RECYCLED MEMORY

  “This is where you live? Holy shit, pocket, it’s fucking perfect.”

  “I know, right?” She dismounted the bike and removed her helmet. “Nipsy owns the place, and he let me live here for pennies as long as I promised to take care of it; said he didn’t have the time. It was all so surreal how it happened. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.”

  She smiled brightly and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet like a kid in a candy store. Her excitement was contagious, and I found myself smiling at the irony of it all. There we stood, outside the single-wide mobile home just behind the diner on a grassy patch of land. It was far enough away from the business that it couldn’t be seen from the road unless you knew ahead of time that it was back there. The small cottage-like structure was complete with a porch, well-manicured flower beds around both sides, and, of all things, a pink wooden door that screamed ‘Maribel lives here.’ It was impeccable, yet it reeked of something familiar and calculated, but what? Good fortune? Coincidence? A four-leaf fucking clover? I didn’t believe in chance. Shit happened for a reason according to Buck Calhoun, and I always understood that to be true. Something about this whole setup made my dick twitch, and I couldn’t get it out of my head.

  “So, you moved in here what? Five years ago? The place looks brand new.”

  “I thought the same thing when Nipsy offered it to me, but I didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I was desperate for a place of my own.”

  She walked up the stairs to the entrance and produced the key to the front door.

  “When I was released from the hospital, I just couldn’t stay with my parents. I was angry and bitter. I blamed them for what happened. I had been everywhere looking for a job, but no one wanted to hire a kid with only a high school diploma and no work experience. I met Nipsy at a bus stop, thought he was a creeper. Tattoos everywhere, greasy gray hair, the works. He offered me a job out the blue. I guess he reminded me of …” Maribel shrugged like it was no big deal, but I knew her thoughts were of Buck.

  My gut burned with everything she’d been through without me. Couldn’t change that now, but it still hurt like a bitch knowing it was all my fucking fault. We stepped inside the tiny house, and I was immediately taken aback by all the personal touches throughout the sitting area. Instead of a couch, she had a big pink bean bag that sat in the middle of the floor. The walls were lined with inexpensive picture frames; each one showcased a different memory. A swatch of cloth from the beautiful pink gown she’d worn to the junior dance was first. To its left was the newspaper clipping from when Buck was hailed a hero for preventing the robbery at Fosters. The last frame on the row was a label from a bottle of apple juice with the words Drink Me written in crayon around the border. The memory of the day we met bought a smile to my face, and I turned to see her watching me from just inside a narrow hallway.

  “I’m just gonna go grab a few things. Shouldn’t take long. Try the bean bag, tough guy. It’s comfortable.” She smirked.

  “Such a smart-ass mouth, Polly Pocket. Like my big ass could fit on that shit.”

  I stepped closer to where she stood and leaned down inches from her face. “I could always fuck you on that bean bag, right in your sweet little asshole while I finger your dripping-wet cunt. How long do you think it would take until you begged me to stop?”

  Her breath caught, and she swayed a little on her feet. Her flushed skin and pink cheeks were a clear sign she was turned way the fuck on by the thought of having my cock inside her.

  “I’ll just… What was I? Oh yeah, clothes. Right. Be back…”

  She actually ran into the wall before making her way down the hall to what I assumed was her bedroom. As much as I wanted to follower her and make good on my promise, I knew we’d never get out of there once I stuck my dick inside her. I was anxious to find that fuckstain MacCabe and pay him his goddamn money. Be rid of him once and for all. The last thing Maribel needed was the threat of retaliation against her family over something that wasn’t even her fault to begin with. MacCabe had made it clear just how down and dirty he was willing to get in order to get paid. What he didn’t know was that I’d lived in the trenches, hidden away by the darkest side of the moon. I’d make him my bitch just to pass the time. Getting blood on my hands was as easy as tying my shoes, especially when it came to protecting what was mine. Maribel Laine belonged to me; she was mine to protect until my dying breath. God help any man who tried to take her from me.

  “MARCUS! MARCUS!”

  Maribel’s scream shrilled throughout the inside the house. Her desperate plea had me grip my nines tightly in my hands, ready to paint a motherfucker red once I found them. I rushed toward the sound at a full-out run, burst through the door with guns drawn, only to find Maribel crouched down on her knees, desperately shaking a mound of bloodied flesh. The battered body lay limply on the floor, half inside a closet, half out. Whoever it was got fucked up real bad from where I stood, and by more than just a pair of bare hands.

  “Marcus, it’s Drew! Someone beat him up and stuffed him in my closet,” she cried.

  “FUCK! Is he still breathing?” I crouched down and checked his pulse. It was faint, but at least he had one. “Get your phone and call 911… NOW, Maribel!”

  “Okay. Okay. I’m going. Shit, fuck, Drew.”

  She scurried to her feet and went in search of her phone while I tried to assess the damage. I wasn’t a medic, but I’d seen enough soldiers wounded on the battlefield to know this fool was in a world of hurt. Broken nose, busted lip, two black eyes, and that was just what could be seen from the outside. I’d bet my left nut he had a few broken bones to go along with his mangled face. Tough to say whether or not he was going to make it. I grabbed the duvet from the bed and wrapped it around his prone body to try and keep him comfortable until the ambulance arrived.

  Stupid fuck.

  He deserved that ass whooping and more for getting Maribel involved in his bullshit with MacCabe. The longer I thought about that shit, the more I wanted to wake his ass up and fuck him up all over again. Buck was right when he’d said men who lacked discipline were destined to destroy themselves. Bitch made pussy learned that lesson the hard way, with a boot in his ass and brass knuckles to his head. He had it coming.

  “Help is on the way.” Maribel returned to the room, breathless and near hysterics. “Who could have done this, Marcus? I thought Mace said he skipped town.”

  “Shit just got real, baby. We need to get the fuck outa here before the cops show up and start asking questions.”

  “What? No! We can’t just leave him here alone, Marcus. It’s not right.”

  Tears streamed down her face in buckets, and she flat out refused to leave that motherfucker’s side. I grabbed her under her arms and pulled her to her feet. I gave less than a fuck about right and wrong as I heard the sirens getting closer.

  “Hear me, Pocket, and understand.” I shook her hard enough to make my point. “I need to buy some time, so I can pay off MacCabe and be done with this shit. Fucking pigs will have us tied up for hours with dumb-ass questions if we don’t leave now. Come on.”

  “I…” She looked back to the lump on the floor, torn between her conscience and the truth in my words. I expected nothing less from the woman with the biggest heart in the world.

  “Look. We’ll go over to the hospital, make sure he’s alright before I make the drop. I promise. Please, just come with me now.”

  I grabbed her backpack from the bed and dragged her out the back door and onto my bike before the ambulance arrived. Maribel held on tightly as we zoomed toward the hospital ahead of that asshole Drew and away from prying eyes. I felt every wracking sob and full body shake that emanated from her tiny distraught frame. A completely misguided reaction for someone who’d royally fucked her over. For every tear she shed, I would inflict pain on those who’d caused them, starting with Darragh MacCabe. He’d made his fucking point, loud and clear, that he wasn’t playing around and Maribel was in danger. He’d broug
ht the fight to her front door, and by doing so, he’d fucked up. Time to strike hard, strike fast, and end this bullshit once and for all.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Maribel

  “POLICE RUNNING IN AND out all over the place. Took ten years off my life when I saw that meat wagon pull up outside your place, girl. Thought it was you till I saw that cunt cake boyfriend of yours being hauled out the front door. Jumped in the back so fast I damn near broke my fool-ass neck trying to get to you.”

  Marcus and I were standing inside the hospital waiting room when the ambulance had arrived carrying Drew. The police were there, so we tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible until they finished filling out their reports and left. They’d ushered him inside one of the exam rooms for triage before I had the chance to see how he was holding up. Through my haze of tears, I never expected to see my boss come traipsing in from outside the emergency room doors looking worse for the wear. He’d obviously been working judging by his grease-stained apron and worn-out wife beater, none of which explained what he was doing here. It wasn’t until he ran over to us, pissed as all get out, and started screaming about how much I had scared him that I realized he’d witnessed the scene from somewhere inside the diner.

  I was having a hard enough time dealing with the crippling fear after bearing witness to the lengths MacCabe was willing to stoop to get his money. Sure, seeing Drew beat to shit was hard, but it wasn’t the reason why I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks. Marcus had never filled me in on his plan, and the longer he kept me in the dark, the more I worried that he would do something dangerous. I’d die before I watched him get hurt because of me. He’d been through enough horrible things serving our country to have to deal with my shit on top of everything else.

  Nipsy wanted answers.

  He’d have to get in line.

  “I’m sorry, Nipsy. Everything happened so fast I didn’t get a chance to call and warn you that it wasn’t me who was hurt. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  I gave him a reassuring smile that died a slow death on my lips.

  “Yeah, well, I figured that much on my own, girl. Don’t change the fact you scared the fuck outa me. You need me to stick around?” He wiped his hands on the dirty apron as he spoke.

  “She’s covered,” Marcus barked as he stepped in front of me, blocking me from view. Surprisingly, Nipsy didn’t bite at Marcus’s blatant disrespect, which was odd considering the man had zero filter most days.

  “Don’t show up for work, Maribel. Don’t want you there till your shit’s sorted. You hear?” I didn’t get the chance to dismiss his macho demand before he turned to walk away.

  “Hey!” Marcus shouted toward his retreating back. “Nice Devil’s Raptors tattoo, old timer.”

  I stepped around Marcus and gave him a perplexed look, but he never gave anything away. He folded his muscular arms across his chest and mumbled something that sounded strangely like “Old bastard. Fucking Buck just couldn’t mind his own business,” and “Fucking bikers.”

  It wasn’t clear to me what any of that had to do with Nipsy, and Marcus wasn’t exactly in the sharing mood, so I was forced to put that along with so much other shit on the back burner. I’d forgotten how much I hated hospitals since I’d been forced to live in one for over a year. I hadn’t been inside Madison Lee Trauma Center since I’d left my family home and moved out to live on my own. This place was once my old stomping ground; my father and I would often have lunch together between his rounds. He’d show me the latest medical technology, and I even got to observe a groundbreaking transplant operation performed. The first of its kind anywhere in the United States. It all seemed so long ago, my dream of becoming a surgeon. Standing here made me miss it for the first time in recent memory alone with the greatest doctor who ever lived.

  My father.

  “You done crying over that piece of shit bitch boy yet?” Marcus’s harsh voice pulled me from my thoughts.

  “What are you talking about?” I challenged.

  “What am I talking about?” He spat my words back as if they were poison. “I’m talking about my woman spilling tears over the man who gave her up to a fucking mob boss for a debt that he created. Tell me something, Pocket. Why the fuck did you give me your pussy if you were still hung up on him?”

  I wanted to stab him in the eye and kiss him senseless at the same time. Marcus had always been possessive. As a teenager, I’d figured out early on how to appease his bossy nature. But that was then. We were no longer children, and this wasn’t a fucking game. His salty disposition sent my hackles into high alert. After everything we’d been through, he had the audacity to question my loyalty because of my concern for an injured friend? Marcus Mecken might be a tough guy, but life showed me how to be an even tougher girl. It was high time I gave him a taste of his own medicine.

  “Look, you big nincompoop.” I stood right up in his grill… Well, not quite. He was so tall I had to stand on my tippy-toes just to reach his chin; that sexy, dimpled, stick out my tongue and lick…

  Fuck.

  Refocus, former slut bucket.

  “My so-called tears were for you and whatever poor bastard you planned on delivering a beat down on as soon as we left this place. I know you, Marcus, know what you’re capable of, and I’ll be damned if I sit around and watch you get hurt or locked up because of me.” There. I’d said it.

  He could just go eat a dick with all his macho ‘my woman’ this and ‘your pussy’ that bullshit. I waited, hands firmly on my hips, ready to take on the beast if I had to. Marcus’s impending tough guy comeback and threats of physical restraint didn’t scare me in the least. However, the tick of his cheek and the salacious smirk on his sexy lips caused a full body shiver. I took a few steps back before I lost my nerve or needed to run away and hide.

  “Come here, baby.” Fuck. Where is the damn exit sign?

  “Why do you need me to come over there? I’m standing right here?” I snickered nervously.

  “Come. Here. Baby.”

  He said it slower this time, using a pointed finger to indicate exactly where he wanted me. I weighed the odds and took two tentative steps back toward where I’d originally stood in front of him. Marcus wouldn’t dare cause a scene in front of the only other person waiting in the emergency room. Where in the hell were all the sick people today? At a damn cookout? Before I had the chance to dwell on my current predicament, Marcus grabbed me by one of my ass cheeks and lifted me nearly clear off the ground while he drew me in closer.

  “You, Maribel Laine… are the shit. Don’t ever change, woman.”

  His hulking body leaned over mine like a thick winter blanket. Warm and hard, he attacked my mouth with passionate delight. I melded willingly into his embrace and returned his intensity with some of my own. Right there in front of all the world to see, we went at each other without so much as a backward glance. By the time we broke apart, I was out of breath and woozy, completely intoxicated by the scent of him, the feel of his hard muscles, and the bright beautiful smile that showcased both rows of his perfectly white teeth.

  “Maribel? Maribel… Is that you?’

  I hadn’t heard that voice in years, yet I would’ve recognized it anywhere. Three disquieted syllables of my name, and I was no longer a strong, confident woman; I was a twelve-year-old girl who coveted the support and affection of the first man she’d ever loved. I was afraid to turn and face him, to look into his eyes and see his disappointment, yet at the same time I wanted to beg him to forgive me for all the mistakes I’d made.

  “Hi, Daddy.” I inhaled deeply. “It’s good to see you again.”

  I twisted around slowly in Marcus’s arms and froze solid. The gaunt, graying man before me caused my heart to splinter into a thousand pieces and then shatter. I couldn’t stop the sob that burst from my chest before running full speed into his awaiting arms. It had been over five years since he’d last held me, but I’d never forgotten the feeling that only a father could giv
e. Don’t break. Don’t break.

  “My baby girl, it’s so good to see you, too,” he whispered through his own broken sob.

  “I’m so sorry, Daddy. Please forgive me.”

  “Shhh, hush now, let me look at you.” He leaned back and held me gently by the arms. “Short hair. It suits you, Maribel. You look beautiful, just… beautiful,” he awkwardly gushed.

  We stood silently holding each other for a long while, the two of us unwilling to let go or ruin the moment with talk of past hurts. In that moment, I was his loving daughter with eyes only for her handsome hero, and he was a doting father who could do no wrong and always managed to save the day. I wanted to stay in that bubble, trapped between the two men I loved most in the world, but that was just a cruel dream designed to fool the unknowing. The threat to our safety was real; it hovered close like a shroud waiting to engulf us all in its darkness. I had to remain strong, for Marcus, for my family, and for hope.

  FORTY

  Marcus

  DR. LAINE DODGED A bullet both figuratively and literally… at least for now. He wasn’t completely off my shit list, just knocked down a few pegs thanks to MacCabe and his cronies.He still had plenty to answer for, but that would have to wait until my dealings with the Boston mob’s favorite golden boy were over. Instead of kicking his bitch ass around the moon by now, I ended up stuck in this hell hole holding a candlelit vigil for that cocksucker who’d ended up half dead in my woman’s closet. If Buck were alive, he would’ve cracked my skull in, knowing I’d let that motherfucker get so close to Maribel and put her in danger. MacCabe wasn’t stupid. He put that idiot Drew in her bedroom where she slept for a reason. As a scare tactic? A warning? No matter his intent, he hit his mark dead on, and it was time he felt the pain.

  The waiting room family reunion was perfectly timed. I needed a moment to step away.Leaving Maribel unprotected for even a minute made my dick itch. Daddy Dearest wasn’t built for that shit; he’d piss himself at the first sign of trouble. I sent the boys their instructions via text knowing full well they’d follow them to the letter. They knew what to do, no questions asked. It was how Buck had raised us since we’d been kids. For once, I was in total agreement with Buck and his practiced speech for planning. One fucked-up careless move, and we all went down. I missed his council now more than ever, but I had my brothers watching my back. We worked as a unit, four small cogs who played a larger role in protecting what was ours. Buck had prepared us for the worst of mankind, and we’d learned our lessons well. Without their help, I was sure to fail. Range arrived first with Clover by his side. Together, they walked to where Maribel stood with her father.