“All right, all right…for fuck’s sake would you idiots shut up,” he shouts over everyone, knocking the mallet against the table. “Pull your dicks out of your asses and quit acting like a bunch of yentas.”
“Yentas?” Riggs questions, peering at Jack over his shades. “You got Yiddish in you, Parrish?”
“Remind me again, who voted yes on giving this guy a patch?” Jack questions Blackie.
“It was unanimous,” he replies.
“Was I on the Lithium then?”
“Yeah.”
“So, the meds never worked,” Jack mutters, tossing the mallet onto the table.
“Stop it,” Riggs exclaims. “You love me.”
Clearing my throat, I press my hand against my leg, forcing it to stay still and turn my attention to Jack.
“As much as I hate to break up the love affair you two got going on, you said Rick had information for us.” Pausing, I glance around the table. “Where is he?”
“He’ll be here,” Cobra assures.
“While we wait on him, I should probably tell you Gina heard from her brother,” Stryker interjects. His fiancée is the sister of the up-and-coming gangster, Rocco Spinelli. Rocco took over his uncle’s empire after his death, a man who Jack was very close with. When the shit with Yankovich hit the fan, someone shot Rocco and until now, we didn’t know where he was or if he had even survived.
“Good to know that guinea bastard is alive,” Jack mutters, swiping a hand over his face. “Where the fuck has been hiding?”
“I don’t know but, he did get on the phone with me and told me that his underboss would be contacting you.”
“Great, more mob bullshit,” Jack mutters.
“I kinda miss Rocco,” Riggs says. “He always brought the best desserts.”
“Any word on Wolf?” Deuce asks.
I don’t miss the look Pipe and Riggs exchange and I wonder if I’m the only one who catches it.
“Nico was released from the hospital,” Linc supplies from the other end of the table. “But other than that, I got nothing.”
“The poor bastard must be bored shitless,” Deuce says before pausing. “I bet his tomatoes are thriving though.”
Silence settles in before Jack claps his hands together and leans over the table, drawing everyone’s attention back to him.
“Wolf will come around. We just need to be patient with him,” he says, diverting his eyes to Riggs. “Why don’t you bring us up to speed on the info you gave Rick on the tattoo.”
“Right,” Riggs says. Folding his hands behind his head, he leans back in his seat and meets my gaze. “So, your girl has a good eye,” he reveals. “There aren’t too many who have that tattoo and it does link the guy in the zoo to the Sinaloa Cartel.”
“Whoa,” Pipe interrupts. “The Sinaloa Cartel? That’s what we’re fucking dealing with?”
“You’ve heard of them?” I question, slicing my eyes toward him.
“Aye,” Pipe mutters, scratching his jaw. “They’ve been around since the eighties.”
“They’re also the most fucking powerful drug trafficking organization in the world,” Blackie hisses, looking at Jack. “Man, we’re not equipped for this.”
Ignoring him, Jack focuses on Pipe.
“Last I heard, they weren’t over here,” he says.
“They’re big on the Pacific coast,” Pipe agrees with a nod.
“Right but they traffic throughout the United States,” Riggs informs us.
“The tattoo the guy from the zoo had isn’t the original ink associated with the cartel,” Needles chimes in. “In the early years they were big on marijuana and the tattoo was a hand wrapped around pot plant. They’ve evolved a lot since then, pushing everything from coke to ecstasy and so has their ink. Back in the day, all cartel members had the same tattoos branding them but, with homeland security breathing heavy down their backs and the government trying to control our borders, they’re more inclined to ink something generic. Like a skull or MS-13 is just three dots and they can blend into anything.”
“Parrish,” Blackie calls, causing me to look back at the two men in charge. “These guys are fucking wide. They don’t just get their shit from Mexico. Their product comes from Columbia and even South Asia. We’re looking at a global operation here,” he says, leaning close to Jack’s ear. “Now, look around the table. We’re sitting strong with ten.”
Blackie is right. We’re no match for an organization this massive. I don’t know if Junior was delusional or if he had some sort of death wish to get involved with Sinaloa. What I do know, is I’m going to have to go back to the drawing board because club or no club, I won’t let these motherfuckers touch what’s mine.
If I’m riding alone, then I’m riding to my grave, not Mac’s and not Ryders.
Too wrapped up in my own head, I don’t notice Rick arrive until he’s sitting next to Riggs. Opening a file, he greets Jack and hands me a photograph.
“Is that the man you saw at the zoo?”
Lifting the photo, I study the mugshot and nod.
“Javier Santos,” Rick supplies, looking at Jack. “He’s the leader of a gang in Queens and a known member of the Sinaloa Cartel. Over the last six years, he’s been climbing the ranks and is one of the top earners, trafficking cocaine.”
“I’m confused,” Stryker says. “What is this Javier guy have to do with anything? Is he the one who killed your brother?”
“No,” Rick answers for me. At that revelation, I raise an eyebrow.
“You know who killed my brother?”
“You think I’d come to this table with just a name of some guy you pointed out at the zoo? I’ve been in Kentucky, sniffing around your brother’s shit. No offense, but he’s a cunt. Or was a cunt.”
“A cunt or not, he played with the big dogs,” Pipe says.
Rick taps his hand against the table, demanding my attention.
“About eight years ago you were in the can doing a bid, yeah?”
“That’s right.”
“Your brother was second in command and after your stepfather who is still the president of the club, right?”
“Yes,” I confirm.
“Okay, well they linked up with the Sinaloa cartel around that time. They weren’t big, just a go between. They didn’t deal. They were mules, trafficking the product from one state line to another, supplying the dealers with what they needed. At the time, your brother got involved with a girl, Valeria Garcia. She was the sister of a guy with the same ranking as this Javier person,” he says, flipping through the stack of papers in front of him. “Sergio Garcia,” he supplies.
“Okay,” I follow.
“Sergio didn’t know about their relationship. The club had other issues going on at the time, a beef with some gangbangers in Lexington. Anyway, she was with Junior at some motel when someone decided to strike against the club and she was killed. Junior and your stepfather tried to cover it up and from what I gather they did a shit job. About six months ago a contractor purchased land just outside of La Grange, when they excavated it, they found Valeria’s body.”
“You mean what was left of it,” Riggs mutters.
“Wait a minute,” I interrupt. “My mother said Junior killed the daughter of some cartel guy. Are you saying differently?”
“No, what happened was, Junior and Crank thought the Lexington gang was responsible for Valeria’s death. Crank didn’t want problems with the cartel and that’s why they covered the death. If Garcia found out Junior was banging his sister and she got killed on his dime that would annihilate business between the two.”
“What do you mean Junior and Crank thought the gang killed Valeria?”
“Sergio knew about Junior and Valeria. He warned her to stop seeing him. Without Junior, Sergio couldn’t deal. Your brother was the one giving him the product. Valeria didn’t listen, your brother fell in love with her and Sergio got nervous. He feared your brother’s loyalty lied with Valeria’s pussy and so, he killed
his sister to save his pocket. Junior found out two months ago and killed Sergio’s daughter in retaliation.”
“Jesus, fuck.”
“So, Sergio is the guy after Mac and Ryder?” Jack asks.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of dealings this Crank guy has going on. I don’t know if he’s still working with Sergio or not. You asked me to connect you with the guy who killed Junior and that’s Sergio. Whether or not he’s gunning for Mac and the kid I don’t know.”
“Milly wouldn’t have called me if she didn’t think Sergio was going to hurt them.”
“I don’t think the threat is on the girl,” Rick supplies. “If he’s going to go after anyone, my guess would be Junior’s son. However, if you’re looking to sit down with this guy, it’s not going to happen.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, for one, he’s not going to take a meeting with someone he doesn’t know and if you think for one second, he’s going to take a meeting with someone with a patch then you’re not wrapped too tight,” he says, pointing a finger to my temple. “Junior’s death is all over Kentucky. The whole fucking state is bracing for a war and waiting for Crank to strike. Garcia is flying under the radar just like your girl and her boy are.”
“So, what do we do?” Needles ask. “We just sit here with our guns drawn in case this guy decides he wants the kid?”
“Bas,” Blackie calls. “I’m all for keeping your girl and the kid safe and I give you my word, I’ll jump in front of a fucking bullet, but we can’t lure this guy out of hiding. We have nothing to offer him in exchange for Mac and Ryder’s immunity.”
“Yeah, imagine pulling up to a meeting with the Signora Cartel and offering them Wolf’s tomato plants and Pipe’s used car parts.”
“Riggs,” Pipe warns. “Now, isn’t the time, and it’s Sinaloa.”
“Signora, Sinaloa—it all sounds the same,” he argues.
“You said we can’t get in with Garcia,” Jack starts. “Fine, get us in with Javier.”
“The zookeeper?” Riggs exasperates.
“Tell him we got guns, and we got Brooklyn. He can have both if he gets us a meeting with Garcia,” Jack continues. The entire room goes silent as we all turn and stare at him in shock.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” Pipe accuses.
“Not yet,” Jack replies, leveling him with a glare. “Do it.”
“Jack,” I interject. “We can’t do that,” I say.
Maybe if he hears it from me, it’ll knock some sense into him because what he is suggesting goes against everything this club has stood for since he took the gavel. I won’t have a hand in the demise of this brotherhood. I’ll figure out another way to keep Junior’s demons away from Mac and Ryder.
“Listen here,” he says. “All of you motherfuckers, look at me and listen to what I say,” he hollers, slamming his hand on the table. Pointing a finger at everyone, he continues. “I’m about done with you cunts questioning my authority and my sanity. You sit at this table, you ride with me and if you don’t like it, leave your patch on the table and get the fuck out of here.”
His eyes slice to me.
“You sat at this table and you asked me to help you protect your woman and kid, did you not?”
“Yes, but—”
“You brought them to my home, sat around my wife’s table and shared a meal with us, did you not?”
“I did.”
“You called me on the phone and asked if Reina would mind watching that boy. You trusted me and my wife to take care of him, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“Found out what happened to your girl, who’d you tell?”
“You.”
“Who do you ride with?”
“You.”
“That makes you and yours, mine.”
He turns to Pipe.
“Make the call.”
And just like that, I became property of Parrish.
Chapter Twenty-six
A lot can change in a couple of weeks. A woman can enroll both, her son and herself in school. She can get a new license and a stylish new hairstyle too. She can develop all the photos she has on her camera and hang them in frames all over her home. She can get a part-time job as a receptionist at a garage and she can discover her libido is alive and well.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my body and wipe the steam from the mirror. Grabbing the brush from the vanity, I run it through my wet locks and marvel over the length. Two days ago, I chopped my hair off. Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating but I did cut it up to my shoulders and for the first time in my life, I added highlights to my virgin hair. It felt good to do something different, something for myself and gave me a boost of confidence I needed.
Deciding to let my hair dry naturally, I unravel the towel and grab a bottle of lotion and lather my skin—another indulgence I haven’t let myself have in a while. Once I finish that, I brush my teeth and pull on a pair of panties. Reaching for my robe, I pause and let it drop to the floor. There is something invigorating about standing in front of the mirror in nothing but a pair of skimpy panties, knowing there’s a man lying in your bed, waiting for you.
Stepping over the robe, I look at myself in the mirror and smile.
Smooth legs, check.
Soft skin, check.
Kickass thong, check.
Bringing my hands to my tits, I lift them in my hands and cock my head to the side. Pregnancy cost them to lose some of their elasticity but they’re still one of my best assets. I pinch my nipples and roll them between my fingers, watching as they peak. Then I turn around and glance over my shoulder at my round ass. It’s a good ass. Once I’ve built myself up, I laugh nervously and reach for the door. Flicking the lights off, I step into the bedroom and spot Bas. Fully clothed, except for his bare feet, he lays across the middle of the bed fast asleep.
All that prepping in the bathroom and the only one who caught my show was Jimmy Kimmel.
Padding towards the bed, I lift my knee onto the mattress and stare at my handsome man. I wonder if he would mind if I woke him up. After making several trips to bring everything from his apartment here, he’s probably exhausted.
Even though he has spent all his nights here since that first time in the kitchen, I wanted to ask him about Dori. What they were and if they were over. My heart knew there was nothing for me to worry about, it was my head that needed the reminder. I might’ve asked the questions with my eyes because yesterday he surprised me by telling me he was moving all his stuff in here today. He also told me about Dori and that they were never more than a thing of convenience.
Did I like it? No.
Did I accept it? Yeah, I did. I knew there were other women in his life.
I also knew there wouldn’t be anymore.
We were back together, a fact I’m not sure I’ve fully processed yet.
Deciding I need a reminder, I throw my other leg over his body and straddle him. Bending my head, I press my lips to his. Kissing him softly, I whisper against his mouth.
“Tell me to go to bed and I’ll stop.”
When he doesn’t respond, I smile over his lips and lower myself, grinding against his crotch, waking up his cock. That seems to do the trick because his mouth responds to mine as his hands grip my hips.
“Mmm,” I murmur, as my tongue teases his lips. “Wake up, sleepy head.”
Breaking our kiss, I lean back and watch his eyes flutter open.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Are you naked?” he asks groggily as he uses my hips to guide my pussy over his cock.
“Well, I’m wearing panties,” I answer, leaning down to kiss him again. “But that’s it.”
“Take them off,” he growls, moving his hands to my ass. “Now.”
Hooking my thumbs under the scrap of elastic, I shimmy the waistband over my hips and roll off him, peeling them away from my legs. I’m about to toss them across the room when he grabs my wrist and plucks them from m
y hand. Turning my head, I watch as he brings them to his nose. Clenching my thighs together, he breaths my scent in before releasing an animalistic groan and rolling over me. His hands grip my knees and he shoves my legs as far as they’ll. Lowering himself he attacks my pussy with his teeth and tongue.
“Next time you feel like waking me up with your pussy make sure it’s on my mouth,” he warns, spreading me with his fingers. He blows against my clit before lifting his eyes to mine. “Got it, Mac?”
“Got it,” I croak, arching my hips off the bed. “Now quit talking and start lickin.”
“Always so greedy in bed,” he murmurs before he swipes his tongue down the length of my pussy. Plunging his fingers deep inside, his mouth hovers over my clit, licking and sucking until I’m bucking and chasing a high only he can give me.
“That’s it,” he mutters. “All over my fingers.”
A moan escapes me as I crash and come hard and fast. I’m barely finished when he replaces his fingers with his tongue, lapping at me with quick even strokes. My pussy spasms and my legs widen as I squirm under his mouth.
He keeps at it.
Every nerve snaps.
My tits bounce as the cycle starts all over again.
His fingers move in and out.
One, two, three.
He goes for four.
I wonder if he’ll shove his whole fist up there and if it will fit. Then he flicks my clit, and that’s all it takes to drive me over the cliff and this time, when I come, I feel my release drip onto his fingers. For a second, I think I’m dead. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. I can’t do anything but lay there.
Bas pushes off me and rubs his wet hand over my belly, spreading the remnants of my release into my skin. Reaching my breasts, he tweaks my nipples, working them into sharp protruding buds.
“I fucking love your tits,” he rasps. “I want to fuck them,” he admits, squeezing them and pushing them together. “Want to see my cock disappear between them.”
“What else do you want?” I encourage, rising on my elbows. My eyes dart to where he massages my tits and I watch in awe as he pays extra attention to my nipples, rolling them tentatively between his fingers.
The Devil Don't Sleep Page 19