Lick: Devil's Fury Book 2

by Torrie Robles

  I watch as Cruise put his hands up in surrender, leaning back in his chair. “Just trying to continue the conversation.”

  “Well, the conversation is over,” Cut speaks up, throwing his beer can into the fire. He takes Lily by the hand and pulls her up. “Night, y’all. I’m taking my wife home.”

  The sound of squeaking metal makes me turn my head towards Bianca’s house just as she walks through the adjoining gate, followed by two officers. Cut stops when he sees the dark blue uniforms walk closer to the fire.

  “Tylan?” Her voice is soft. Bianca looks over at me, her eyes filled with worry. “These gentlemen need to speak with you.”

  “Are you Tylan McCoy?” Lick doesn’t say anything, he just nods. “Do you have a sister by the same of Betsy Sunshine McCoy?” He nods again, the color in his face slowly drains. “We’re sorry to inform you that your sister has passed. We need you to come down to the morgue and identify her body.”

  “No.”

  “Sir, we need you to come with us.”

  “No,” Lick responds again. “No.”

  “Sir, if you’d please–”

  “No!” Lick screams, picking up the chair he was just sitting in and throwing it. The officers both reach for their guns.

  “Don’t!” I shoot from my seat. “Please don’t. There’s no reason for that. He’s in shock, that’s all. He’s not dangerous.” My feet carry me over to Lick. He’s bent slightly at the waist, his shoulders heaving up and down as his body starts to shake. I place my hand on his back and he flinches at my touch.

  “How?” Lick’s voice is muffled as he speaks into his chest.

  “Sorry, sir?”

  “He asked how,” I answer.

  “It was an overdose. Heroin.”

  The feel of cotton beneath my hand falls away as Lick crumbles to his knees.

  Lick, age 13

  “Open your fucking mouth, boy.”

  I’m sitting at the edge of my bed with my eyes closed, refusing to see what’s right in front of me. My blood is boiling with a rage I’m becoming more and more familiar with. This is happening nightly, ripping at my innocence piece by piece.

  “No.”

  “You better do what I tell you, or your mama’s gonna get sick.”

  I don’t care if she gets sick. I don’t care if she dies. If she were gone, then me and my sister would be out of this nightmare. Maybe then we could go someplace where people actually care about us.

  “You don’t want your mama to get sick, do ya?” I don’t answer. “Hmm, then if you can’t help her then maybe that baby sister of yours can. She is so sweet, isn’t she?”

  I feel my heart start to race and sweat break out on my forehead. I hate my life. I hate this. I hate him, and I hate her. I want to go. I want to run far away from here. I want to go and never look back. But I can’t leave my sister, and I don’t know how to get her and me out without getting caught and brought right back here.

  So I do the only thing I can to keep my sister safe.

  A while later, I hear the soft voice of my sister as she peeks her head into my room. “Ty?”

  “Why are you out of your room?”

  “I don’t wanna be alone,” she whispers.

  “Come on.”

  Standing, I grab her hand. I don’t want to be in my room anymore. She follows me out and through the kitchen. Once we’re out back in our small yard, I take a deep breath. The walls of the house feel like they’re closing in on me. It’s been almost a year since my dad went away and I haven’t been able to see or talk to him.

  I turn my head and see my sister sitting on the ground facing the sliding glass door. She’s watching my mother and Teddy push that poison into their arms. “Bets, get away from there. You don’t need to watch that stuff.”

  “Why does she do it?” She may only be nine, but my sister has seen and experienced more in her short life than any kid should.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why does she allow those people to go into your room?” Her question makes me feel sick inside.

  “I don’t know.”

  She turns herself around to face me. “I’m not going to do it.”

  I tilt my head in question, not sure what she means.

  “The drugs. I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to do that awful stuff. I’m going to be a good mom one day. I’m going to love my kids, and I’m not going to do that.”

  She knows way too much for her age. I swallow past the emotion I feel well within my throat. “I hope not.”

  “I’m not, Ty. I promise, I’m not.”

  I sure as hell hope not.

  My boots squeak along the tiled floor as I follow an officer down the empty corridor. I can feel the heat of Jenni’s body radiating onto my arm, she’s that close, but she isn’t touching me. I’m not sure how I feel about that. The affection of someone who cares is foreign to me.

  When the shock of the news that my sister was dead started to settle, I needed to be alone, but she was there. She gave me just enough space to process everything, but not enough space where I felt like I had to deal with everyone on my own.

  “Like we said, we got the call about the body of a Jane Doe–”

  “Betsy,” Jenni corrects them. “You know her name, so she’s no longer a Jane Doe. Please don’t disrespect her.”

  “Sorry. We found Betsy behind the Easy Eight motel over on Highland. Once we arrived, there was no pulse. The medical examiner believes she had been there for a couple of hours.”

  The pain of how my sister died slices through me. Alone.

  We stop at two swinging double doors. The word ‘Morgue’ is etched on a plastic plaque stuck to both doors. “This is where we leave you. You’ll need to go through those doors, and the M.E. can help you from here,” the officer tells us before he turns and walks away.

  Before we can proceed, a woman with dark skin and even darker hair walks through the doors. “Mr. McCoy?” she questions, and I nod in response. “I’m Dr. Alford. I’m sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances.” She stretches her hand to mine, and I take it with a soft shake. “Right this way. I’ll try to take as little of your time as possible.” She gives me a slight smile before descending back behind the doors.

  The feel of Jenni’s fingers intertwining with mine stops my next step. I turn to finally face her. “Will you stay out here?”

  “No.”

  Fuck, this woman. “Listen, you didn’t know my sister.”

  “But I know you.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but I need to do this on my own.”

  “You don’t, though. You think you do, but you don’t. Not when you have someone—when you have me standing here with you.”

  “Let me do this on my own.”

  “You don’t need to be on your own–”

  “Just get the fuck out of here!” I yell. “Christ! Just listen to me.”

  Her eyes go wide, and she takes a step back.

  I hear the door open behind me. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, no problem.” Jenni’s voice sounds defeated. She brings her eyes back to mine. Fuck, she looks so fucking defeated, and I fucking did that.

  “I was just leaving.” She shoves her hands in the front pocket of her Devil’s Fury sweatshirt and then turns on her heels and walks away from me.

  I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. I know I’ll need to fix that with Jenni. She sure as shit didn’t deserve my yelling at her.

  “Mr. McCoy.”

  I follow the doc inside to identify my sister’s body. Once I pass through the swinging doors, I follow her down another hallway.

  “We were able to identify your sister through fingerprints. You were listed as her next of kin on all police files.” She looks back at me as she continues along the corridor.

  “I’m a little shocked she had me listed at all. It’s been years since I’ve seen or heard from her.”

  “It’s not uncommon.”

  It
may not be uncommon for many, but it is for me. The last time I saw my sister she was just a child.

  She pushes through another door, and I follow. The temperature is drastically different from the hall to this room. “Fuck, it’s cold in here.” Bringing my hands to my mouth, I cup them around my mouth, blowing my breath into them.

  “It has to be. Some of these bodies must lay in here for weeks to either be claimed or processed. This is where we keep everyone who comes in from the streets. Most are homeless and transients.” Chills run up my spine as the thought that I’m in a room full of dead people settles.

  She scans the clipboard hanging on the wall, then walks to the far left and pulls the bottom table out. The sound of the wheels running along the metal track echoes along the walls, stopping with a thud. I watch as the body in the bag teeters back and forth from the motion.

  “I need to warn you, Mr. McCoy, she may not look like the sister you knew.”

  “The last time I saw her she was only thirteen. I’m sure she’s changed a lot over the last sixteen years.”

  She bends down and starts to pull at the zipper, but stops. “I would just like to warn you that your sister has a tremendous amount of scarring on her body from continuous needle usage. She has sores on her face and limbs, and the majority of her teeth have been either pulled or rotted away.”

  “You have no idea the shit I’ve seen, Doc. I can take it.”

  “All right.” She pulls back the zipper and pushes the plastic open.

  She wasn’t fucking joking.

  My stomach drops at the sight, and I swear to Christ, if I hadn’t seen my mother’s dead body with my own fucking eyes, I’d think I was looking at her now. She looks like the typical fucking junkie.

  “Fuck…” I say under my breath. Reaching out, I touch her lifeless body.

  “Is this Betsy McCoy? Is this person your sister?”

  “Y–” My voice cracks. “Yes.”

  “What would you like done with her body?”

  Pulling my eyes away from my dead sister, I feel rage like I haven’t felt in years start to heat my skin. What the fuck am I supposed to do? How in the hell did she end up like this? This wasn’t supposed to be her life. She isn’t supposed to be dead at twenty-fucking-nine.

  My fucking mother.

  This is her fault. She did this. She fucking killed her, and I’m left to pay for it. Just like always. I’m the one left with the reminder of what that cunt did to our family.

  Fuck her.

  I need to get out of here. I can’t fucking take this shit anymore.

  “Mr. McCoy?” Her voice sounds a million miles away. “I need to know what you’d like for me to do with the body. Is there a place I can call and have her transferred?”

  My gaze falls to the corpse of my sister. “W–What?”

  “I need to know what your next step is.”

  “Um…” My eyes dart to the doctor’s, then back to my sister. I feel like I can’t breathe. I suck in air, but I can’t get my lungs to take in the air. “Fuck. I don’t know.” And that’s the fucking truth.

  I watch as she bends over and zips the bag back up which makes it even harder for me to breathe. I take a step back from the body. My sister’s body. “I’ll give you a couple of days and let you decide. That’s the best that I can do, Mr. McCoy. Please get back to us as soon as you’ve made a decision.” She hands me a card, and I turn my back on her, but before I’m out the door, her voice draws me back.

  “Oh, Mr. McCoy? The autopsy shows evidence of multiple births.”

  I turn to face her. “Excuse me?”

  “Your sister has given birth. Her cervix and uterus both show signs of past pregnancies—multiple pregnancies.”

  I push through the doors and into the night air. My head is spinning with information. I’ll never be able to forget how far gone my sister looked. That thought both pisses me off and makes me sick. I put up with so much shit when I was younger all in the name of keeping my sister safe. All with the hope that she would grow up and live her life the total opposite of our mother.

  “Wanna ride?”

  Cut’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. He’s sitting on his bike with my empty bike right next to his. Jenni drove us here in her car, but now my bike is here, ready for me. I know she called Cut because she knew I’d need to ride. I was a total fucking douche to her, and she still made sure I had a way home.

  Too. Fucking. Precious.

  “Fuck yeah.”

  Lick, age 17

  For three years, I took Teddy’s shit.

  I was too weak, and small to defend myself from his advances. But once I started growing, I used both my size and my hatred for him to finally get out from under his thumb. The night when I left him broken and wheezing was the first time since my father was taken that I felt free. I spent three years of my life getting fucked by people who I didn’t want touching me. What I did to Teddy was minor to what I was owed by every single fuck who came into my room and got off a hurting a fucking child. There are some sick fucks out there and I know I’d only had a taste of their perversion.

  Anger became my go to when things would start to go to shit. With my anger, came fighting, stealing, and anything else that I felt I could use as an outlet. Suddenly school didn’t mean shit to me. Who the fuck has time to study when their mother is tweaked out of her mind, and your job is to make sure your baby sister isn’t touched? Who the hell has time to learn who sailed the ocean fucking blue in 1492?

  Moving was probably one of the best things that happened. Most of our problems stayed behind, and getting the fuck out of that town allowed me to meet Devin Jr. He’s become my life saver. His dad is the president of one of the local MC clubs and he’s given me a job. It’s crap work, but he tells me once I’m of age I can become a prospect. Devin Jr. says he’s doing the same thing and there’s a chance that one day he’ll follow in his father’s footsteps and lead Devil’s Fury, just like his old man.

  Hanging with the MC allows me plenty of time to stay away from the apartment we live in. There’s a new dude who hangs around my mom all the time. He’s still as seedy as Teddy ever was, but he doesn’t give me shit and I don’t have to do shit for my mom to get what she needs. That’s all that matters to me. I still make sure that my sister is good, but as soon as she got her boobs and started having her mood swings it’s been hard for me to be around her. She and the bitch go at it all the time. There’s only so much female hormones I can take.

  “I can’t stand you!” I hear my sister’s voice coming from the apartment as I walk up.

  “I don’t give a fuck if you can’t. I’m your mother.”

  “You’re nothing to me!” my sister yells back.

  I open the front door. My sister comes stomping in from the hallway with a bag in her hand. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I’m sorry, Ty, but I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t keep…” Her words fall as she shakes her head.

  “Hey.” I reach out and grab her hand. “You can’t what?”

  “Don’t fucking coddle her,” my mother says, stumbling from her room. Her hair is greasier than normal, and she hasn’t changed her clothes in almost a week.

  I can’t stand her. I fucking hate her, and the only reason I put up with her shit is because of Betsy. I’m not leaving her here alone, and I’ve got no place for us right now. But once I’m in at the MC, I’m taking my sister away from this place and hopefully get her a life that she deserves.

  “What the fuck are you fighting about now?”

  “She ain’t pulling her weight around here,” she says as my blood runs cold.

  My back tenses up as I turn to face my mother. I bring myself to my full height. “What the fuck does that mean?” I know what it means, but I need to hear it come from my mother’s mouth.

  “She thinks she can live here and eat my motherfucking food and watch my motherfucking TV and sleep in my motherfucking bed and not have to pay for anything?”

&n
bsp; The urge to wrap my fingers around her neck and squeeze the life from her pathetic body is great. “Betsy, you need to go to your room.” I stalk towards my mother, making her step back.

  “I want to go, Ty.” Betsy’s voice is small.

  “Get in your room, Betsy. Now!” I roar. She grumbles about me not being the boss of her, but takes her bag and walks back down the hall.

  Once she’s gone, I continue to stalk the piece of shit that gave me life. “Tell me you’re yelling because your thirteen-year-old daughter doesn’t want to get a job at the local burger joint.” I take another step, lifting my finger to her face. “Please tell me that you’re yelling because your child doesn’t want to do her chores.” Taking another step, I crowd her space causing her to continue to walk back until she’s up against the wall of the living room.

  “I need my stuff,” she tells me point blank.

  I slam my fist into the sheetrock right above her head making her jump. “You’re a piece of shit,” I seethe.

  Fire rips across my cheek as her hand connects with my skin. “I’m your mother. Don’t you even think to speak to me that way!” Her breath smells like rotten food, and I can feel the taste of bile rise in the back of my throat.

  “You haven’t been our mother for years.” My voice is low, my words slow so I know she can hear me. “You are shit.” I push my finger into her boney chest. “You look like shit,” poke “You talk like shit,” poke “and you smell like shit.” Poke.

  Her eyes start to fill with unshed tears as she takes in my words.

  I smirk. “One day soon, I hope you’ll end up alone and pissing yourself, wondering where your life has gone. The shit you stick in your arm is going to eat away at more than your teeth and your body, and I hope the day it happens I get to see it. I hope you’ll get one second of clarity and reach out to me for help so I can finally tell you to fuck off.” I pound my fist into the wall again leaving her shaking and hopefully pissing herself.