by Zoey Parker
Spike pulled away, still keeping his eyes down. “Cleo…” Spike didn’t know how to say what he needed to. Partly because he couldn’t believe he was about to say it, and partly because if he said the wrong thing, Cleo might very well pull out her gun and shoot him.
But Cleo had been trying and trying with him over the last week, and he had kept pulling away. His mind hadn’t been ready to accept it until now, but things with Cleo were done.
“Just spit it out, Spike,” she said coldly, folding her arms over her breasts. “Whatever it is, fucking spit it out already.”
“I can’t do this with you anymore,” he finally said. “Us, this…” he gestured between them, still not looking at her, “…it’s over, Cleo. I’m sorry.”
A long silence spread between them.
“Is this because of her?” Cleo asked, and Spike knew she meant Georgia.
“No,” he answered honestly, surprising himself.
“Then what’s it about, Spike?” She sounded almost desperate.
“It’s about me, and what I need,” he told her. “I can’t really explain it, Cleo.” Spike shrugged. “I wish I could, but I can’t.” Spike privately thought maybe he actually could, but not to Cleo, and that was the whole point of it.
“So that’s it?” she said disgustedly. “We’ve been together for three years, and all you can give me is ‘I can’t explain it’?”
“Technically, we were never really together,” Spike pointed out. “You were the one who didn’t want us to be official, but then you became enraged whenever I was with anyone else. What kind of game is that, Cleo?”
“It’s not a game,” Cleo spat. “This gang is my life, Spike, and I accept the rules that go along with it. Gangs with female leaders are seen as weak, so I’ve never run for president because even though I know I could do the job better than anyone—even you—I don’t want to hinder Satan’s Disciples in any way. That’s why I don’t push to be your second-in-command either, so no one accuses our leader of favoritism.”
Spike was stunned, he had never known Cleo wanted to be leader.
“That’s why I’m so upset with you bringing her around. You did it without any regard to how it affected the gang,” Cleo said. “You’re the one who’s treating it like a game. So just…get out,” Cleo said, her voice like stone. “Get the fuck out of my room, Spike.” She grabbed her top from the floor and turned her back to him.
Spike went to the door, unsure of what to say, if anything, that could mend things between him and Cleo. Turning the knob, he opened the door to leave and came face to face with an angry-looking Georgia and…the hotel waiter behind her.
***
Georgia had searched every inch of the lower level of the house, even though she already knew deep down that Cleo had brought Spike upstairs. Still, she had searched, hoping against hope that Spike had refused Cleo and had instead joined a game of beer pong somewhere.
Finally heading up the stairs, Georgia first tried Spike’s room. It was empty, which, for a moment, filled Georgia with joy—until she realized there had to be at least five other bedrooms on this level.
Three turned out to be empty as well, and the fourth had a couple in it, but it wasn’t Spike and Cleo. After apologizing for the interruption, Georgia went to the fifth door, praying that it would also be empty—or, if it had to have someone in it, let it be Spike, alone.
“Are you sure about this, Mrs. Turner?” Jimmy asked as Georgia reached for the handle.
He understood the need for truth, but even at his sixteen years, he didn’t think it was a good idea to intentionally walk into a room to see your husband cheating on you.
“Why don’t you just wait until they come out? Then you can say what you need to—”
The door flew open just then, removing anyone’s choice in the matter.
Georgia barely even saw Spike. She was already zooming in on Cleo’s naked back. She swallowed hard. Jimmy was right, I should have just left. I didn’t want to see this.
Without a word, Georgia turned on her heel and walked down the steps. She almost made it out the door before Spike caught up with her.
“Hey, Georgia, wait…just let me…” He was stumbling over his words trying to explain what she had walked in on.
She ignored him and he grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving.
“Let go of me!” Georgia screamed, violently thrashing in her attempt to get away.
She somehow managed to simultaneously knee Spike in the groin and punch him in the ear and he dropped like a hot stone. Having heard the yelling, Tiny, Roxy, and Vince all piled into the room to see what was going on.
“Go get her,” Spike ordered through gritted teeth. He was holding onto his junk like it was going to fall off. It felt like she burst something down there.
A minute later Tiny and Vince returned with a thoroughly incensed, very vocal, Georgia between them, each firmly holding one of her arms. Next came Jimmy, who looked extremely put out at being led from behind by Roxy, her powerful hand clasping his shoulder.
“You tell these assholes to get the fuck off of me, Spike! Right now! I mean it!” she shrieked as they half led, half carried her up the stairs to Spike’s room.
Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath, waiting for the ringing in his ear to subside. It eventually quieted, but the pain did not. He opened his eyes to see Cleo standing over him.
Why, God? Why me and why today? Spike asked.
“Well, I never thought I would ever say this, but I’m glad that she was here,” she said viciously, looking down at him. “Watching her kick your ass was a special treat.” Cleo stepped over him and walked into the kitchen, slinging her arm around a tall, handsome stranger Spike had never seen before.
As he pulled himself to his feet, he watched her pluck the cigarette from the man’s lips and take a drag. She kissed the stranger, and when they separated, he blew smoke to the ceiling, a giant grin on his face.
Spike shook his head. Cleo was upset, but he was willing to bet there were plenty of people around who would be willing to give her a shoulder to cry on. He took the steps slowly; he seemed to have a minor case of vertigo from Georgia’s blow to his ear. The girl could really pack a punch.
He walked into his bedroom to see Georgia sitting on the bed, a furious glare on her face. Jimmy was sitting next to her looking considerably more frightened.
“Guys, can you give us a minute?” Spike asked, meaning Georgia and himself.
Tiny and Roxy looked at each other. Vince shifted imperceptibly.
“What?” Spike asked, looking at each of them.
“We are growing concerned over the impact this girl is having on the gang,” Vince said, nodding towards Georgia. “Cleo is not the only one with concerns. Even excluding the issues this has prompted with Ivan, which many of us feel would have come about anyway, events like tonight are not acceptable.”
Spike stared at Vince. Embarrassment burned his face, but he refused to look away. “I believe my patch still says Leader on it, and until it doesn’t, you’ll do what I say,” he said quietly.
“Dammit, Spike!” Vince cried, flipping over his nightstand. A lamp shattered. The lightbulb popped loudly inside, causing Tiny, Roxy, and Jimmy to each let out a tiny scream. “Joe died today! People are mourning downstairs, and you’ve got two women at your throat all because you can’t keep your dick in your pants!”
Spike was shocked. Never in all the years he had known Vince had he ever heard him raise his voice. “I know,” he said soothingly. “I know, and I’m sorry, Vince. You’re right.”
Vince was breathing hard, sweat shining on his dark skin. “Hector was right downstairs; we need you, Spike. If you want to wear that patch,” he raised a long arm to point at Spike’s vest, “then you’d better do something to deserve it.”
Vince walked out of the room, Tiny and Roxy behind him, Roxy stopping long enough to grab Jimmy by the front of his shirt. He glanced back at Georgia helplessly before Spike
closed the door.
He stood there for a long moment, leaning on the doorknob with one hand.
“What the hell are you doing here, Georgia?” he asked tiredly.
“You weren’t returning my phone calls,” she fired back hotly. “I thought something had happened! I guess I know what it was now.”
“Nothing happened between Cleo and me tonight,” Spike told her. “If you don’t believe me, you can go ask her yourself. She’s your biggest fucking fan after seeing you take me down,” he added, seeing Georgia’s skeptical look.
“Why is that?”
“She’s pissed because I broke up with her,” Spike said, sitting next to her on the bed.
“Was it because of me?” Georgia couldn’t help but blurt out.
“Did you not hear Vince just then?” Spike asked. “Somebody fucking died, Georgia! Because I wasn’t there to do something about it! Because I was too busy with all your shit!”
“Spike, that is such bullshit!” Georgia said. “How the hell were you supposed to predict that?”
“Is it?” He laughed skeptically. “Maybe if I had been here, where I belonged, I could have…have…” Spike trailed off, throwing his hands into the air.
“What?” Georgia asked. “Done what? What would you have done differently if you had been here?”
Spike didn’t answer her.
“Exactly,” Georgia said softly. “Nothing. So stop blaming yourself, it’s only keeping you from blaming the person truly responsible for hurting your friends.”
Spike looked at Georgia gratefully, and she leaned forward to kiss him. There was nothing more in the world that Spike wanted to do right now than kiss Georgia and show her his appreciation for her words, but her gentleness with him only further proved his point that she deserved more than he could give her.
He pulled away.
“What…?” Georgia said with a confused smile. “Spike, it’s okay if we mess around a little; I promise nothing bad will happen if you ‘shift your focus’ for an hour,” she teased, thinking he was worried about Ivan’s next move.
“It’s not that,” Spike said, his voice suddenly cold.
“Well, then what is it? Are you too drunk?”
“No, I’m just not interested.”
Georgia felt like a cement fist had just punched a hole in her stomach.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, back at the hotel was great, but…Georgia, come on. Did you really think I would want to hit it twice? I’ve moved on.”
The fist uncurled and a thick concrete rope spread from each finger to every limb, filling it with a numbing sensation.
“But…at the hotel, it seemed like…” she feebly protested as she lost the feeling in her lips.
“Yeah, well, a lot can happen in a day,” Spike said shortly, hating himself more and more with every word, weakly holding on to the knowledge that this was what was best for Georgia. “I’ve moved on; you should too.”
Spike stood up and headed to the door.
“Wait!” Georgia cried, tears beginning to swim in her eyes. He stopped and looked back at her. “I love you,” she admitted, the tears now freely slipping down her cheek.
Spike swallowed hard, trying to keep himself in check. “You don’t love me,” he said without a hint of emotion. “You just confused good sex for love. Now, Vince is going to keep an eye on you, since you can’t seem stay put like I told you. Ivan will know I’m not bringing you back to him by now, and he’ll be out looking for you. If you need me, I’ll be downstairs.”
“I don’t know why you’re lying to yourself,” Spike heard Georgia say from behind him. He paused and turned back to her. “You felt something at the hotel, and if you don’t want to admit that, then you’re a weak man, Spike, and you can go to hell,” she said.
Chapter Ten
Ivan paced furiously back and forth. He picked up a very large, very expensive-looking vase and heaved it over his head, smashing it against the far wall.
“Blyad'!” he cursed, his heavy voice echoing against the far metal walls.
Alex winced as a ceramic shard whizzed by his scalp.
“You’re surprised?” Yury drawled. “This is what happens when you give people options. They think they can do whatever they want.”
“Might I remind you that you are the one who suggested I give him this option?” Ivan pointed out tersely.
“True,” Yury admitted. “But I didn’t tell you to give him the extra time with the girl. You should have taken her immediately.”
“You speak up now; where were you yesterday with your wisdom?” Ivan asked.
Yury shrugged, sensing now was a good time to be quiet.
“What about you?” Ivan suddenly asked Alex. “Any smart ideas?”
Alex wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he took Yury’s lead and said nothing.
“Come on,” Ivan said, waving his hand. “Speak up!”
“Uh, are you sure he wasn’t at the bar when it blew up? Maybe he got hurt or something,” Alex suggested lamely.
Ivan let out an ugly laugh. “That would be funny. He is preparing to go to war with us, and he dies in the first battle.”
Alex laughed with him, secretly praying Spike was alive and was still going to go through with their plan.
“Where is Nicholas?” Ivan asked, suddenly turning to Alex. “He’s late.”
Alex stood up straight. “He should be here any minute.”
As though on cue, the side door boomed open, slamming against the metal wall. Nicholas strolled through looking like the cat that had eaten the canary.
“Why do you look so happy?” Ivan asked suspiciously.
“Because I found Felix,” he said with a nasty grin. “We finally got a bead on him somewhere in Massachusetts—he’s staying with an uncle on his mother’s side.”
Ivan finally began to smile. So what if he didn’t have the whore, Georgia, today? He would have her soon enough, and he had the image of Spike Turner’s mangled, crispy corpse to keep him happy.
“We need to grab him,” he ordered Nicholas. “We will use him to draw the girl out. If Spike is alive, he will follow her to us.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” Alex blurted out. “How will you lure him here, then?”
“Why wouldn’t it work?” Ivan asked, his brow furrowing. “Do you know something?”
Alex bit his lip, shaking his head. “No, of course not. I’m just…trying to be thorough. Sorry if I seem nervous,” he said.
Ivan stared at him suspiciously for a long moment, then broke into a grin. “Do not be nervous!” he said, throwing a friendly arm around Alex’s shoulders. “It’s very simple, trust me.”
Releasing Alex, Ivan began to bark orders at the people standing around him.
“Nicholas, contact our people in Boston and have them sit on the boy until we get there. Alex, I want you to look into our situation with Spike. Yury,” reaching into his pocket, Ivan pulled out his wallet and threw it to his second-in-command, “I want two first-class tickets leaving for Boston tonight, one way, and we’ll need a car to drive back in once we have picked up Felix.”
Yury lazily snatched the wallet out of the air. “You got it, boss.”
Six hours later they were touching down in Boston and picking up their rental car—something with a nice, large trunk for the way home. Using Nicholas’s connections, it hadn’t been difficult to find Uncle Lyle. Apparently the man worked for a big time law firm.
Ivan wondered how someone so prestigious could be connected to someone like Felix, but he supposed that was the weakness of family. At the very least they could rob the man once they had collected Felix.
“We’re here,” Yury said, pulling up alongside a three-story brownstone that was partially obscured by clinging ivy.
Several lights, at least one on every floor, were on in the house, causing Ivan to worry that perhaps others lived with Lyle Diaz. He had not come prepared to execute an entire family, neither mentally nor materially. That ki
nd of work required a serious clean-up crew, which he simply did not have.
Movement caught his eye—it was Felix! He was standing in the middle of the kitchen wearing only his boxers. Ivan glanced at his diamond encrusted watch. It was almost midnight. Why do they have so many lights on at this hour? And if everyone is awake, why is Felix the only one who is up?
Watching Felix open the refrigerator and take a pull straight from the milk carton, Ivan realized that what he was looking at was the careless lifestyle of an adolescent man who had been left in an extravagant home with no supervision.