by Penny Dee
“You want it, you come and get it,” she called into the indigo light.
She didn’t need to ask twice. I ripped off my clothes until I was standing there buck naked and armed with a raging erection. It was heavy and tapped my belly as I entered the lake and dove into the water.
When I found her, she came to me and curled her silkiness around me.
We kissed like teenagers and she wound her arms around my neck, getting as close to me as she could. When I entered her, her lips trembled against mine as I held her by her thighs and took control of the motion. She panted into my mouth with every wet kiss until her body quaked, and she cried her pleasure into the dark wilderness. When she came down, I walked her to the shore and placed her down on the sand.
“What are you doing?” she asked as I trailed wet kisses down her soft belly.
I opened her legs and looked up at her from between her thighs.
“I meant what I said. I’m going to do things to this beautiful body of yours that will blow your mind.”
And burying my face into the soft warmth of her pussy, I did exactly as I had promised.
Later, when our mutual moans rippled in the moonlit night and then disappeared like smoke, we took another swim in the lake. She’d made me come twice, and I’d made her come so many times she was left spent and as supple as a ragdoll in the sand.
Now we swam together, looking at each other across the milky ribbon of light on the water.
She was so beautiful it hurt. Creamy skin glittering with water. Big full lips. Hair cascading down her flawless body like satin. Eyes gleaming like precious stones.
Walls had plummeted. Pieces of armor had broken off and fallen away. And in the bright moonlight, I felt my heart open for the first time in years.
In our time together, she’d only mentioned Wendy to me once, and I had deflected it. But now… now I wanted to share things with her. Let her know who I was. What I had lost. That I wasn’t emotionally dead. That it was the guilt that erected the walls around my heart. Walls that no one but her had managed to break down.
I told her that it was my fault.
That my wife and unborn child died because I put the club first.
That I had never known a pain like it, and having felt it, promised myself I would never feel it again.
That it was guilt that kept me holding on.
That for years I didn’t think I deserved more.
But now she had come along…and maybe I was wrong…
I told her about begging the medical examiner to know the sex of my unborn baby. About how he’d told me it was a girl. My daughter. A beautiful angel who would never feel the warmth of the sun on her face or the love of her father’s embrace.
Then I pulled her to me and slid my palms across her wet cheeks, and felt the connection between us strengthen.
I didn’t declare my love for her.
Didn’t look her in her big, beautiful dark eyes and whisper sweet nothings to her.
But I did open up my heart to her, and when I kissed her, I made sure she felt it too.
BULL
After the lake, we spent the night at her apartment. But the following morning, I had to leave early.
I didn’t want to leave.
I wanted to spend the morning worshipping her body.
But I had to meet with Spider, our slimy but reliable informant in the seedy underbelly of our county.
He had important information about Gimmel Martel.
Important information that couldn’t wait.
The Slip N’ Slide was a seedy strip joint just past the Last Horizon trailer park. It was a place where women twirled on slippery poles as men with nowhere better to be drank watered-down booze, and stuffed crumpled dollar bills into thong bikini bottoms before heading off to the bathroom to jerk off. I pulled up in an alley behind the club and walked inside through the back door. Immediately, the stench of stale smoke and spilled liquor ground into my nostrils. It was also dark, so I took my glasses off. Here in the shadows there was no pain. I looked around, taking a moment for my eyes to adjust.
The place smelled of desperation and sleaze.
It looked even worse.
Across the room, a girl with dead eyes and a blank face slid up and down a pole in front of an audience of three.
Spider, the owner, was sitting at the bar. Dressed in a plaid suit, he rose from his seat when he saw me and indicated for me to follow him. I knew the way to his office and headed for it, passing a patron indiscreetly jerking off in the shadows to a girl humping the stage in front of him.
“You okay with that?” I asked as I reached the doorway to his office.
Spider glanced over at the man ferociously jerking at his cock.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He whipped out his phone from his pocket and punched in a number. “Goddamnit, Bruno, do your fucking job. We got a fucker whacking off near stage three. Stop fucking around and throw him out. And tell the bastard that it’s his one and only warning. Next time, he’s out for good. Now get your fat ass over there before he blows his load all over my velour couch.”
He thrust his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry about that. Not sure what’s in the water, but that’s the fourth guy we’ve caught with his hands dancing in his pants this week. Fucking degenerates.” He gestured for me to step into his office. “Come in.”
He closed the door behind me.
“So what is so important it couldn’t wait?” I asked, deliberately not taking a seat. Spider was unsavory at the best of times. He was a good informant. But I could only imagine what went on in this office.
His sweaty brow furrowed. “A reliable source tells me Gimmel Martel has put a hit out on you.”
I remained unfazed. Poker-faced. Calm. My body language relaxed. But hearing that you had a hit out on you didn’t tickle the funny bone. No matter who you were. It meant things would have to immediately change. My life would have to change. Certain precautions were needed, not just for me, but for those I loved.
Including the one in my bed.
“You a hundred percent certain this information is reliable?” I asked.
Spider nodded. “It came from two people, Bull. People I trust.”
I nodded. The hit on me was to be expected.
Although, why pay for a hit when he could send one of his thugs to do the job?
I could only assume Martel planned to rise from his exile and didn’t want to be associated with my murder. The Kings of Mayhem were heavily connected. If he wanted to rise like a phoenix and rebuild his empire, then it was best not to burn any more bridges.
“Has anyone accepted the job?”
Spider nodded. “Apparently.”
“Any idea who?”
“No, idea. None of the favorites. They wouldn’t touch this hit with a hazmat suit. They know the consequences.”
“But someone has definitely accepted?”
“According to my sources. But I can’t confirm who accepted it. I’ll keep digging around.”
I nodded and clasped my hand on his shoulder. “If you hear anything else, let me know.”
“Will do.”
Outside, the bad weather had cleared, and bright sunlight stabbed my eyes. I slid on my glasses and climbed onto my bike. I didn’t want to go back to the clubhouse and call chapel. I thought about Taylor and a warm glow filled my chest. I wanted to see her. Wanted to look at her and know that the beautiful smile on her face was for me.
But things had changed since I’d left her this morning.
I had a contract on my life now and I couldn’t risk her or Noah getting caught up in this.
Every part of me screamed to stay away, and it was a warning I knew I should heed.
The best thing I could do for her was to walk away.
I wasn’t good for her.
Not now.
But how could I walk away knowing what I would be leaving behind?
The idea of a world without Taylor suddenly seemed cold and mise
rable.
No, giving her up wasn’t an option.
It wasn’t an option at all.
I called chapel, and within the hour, I had brought the Kings up to speed. Except Ruger. I told him to take time off to look after his wife and kid.
“Fuck!” Yale pounded his big fist onto the wooden table.
A dark, unease rippled through the room.
“We can step up security,” Chance said.
“And reach out to the other chapters, see what they can find out,” Cade added.
“Or we can just put a bullet in Martel’s goddamn head,” Matlock said.
“Won’t stop the hit from playing out,” Joker said grimly.
Putting a bullet in Martel was more than appealing. And it was definitely something I was going to make happen. But Joker was right. It wouldn’t put me in the clear. Once a hit was in play, it was almost impossible to stop. Even if the person paying for it was dead and buried.
“I’m not convinced Spider is right,” I said. “A hired gun isn’t Martel’s style. He has his own men for it.”
“But we can’t take that for granted,” Chance replied.
“You’re right. We’ll handle this how we handled it before. We’ll reach out and see if we can find out who accepted the hit, and I’ll arrange additional security for the clubhouse. But it’s business as usual, you hear me? I refuse to let that fucker have any influence over the Kings and how we conduct business moving forward.” I brought down the gavel, and the snap of wood against wood vibrated through the room.
As our brothers slowly dispersed and made their way out to the bar, Cade put his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “You know you’re going to have to take some necessary steps here.”
“Relax, this isn’t the first time I’ve had a hit out on me. I know the drill.”
“And I know you. The last time you didn’t take this seriously.”
He’s right. The last time involved a backwater crime family and a hillbilly mobster-wannabe. To teach them a lesson, we’d destroyed their moonshine racket until it was nothing but a steaming pile of ash, while the would-be assassin was fermenting in the mosquito-ridden soil of Crawdad Bayou, just a few miles over the border.
“You have to admit, it was hard to take any of them seriously,” I said.
“But you have to take this seriously, Bull. This is Gimmel Martel we’re talking about. Not some hillbilly moonshine cartel.” He fixed his bright blue eyes on me. “You’ll have to tell Taylor.”
My eyes shot to his. “You know about that?”
He raised an eyebrow. “About you and Taylor? You’re kidding me, right? I’m sure they know about it in fucking Australia.”
“It’s not public knowledge.”
“Yeah, that’s where you’re wrong.” His mild amusement vanished and he looked serious. “She deserves to know what she’s getting herself into.”
Fuck.
“No, not until I know what I’m dealing with.”
I didn’t want to scare her.
Hell, I didn’t want her to run away.
I knew it was fucking selfish of me. But I wasn’t ready to destroy the best thing to happen to me in years based on second-hand information.
Informants got things wrong.
Hell, Spider got things wrong.
And I wasn’t going to lose Taylor because he got fed incorrect information.
Cade shook his head. “Martel has a hit out on you, Bull. I don’t need to tell you that you’re going to have to make some changes. At least until we get this figured out.”
“I already have this figured out.”
“Yeah? What are you planning?”
“I’m going to find out who the assassin is and I’m going to kill him.”
“How you figure on doing that?”
“I’m going to go straight to the horse’s mouth.”
“You’re going to ask Martel?”
“Yes. Right before I put a bullet between his eyes.”
BULL
Later that afternoon, I headed north to Sunflower County to meet my contact at the FBI, Special Agent Guy Everett.
Everett was your quintessential special agent. Black suit. Crisp shirt. Tidy hair and cleanly shaven. Somewhere in his early forties, he looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a goddamn fashion magazine.
Surprisingly, after twenty years chasing down the bad guys, he wasn’t jaded. Because Special Agent Guy Everett made his own rules. He bent the law only to the point of not actually breaking it.
From time to time, that was where I came in.
Over the years we’d helped each other out. If something I needed fell into his jurisdiction, he fed me intel on it, and nine times out of ten, the result meant his case ended before he had the responsibility of closing it.
Other times, if I had information that was valuable to him, I shared it. But only if it was in my best interests, of course.
We met just out of Coldwater, on a roadside next to a sweeping field of corn crops.
“We have eyes and ears on the ground in Chicago,” he said, unwrapping a stick of gum and bending it into his mouth.
“Chicago?”
“That’s where Martel’s been hiding out.”
“Been hiding out?”
“As of two days ago, he’s holed up in a small town just out of Jackson.” He reached into his breast pocket. “It will require a quiet visit. Not ten Harley Davidsons riding into town, do you understand me?”
He handed me a piece of paper with an address on it.
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re giving him to me?”
“I’m giving you time. What you do with that is up to you.” Everett couldn’t come out and say it. I had to read between the lines. “We have to secure a warrant first.”
“But you’re hoping I’ll get to him first?”
“Would save a lot of paperwork.”
I nodded. “How long have I got?”
“I’ll wait to file for the warrant this afternoon. You’ve got twenty-four hours.”
As soon as I left him, I called chapel and filled in the rest of the club. We spent a couple of hours formulating a plan. As we were finishing up, I was surprised to see Ruger walk in. I’d told him to take some time off with Chastity and his son.
After the room emptied, he hung back.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Chance called me to bring me up to speed.”
“Why aren’t you at the hospital with Chastity?”
“Because my wife and I both agree that I need to be here.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re making mistakes and we’re both worried it’s going to get you killed.”
I looked at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Why did you visit Everett without me?”
“Relax, the risk was low.”
“Don’t tell me to fucking relax. It makes me nervous when you go rogue on me.”
“Meeting up with an informant is not going rogue. You’re overreacting.” I headed for the door. “You were at the hospital, where you should fucking be right now.”
“You’ve got a hit out on you. Or has your girlfriend got you so fucking distracted you’ve forgotten?”
I stopped walking and looked at my sergeant-at-arms. Did everyone know about Taylor and me? “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I think you’re distracted and that makes me nervous.” His eyes hardened. “You’re taking stupid risks.”
Beneath my skin, a sudden anger began to simmer. I didn’t like the way he was talking, suggesting that I was not capable of making the right decisions based on the intel sitting in front of me.
My whole fucking life had been spent evaluating risks.
I knew what I was doing.
“I’m not distracted.” I glared at him.
“Well, I fucking beg to differ. Martel has a fucking hitman waiting to put a slug in your fucking ass, and you’re out there on
your own without any back up.”
My anger was scratching to get out. Ruger was overreacting.
The truth was, I doubted Martel had a hit on me. If he did, something would’ve happened by now. I bit back my temper because I knew Ruger was only looking out for me.
When I went to walk out, he stood between me and the door.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“No more risks.”
“The only person taking risks is you, right now. Get out of my way.”
I responded with the coldest, darkest look I have ever given Ruger. It was one I usually saved for the likes of Behemoth or Churchill, or any of my rivals.
Not my sergeant-at-arms.
Or my best friend.
But right now, he was pushing my last button.
Without another word, he stepped away.
“Get back to the hospital. You should be with your wife and kid.”
I brushed past him and walked through the clubhouse to my bike. I climbed on and lit her up with a flick of my wrist and roared out of the compound. I was pissed at Ruger, but at the end of the day I knew he was right.
I was distracted by Taylor.
I just didn’t want to hear it.
The address Everett gave me for Martel’s hideout was a two-hour drive out of Destiny. A small town built around a vast area of wetlands and mosquito-ridden swamp. It was a nothing town. Barely on the map. But it was close to the highways and connecting arterials, making it the perfect place to control his new drug distribution business.
He was holed up in a spacious log cabin surrounded by Carolina ash and pond cypress. A two-story mansion with a shingle roof and a wide porch. The perfect lair for an exiled crime lord.
We descended at twilight when the shadows were long and the tall trees were silhouetted against a dying sky. Seven Kings of Mayhem moving stealthily through the darkness, armed and ready to lay claim to Martel’s death. Despite knowing I was about to finally face my nemesis and end his days on this Earth, I was calm. I was steady. I was clearheaded. Everything I needed to be until this was done. And I wouldn’t be anything else until I was burying Martel in the damp soil of this blink-and-you’d-miss-it town.