RECYCLED MEMORY

  It never helped the longing.

  The yearning I felt for the girl I loved with all my heart.

  The diner came into view, and I slowed down enough to park the bike on the side of the building and away from the front entrance. I was in no hurry to confront Maribel, after all. What the fuck was I going to say? ‘Remember me, the asshole who fucked you and then fucked you? Want to sit and have a cup of coffee?’ Yeah, that would go over like a fart during church. I’d been shot, almost blown up more times than I can count, and ambushed four out of five days in the field, yet my heart was about to beat out of my chest with the thought of talking to an ex-girlfriend who I hadn’t seen in eight years. Maybe I should just send her a telegram and save myself the trouble of a face-to-face. Stop acting like such a pussy and just go talk to the girl.

  Raised voices from inside interrupted my internal debate. Two, maybe three men demanded information, and from their tone, they were losing patience. I pressed my back against the cement wall and chanced a look at what the fuck was going on. Two men dressed in suits had Maribel pinned against a wall, big fuckers, towered over her small frightened form.

  “Your bitch-ass boyfriend stole from us, cunt, said he gave you the money. Now, where is it?” one of them shouted in her face. Spittle flew from his twisted mouth.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any money. Please, just go away and leave me the hell alone,” she begged.

  “BULLSHIT! I’m through playing games with you, bitch. Give it up, or I’ll take it out that pretty little ass of yours.”

  My chest expanded with pure unadulterated motherfuckin’ rage. Bastard threatened my woman and thought he would live to tell about it? No fucking way. My nines were in my hand, locked and loaded, ready to take his motherfucking ass down. As soon as the door swung inward, I pointed the barrel at each one of their heads. I had a taste for blood. Maribel was cowering in the corner of the diner, her face bright red and streaked with tears. The two men who had her caged in backed away when they heard the loud ring of that stupid cow bell over the door. My main concern was getting Maribel the fuck out of there and fast. She could curse me out later.

  “Back the fuck up and put your hands where I can see them,” I hissed.

  Of course, one of them had to act stupid and reach inside his suit jacket.

  Big fucking mistake.

  Pop. Pop.

  I shot him once in each of his legs. Fucker hit the ground like a ton of bricks and screamed out like a bitch. Maribel covered her mouth with her hands and stifled a terrified shriek. Blood leaked from the guy’s wounds like a sieve. He had about ten minutes before he bled out if his buddy didn’t get him to a hospital.

  “Best pick up your friend, unless you’d like to join him.”

  I pointed the gun at his dick and advanced the cartridge. He held up both hands in surrender and bent at the waist to lift up Sir-Bleeds-A-Lot off the floor in a huff. Maribel still hadn’t moved a muscle, and I didn’t want to risk her going into shock. I moved cautiously and stood in front of her to block the bloody view. Never once did I take my eyes off the two jerk-offs in the process. They were obviously hired help and wouldn’t hesitate to get the drop on me if given the chance.

  “This ain’t over, bitch,” the bleeder sputtered. “My boss is gonna rip you a new asshole.”

  “Tell him I’ll be waiting… with fucking bells on, cunt,” I seethed.

  I had just about enough of these Antonio Montana Scarface wannabes. I should just shoot them anyway and pretend I’d tripped and fallen over my own feet. Oops, sorry I blew your fucking brains out. What can I say? I’m clumsy. It pained me physically when the motherfuckers decided to leave quietly instead of trying their luck for a second time. I was looking forward to blasting off a few more rounds; it’d been a while. A faint whimper from Maribel as she stood behind me re-focused my attention to the woman who needed me. She had the strangest look on her face, a cross between surprise and annoyance, but so damn cute.

  “You know I’m gonna have to mop that shit up, right?”

  She pointed to the blood stain on the floor with a sassy tilt to her head. I wanted to kiss her pouty little mouth until she begged me to stop. My dick instantly hardened from the rush of adrenalin I felt from shooting that prick in the leg and the dark thoughts of pushing Maribel down to her knees and watching her suck my cock in the middle of the dark, crimson puddle. I smiled at the shocked expression on her face when I realized she’d noticed my hardness as it pointed north in her direction. I really was a sick fucker.

  “Missed me, Polly Pocket?”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Maribel

  THE SCENE BEFORE ME was way too familiar. Marcus and I speeding along a lonely highway, me trying desperately to hold on while he gunned his super-charged Harley for all its worth. The difference now was, we were no longer in high school and this wasn’t the school dance. Those men at the diner hadn’t been playing around; they’d been ready to kill me if Marcus hadn’t stopped them. Drew was the one who’d gotten me into this crazy mess to begin with, betting on fights even when he didn’t have the money. He’d dug himself into a serious hole with those guys, and for some reason they thought I was the one to help get him out of it.If that weren’t bad enough, Marcus had decided to finally come out of the shadows, guns ablaze, and shot up my place of business like Wyatt Earp. I was grateful he’d run those guys off, but that didn’t mean I wanted to spend time alone with him. Marcus didn’t exactly give me the chance to say no. He threw me over his shoulder firemen’s style, and before I could yell “cheese and crackers,” we were off and rolling.

  I wasn’t the only one who’d changed in the past eight years. Marcus was noticeably larger than the school boy I remembered. Noticeably larger… everywhere. Everything from the arms that lifted me up, to the muscled chest that I could no longer wrap my arms completely around while I rode on the back of the bike. I’d known I was gonna have to face him again; I just hadn’t imagined it would be so soon. I’d made peace a long time ago with what happened between the two of us; we could never go back.The powerful vibration from the engine beneath me and the cool breeze that blew against my face were just what I needed to sort through my alternating emotions. Drew was in a world of trouble and decided to hitch me to his shit wagon and drag me along for the ride. The last thing I needed to worry about was the goon squad showing up around every corner demanding their money, which I didn’t have. Drew had a lot of explaining to do if I ever reached him on the phone. I’d been calling nonstop for the last few days, and he still hadn’t returned my calls. I guess it was safe to say that death threats were the straw that broke the camel’s back and our relationship was pretty much over. Then, of course, I had Marcus Mecken to contend with. The lesser of two evils? Hardly. He’d picked up a few tricks during his time in the Marines, like shooting random people in the leg while he got off on it. What sort of person gets a hard-on after they nearly killed someone? Jiminy Cricket.

  Those first few years he was away, whenever I thought about Marcus, the despair was so intense, I never thought I could handle seeing him again. I was bitter, angry, and despondent all at once, and for a sixteen-year-old girl, it was the start of a downward spiral that took years to recuperate from. I didn’t blame him. As much as I wanted to, it wasn’t his fault. I’d had so much growing up to do. The years of pushing to be perfect finally took its toll, and I cracked. I wanted to find that magical thing that made life worth fighting for again, so in order to do that, I rejected all of the comforts of home, including my parents’ love. They couldn’t help me with what I needed to do. The climb up from rock bottom could only be achieved through trial and error. It wasn’t easy, but I did it on my own terms and without any help from naysayers. Drew’s lapse in judgement was one more thing I’d be forced to conquer on my own.

  It was me against the world, just like always.

  I had a feeling I knew where Marcus was taking us; the quick left down Main pretty much ga
ve it away. I could not believe I was back here again, considering I’d just left a few hours before. Would I ever be free of it? Instead of pulling up to the dirt road that lead to the playhouse, we made our way down the private path, which led to the main house. It was as beautiful as I remembered and just as homey. We dismounted the bike in complete silence. Marcus led the way up the stairs and inside. The living room area was newly decorated. Gone were the dark, manly colors and sparse personal touches. Photographs lined the walls and stood on the mantle, taken at different places and on different occasions. I recognized all the boys as they each stood tall and proud next to each other, but it was the women in the photos who gave me the greatest sense of unease. I stood in the center of the room and took it all in. They were so stunning, each one more beautiful than the next. I couldn’t help the feelings of ineptness that invaded my thoughts seeing their huge smiles and warm, loving eyes. What the fuck was I doing there, and why did it hurt so much to see Marcus with other women?

  “Oh, Marcus, I didn’t hear you come in, and you’ve brought company.”

  One of the women from the photographs breezed into the room and greeted Marcus with a sing-song voice. She fluttered right past him without missing a beat and stopped short once she reached the spot where I was standing. She was beyond gorgeous. Crazy hair that blew every which way when she walked, bright exotic eyes, and a welcoming smile that sparkled in the light. I immediately wanted to hate her. Get a grip, Maribel.

  “Hi,” she greeted me with an awkward wave of her hand.

  “I’m Clover, Range’s wife. Very nice to meet you. Any friend of Marcus is a friend of mine. Sorry, I tend to babble when I’m nervous; it’s a curse, I’m afraid.” She held out a hand.

  Whoa. Holy fucking shit on a shingle, she was Range’s wife? Talk about a misread. I really had to work on my observation skills. I was way off base with that one. I grabbed her outstretched hand and shook it as if it were a bottle of salad dressing. Poor girl probably had a dislocated shoulder now because of me.

  “I’m Maribel, Marcus’s…” What exactly am I to him now? A burden? “I’m an old friend from high school.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

  “Clover, where’s Range? I need to speak with him,” Marcus questioned.

  “He’s in the yard, like you really had to ask,” she gushed.

  “I’ll track him down. Let’s go, Pocket.”

  Marcus took a step toward what I could only assume was the back door right before Clover grabbed hold of my elbow and stopped me before I could follow.

  “Maribel should stay here, Marcus. The yard is no place for an old friend. Besides, I’m sure you’d like some man time with your brother without a bunch of cackling hens hanging around. I promise to take real good care of her.” She held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  Marcus silently asked me for permission before I nodded my head okay and he took off out the door. Clover just stood there with a silly smile on her face until she heard the lock click, then she sprang into action. She produced her cell phone from somewhere on her person and dialed the numbers so fast, she fat fingered it twice before she finally got it right.

  “Ash? Grab Shell and get your asses over here. We got a code sixty-nine dash three. Pronto.” Clover hung up and dialed another number, only this time she had to leave a message, which was equally as strange as the previous call.

  “Haven… it’s Clover. Stop your grinning and drop your linen. Clock out in five and grab the Jesus Juice on the way home. We got a code sixty-nine dash three. STAT.” She hung up the phone completely out of breath and gave me her full attention.

  “So…An old friend from high school, huh? Take a seat, friend. It’s about to go down.”

  _______________

  Now I knew what it felt like to be one of those microorganisms I’d studied under a microscope during advanced placement biology back in school. Four sets of assessing eyes peered back at me from across the dining room table, each one a laser beam aimed directly at my face. They were the women from the photos on the mantle, and they were all batshit crazy. Ten minutes, give or take, that’s how long it took for this cavalry of women to arrive at the junkyard. The crew of a trained fire department were less efficient than this bunch. I’d never seen anything like it. One by one, they ran inside dragging grocery bags full of junk food, cursing up a blue streak, and completely out of sorts. One of them was wearing two different shoes, for fuck’s sake. Whatever Clover called a code fifty-four or whatever the fuck, was equal to a DEFCON one level used by the armed forces. We spoke briefly about the relationship Marcus and I had shared in the past until I accidentally let one little fact slip that made the entire table go quiet. Oops.

  “Are you guys—? Is everything okay?” I hedged.

  “How are you related to that swamp rat, rotten snatch, butt boil, river cricket, son of a biscuit eating hoe-bag skank?” That loving comment came from Clover’s sister Shelly, who looked a bit green in the gills. She wasn’t drinking wine like the rest of the women but instead sipped on a glass of ginger ale directly to my left.

  “Wait a second.” I held up my hand. “She slept with all of the guys? Including Range?”

  They all nodded their heads with the exception of one.

  “She never fucked my man! HALLELUJAH!” Ashley, Clover’s other sister and Sebastian’s better half, spoke up proudly and did a little happy dance in her seat. It’s good to know that Marci was still winning friends and influencing people. What could I say? Sorry about my contaminated gene pool? Welcome to the club? She fucked my man, too? Let’s hunt that bitch down and rip her hair out? Okay, I just threw that one in, but still…

  “We’re getting off track here,” Clover redirected the group. “Tell us more about Marcus and what you plan to do about him now that he’s back.”

  That really was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Marcus

  I FOUND RANGE IN the circle of battle naked from the waist up shadow boxing. He must have been at it for some time. His hair was a sweaty mess, and he’d worked himself up to nice lather. There was no need to call out to him; he knew I was there. The short break gave me a chance to think about a few things before I engaged my brother with all the shit that had gone down. I’d felt more alive in that short ride to the yard than I had since leaving the Marines months ago. Maribel’s soft tits pressed against my back as we sped off into the night had felt like fucking heaven. My dick had already been hard from busting a cap in that big fucker’s ass; wouldn’t have taken much to pull my bike to the side of the road and fuck her senseless. She had no clue how badly I wanted her after all this time. One touch from her soft hands against my stomach had sent my lust-filled desire into hyper drive. I would have her beneath me again, screaming my name while I filled her with my cock. I swore that shit on my life.

  I never made a promise I didn’t intent to keep.

  “Brother?” Range wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt. “You good?”

  “Went to see Maribel.” I kicked at an imaginary rock on the ground. “Wanted to talk.”

  “Knew that was gonna happen.” He smirked. “’Bout time you took your head out of your ass and staked your claim.”

  “Ran into a little trouble down at that diner where she works,” I deadpanned.

  “The quiet-covert kind of trouble or the in-your-face-grab-my-passport-and-hide-me-at-a-fucking-safe-house kind?”

  Before I could answer, I heard the chatter of animated voices as they approached. Max and Sebastian were having a heated discussion about something. Knowing those two, it could have been just about anything. I had no idea what they were doing out here, but it saved me the trouble of having to call them and explain this situation twice. Range and I shared a knowing look when the two idiots finally stopped gabbing and met us inside the circle.

  “The fuck you two doing out here?” Range jumped in first.

  “Well, you see… Your lovely wife, whom I love with al
l my heart, interrupted the best blow job of my life by sending out an SOS to Ashley right about the time I was set to blow.” Sebastian rubbed his junk with a pained look on his face.

  “Called Heaven at work with the same bullshit. What the fuck’s going on?” Max chimed in.

  “I was just about to find out.” Range swung his gaze back over to me.

  “Stopped by the diner to speak with Maribel about a few things. Caught sight of two big motherfuckers wearing sissy-ass suits, carrying weight, grilling her about some missing money.” My blood pressure shot up thinking about those two fuck-sticks and how they’d tried to intimidate someone as small and defenseless as Maribel.

  “Holy shit,” Max huffed in outrage. “Is she alright?”

  “She’s fine.” I gave him my eyes. “Them other two fuckers? Not so much,” I growled.

  My anger got the better of me. These were my brothers, my family. They understood how easy it was for me to get pissed off; that hadn’t changed. I was the same hotheaded loose cannon I’d always been since we were boys, and this was exactly the type of shit that would get someone’s ass kicked inside out.

  “Damage?” Range assessed the situation knowing full well that whatever happened at that diner wasn’t good.

  “Two shots to the leg. One left walking on his own to carry his friend. Motherfuckers said they’d be back once the big boss found out.”

  The idea of getting a second crack at those assholes brought a smile to my face. They had no idea the amount of damage I was willing to inflict to protect my girl; and make no mistake, Maribel was my girl. Always had been. I’d tried to do the right thing eight years ago. We’d both been so young, and she’d deserved to follow her dreams. What did I know? I had been a punk kid who hadn’t made up his mind about what he’d wanted to do with his future. I’d believed the promises and the bullshit her father had fed me; I’d been so fucking wrong. I should have fought for her. Instead, I’d thrown her away and left her alone in the cruel world that chewed her up and spit her out.