see who your leader has been fraternizing with?” I asked the witnesses. “This is Christine Rodgers.”
Silence met my claim; it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. But no one moved and no one spoke, so I pulled off one of Christine’s massive bangles on her left wrist. A decorative “R” decorated the skin there, written in bright red ink.
She really was a Rodgers. I stared at the tattoo, just as dumbfounded as everyone around me. I glanced around at the other members of the Edge, watching as the glaze in their eyes faded away, replaced by anger.
And when I left Christine’s limp form behind me to confront Kelly, they followed.
Kelly was waiting for me.
He stood as I entered the back room. “Kelly,” I said, my voice carrying over the suddenly silent room. Everyone was watching me. All of the eyes were curious, accusatory. But I would prove them all wrong.
Kelly’s eyes, however, were too far gone to save with facts. No, he was filled with madness and anger and no sense.
“Your Christine wasn’t sent by the cartel. She was a Rodgers. Did you even vet her?” I yelled, loud enough for every single member of the Devil’s Edge inside of the building hear me. A riot of whispers broke out for a moment before the silence returned. “Did you know, Kelly?”
“You have been breaking the rules, my friend,” Kelly said instead of answering my question. “You should learn to color in the lines.” Slowly, as if it was a slow motion move, Kelly turned, grabbed what looked like a golf club, and took a swing at my head.
But I was ready. Rolling out of the way of his wild swing, I picked up another of the clubs from the back wall, coming to my feet in one fluid motion. I’d forgotten how fast Kelly could be, and I had to throw myself to the left to avoid his second swing.
“You sadistic asshole; how dare you gamble with everyone’s life here like some sort of psychopath? What the fuck were you thinking?” I swung wide, catching Kelly on his left arm. He didn’t even seem to feel it, bringing his club around to try and strike from below. I side-stepped, careful to keep my footing. If I stumbled, he would be on me, crushing my skull in one powerful move.
“The Edge is mine!” Kelly retorted, his voice an octave too high. “I can risk it however I like.”
Another round of whispers filled the air as the crowd glanced at one another.
“Our brothers’ lives aren’t chess pieces, asshole!” I swung harder, slamming the club down with enough force to break bone. It cracked the concrete below us as Kelly dodged to the left like some sort of fucking athlete. I needed to slow him down.
Kelly just laughed, the sound of it echoing off of the walls. “Your brothers are willing to die for the glory of the Edge. We’re going to be on top, and then nothing will be able to stop any of us!” he cried, swinging at me like a lunatic.
I backed away, trying to keep out of range of his club. The crowd backed up with me, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. “We could have all been wealthy until you fucked with it!”
“No, the cartel never was going to let us keep the territory. They were thinning our ranks and that of the Carrion Club to let the Rodgers in.”
The faces in the audience hardened as I continued to speak, spilling the secrets of Kelly’s obsession with the whole of the club. “He used all of us for some sick, dangerous way to the top, not caring how many of us died in the process,” I swung hard, pressing forward to slam the end of the club into his shoulder. Kelly’s collarbone shattered with a wet crunch as he screeched in pain.
His club fell to the ground, and I kicked it from his reach. Silently, I turned and looked at all of the faces of my Edge brothers. Every single one looked pale, strained. They also looked determined and furious, their anger directed towards our so-called leader crying on his knees.
Bax stepped forward, holding his hands out in front of him like an offering. Resting in his giant palms was a gun, already loaded and cocked. All I had to do was aim and pull the trigger. “What do you say, Devil’s Edge?”
Silence met my words. Not a single one of my brothers stepped forward. Not one looked at Kelly with any sort of pity or sadness. No, most of the faces were turned to me. They didn’t even bother to look at Kelly. He didn’t deserve to be acknowledged.
So I pressed the gun to Kelly’s forehead. Before I could have any second thoughts, I pulled the trigger twice. Kelly’s eyes still held the madness as he toppled over, his blood and brains splattering the Edge’s floor. Silence met the sound of the ringing shots. No one said a single thing.
When I walked out, not a single person tried to stop me.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ivy
“This place fucking sucks,” I mumbled, and not for the first time. It was gross. It was a wreck. I was tired of cleaning, tired of hanging around this shithole and waiting. I hated waiting. I had a store to run now, but instead, I was sitting inside of this shitty goddamn half-rotted barn trying not to cry at all of the dust in my clothing.
I think the only one of us who found our temporary quarters to be fun was Josh. He finally had grass to run in, for the first time in his life. So I let him run everywhere. He was out there, running around now. It was the only thought that could make me smile.
I kicked a pile of dirty laundry and cursed at it, screaming at the top of my lungs. I was done with domestic bullshit. I decided I would never do laundry again.
Someone chuckled darkly at me, and spun on my heel, ready to attack. “You fucking think this is funny? It’s not like you’ve ever tried to do laundry in this shithole.”
Creed held up his hands. “Fair. But I don’t think that’s proper language for a lady.”
“Fuck you, Creed.” But even as I said the words, I could feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. He was my rock, my solace in this horrible place. “How much longer do we have to be here?” I knew I was whining, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
“One more night, then we can head back. The Devil’s Edge should be done voting with what to do with us. Then we can go back.”
I rolled my eyes, giving the laundry one last kick for good measure. “Why do we have to live in this hellhole when there are so many nicer places in town for us to stay at?” I make a face as I looked around the converted barn. I’d just cleaned up, and already everything was covered in a fine coat of dust.
“We can’t be in town. I’m not allowed to participate or influence any of the discussions about what to do next, so I have to remain here. Same goes with my damned headstrong child and my damned headstrong woman. They didn’t trust any of his to be within thirty miles of the vote.” He looked amused at my sour expression. “It will be over soon, then we can go home to your store and a new apartment.”
“We better. I’m not with this nonsense; I--” But I never got to finish my sentence. Creed swept me up into his arms instead, covering my mouth with his and silencing me. He was so strong, I couldn’t have wrestled him off even if I wanted to. Good thing I really, really didn’t want to.
“I think you’ve done enough cleaning for the day,” Creed whispered against my neck, sending shivers down every inch of my body. “I have a few more chores for you, however.”
“Oh!” I cried out as he slipped a hand under my skirt, his fingers finding the already wet, slick center of me like a magnet. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to remember what was like to feel him, rough and hard, slamming into me.
I wanted it rough, and I wanted it now.
But Creed seemed to be determined to take his time, caressing every inch of my body through my clothing with one hand as he slid a finger inside of me with the other. His touch was gentle and so completely different from his normal touch that I gasped. The gentle brush of his fingers felt like whispers across my skin, and I wanted more.
I threw back my he
ad, crying out as he set a long, slow teasing pace with his fingers. It felt like silk caressing every inch he could reach.
Sliding my hands under his shirt, I caressed the hard lines of his muscles. I felt the outline of every scar, my gentle fingertips running over every single inch of him. I could feel the thunder of his heart in his veins as my fingers brushed over his neck, slipping the fabric of his shirt over his head. He abandoned me for just a split second to pull the shirt over his head, and I cried out at even that momentary loss of his touch.
There was nothing rushed in the brush of his fingers as he found the hem of my shirt, lifting it up over my head.
We both of us were bruised and battered from our battles; I could still trace the yellowing bruises Kelly had given Creed during that final fight together. The cuts on my hands had mostly healed, but there were scars, pink and puffy from the healing process. We traced the outlines of the injuries we’d both sustained, our touches gentle.