by L. Grubb
Cobra returns to his seat while still smiling at me, which is freaking me the fuck out.
“You crushing on me, Cobra?” I raise a brow at him in question.
“Huh? What the fuck you talking about?” he replies, appearing startled by me calling him out.
“Stop fucking staring at me with a giddy smile on your face then. It’s creepy as shit.” Shaking my head at him, I return to the main topic of conversation, hashing out the details of what, when, where, why and who.
“I think we should pay each asshole a visit to their houses, more than likely one or more are going to be with another,” Dope chimes in.
“Not a bad idea, son. Mack?” Prez says, stubbing out his third cigarette. The man chain-smokes when stressed, anxious, annoyed or busy. Hell, I don’t think ten minutes go by without him having a smoke.
“Nice one, mate. Good idea. We’ll go with it. Pick out the little fish and then go after the big buggers.” Some of the stuff Mack says, doesn’t mean anything to me.
“What’s bugger?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“You don’t want to know the true meaning, mate, it ain’t nice. But we use it instead of bastard or something like that.” He waves a dismissive hand at me before getting back to business.
Huh, I guess I’m going to learn quite a bit of the British lingo while I’m here.
Shopping in Piccadilly was freakin’ awesome! Though the States have bigger malls, nothing compares to the shopping atmosphere in England. The British accents float around in the area, encompassing you in a cocoon of heaven. I love the accent. Full blown fucking love it.
Arriving back at the glitzy hotel, arms laden with shopping bags, we head our separate ways after exiting the elevator, agreeing to meet later to go out for food if the guys aren’t back in time.
I dump my bags on the small, cream, leather couch and pull my phone from my purse.
L: When do u think u will b back? X
When my phone doesn’t beep back right away, I head to the bar and grab a soda from the fridge. Popping open the can, I take a welcome gulp of the cold liquid. A quiet beep sounds from the living area, and I place my soda on the bar to return to it later.
C: Not sure, u and A have dinner without us. Miss u, sweetheart x
I smile, knowing he’s thinking of me even amidst club business.
L: Miss u too, babe. Love u x
I place my phone on the square shaped, glass table and grab my bags. I quickly hang my new stuff up and place my lingerie in the panties drawer. I’m desperate for a bubble bath and the tub in the bathroom is fucking huge, more a Jacuzzi then a bath.
Working out how the jets on the sides worked took forever, either I’m totally blonde or it was really that difficult, but I finally have them going. I strip naked before climbing into the hot, steamy water. I moan in appreciation as I start to feel my muscles uncoil. The muscles that were tense from carrying heavy bags all around the mall. The prospects offered but I like to carry my own stuff, I’m not used to help.
I’m not sure how long I lay there relaxing before I hear the suite’s door shut, followed by Champ’s voice.
“Lauren?”
“In here, babe!” I yell back, thinking to myself that relax time is over.
“Oh, hello there, sweetheart,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting as he appraises me in the bath. “Didn’t want to wait for me, no?”
“You didn’t know when you were going to be back, plus I’ve already made plans for dinner with Alexis.” I watch as he strips down, every shred of clothing being thrown into the corner.
Stalking towards me, he lifts an eyebrow and asks, “Room for me?”
I scoot over, giving him space to comfortably sit next to me. “How was your day?”
“As simple as it could be. Though we have a lot of shit to get through to make things right over here. We’re lucky we have Blade, who looks like a tough guy,” he tells me.
“Blade? Isn’t he the guy we met at the airport?” I ask, trying to connect the dots.
“Yeah, that’s him.” He throws an arm over my shoulder, resting his hand on it before he starts a sensual stroke down my arm, the feelings causing me to shiver in bliss.
I remember Blade vividly, short, dark hair with stubble across his square jaw, the slight hint of ink peeking above his shirt and a tattooed sleeve running down each arm. The guy is built like a shit brick house and looked as menacing as they come.
“You sure he’s an okay guy? I mean, he looks pretty dangerous,” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip. The last thing we need is for some man we’ve only just met to be batting for the other team, I mean, not in the sense of wanting another man, but with the wrong people.
“Yeah, Prez knows him from previous trips over. Don’t worry, sweetheart. And come on, don’t we all look dangerous to you? MC clubs aren’t exactly full of skinny, hippy type men.” He laughs as he says this.
“Seriously? You look like you’ve walked out of some male model magazine.” I look up at him with my brows in my hairline, begging him to differ.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” His lips curve in amusement before he leans down to peck me on the lips. “Though I may not look dangerous, if people cross me, I am.”
“Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you, and we don’t have a problem.” I lean my head on his shoulder as the jets whir around my legs and bum. Remembering the one time he scared the shit out of me, I inwardly shiver.
“I would never hurt you, sweetheart. Remember that.” He gives me a serious look before continuing with, “Think it’s time to get out, I have to meet Cobra and Blade for dinner. What time you meeting Alexis?”
“Not sure. About six I would guess.” I step out of the tub after him and he wraps a fluffy hotel towel around me to keep me warm against the biting chill in the air. “Did you open the balcony door?”
“Yeah.” He stalks out of the room, and I soon hear it slamming shut, the sudden chill stilling in the air. Goose bumps rise on my skin and my teeth chatter.
I walk into the bedroom and dry off quickly, throwing the towel onto a nearby chair, I search through my panties drawer quickly, going with a simple pale blue lingerie set with fake diamonds on. Next, I head to the wardrobe and pick out my new backless, red dress. I step into it and then move to the dresser in the corner of the bedroom to apply light make-up that will compliment my skin.
“Lauren!” Champ calls from the other room. Placing my heels on my feet, I stand and leave the bedroom, meeting him and Alexis in the living area.
“Hot damn, girl! You look delicious!” Alexis exclaims, hugging me to her. She still has a few inches on me, even in my heels.
“Fuck,” Champ whispers. I notice him adjusting his dick in his jean as he stares at my back, ass and legs.
“Everything okay there, babe?” I smirk, throwing him a wink as Alexis and I leave the suite. I hear him curse once more before shutting the door behind me.
Dinner was nice; we ended up choosing a Thai restaurant that was just down the street from the hotel. After a few glasses of Prosecco, we came up with the brilliant plan of clubbing. New country…new area…time to leave our mark!
I quickly type out a text to Champ to let him know our plans and to reassure him that we have prospects with us. He didn’t reply right away so we make our way to the British prospects waiting at the front of the restaurant.
“Can you take us to a lively nightclub?” we ask them in unison, shouldering our small purses.
“Sure. Soho is the best place to go, and it’s only ten minutes from here. Let’s go.”
They lead us back to the car and open our doors for us. Who knew British men could be such gentleman?
We manage to reach Soho without a car crash, due to the guys terrible driving, we get out and take a look around. The atmosphere is phenomenal, the hustle and bustle of party-goers, drag queens, and loud music. Amazing. I turn to Alexis who is looking around the streets in awe.
“Wow,” she says, he
r eyes finally landing on me. “Where to first?”
“I recommend Club 49. It’s a basement dance club. Ain’t that what you ladies are looking for?” the tall, well-built, prospect tells us.
“Come here often, do you?” Alexis laughs before continuing with, “Lead the way.”
He guides us through the throngs of colorfully dressed people. He turns his head to look at us saying, “Soho mainly houses the gay population so most of the places here are gay bars. Some are pretty fucking entertaining.”
“We may have to check them out later,” I reply, my eyes wondering around, eyeing each nightclub as we pass.
“Here it is. Ladies first, and all that crap.” He waves his hand in front of him for us to enter first. We pay the entrance fee and descend down the steep stairs. These won’t be easy to navigate once we have a few drinks in us.
The steady thump of the music seeps through the closed double doors as we approach.
“Welcome to Club 49, ladies. Have a great night,” the doorman says to us in his crisp British accent.
We flash him a smile before he opens the door to let us in. Holy shit, this place is huge. When you enter upstairs you wouldn’t think it was this big, or this glamorous. The flashing probe lights stream across the room as the music changes to another upbeat song.
Making our way to the bar for the first round of drinks, we notice the prospects standing by the main door, watching us from a distance. I give them my respect for that, giving us our privacy but keeping a look over us at the same time.
“Shots first?” Alexis shouts over the music.
I nod my head in answer as she catches the bartender’s attention.
Six fluorescent green shots are placed in front of us, followed by four ‘Sex on the Beach’ cocktails, and I shake my head at Alexis. I guess we’re getting shit faced tonight.
“Three shots and two cocktails for you.” She moves each drink over to me, and I gulp down all three shots in quick succession, the sour taste making me screw my face up. The burn running down my throat instantly heats my blood and makes my head fuzzy.
“Damn, they were sour!” Alexis exclaims, shaking her head from side to side and scrunching her face up. “Ugh, never having those ones again.”
I laugh at her as she quickly takes a sip of the cocktail in front of her to get rid of the taste sitting on her tongue.
“Lightweight.” I laugh, pulling her into a tight hug. “I guess we’re getting drunk tonight then?”
“Hell to the yeah, baby! New country and all that jazz.”
Once we have the first cocktails sitting in our stomachs, we grab each one and move to the dancefloor. Let the dancing begin.
After receiving the text from Lauren about them hitting a nightclub, I call Cobra to see what he wants to do. I also texted one of the prospects that are with the girls and threatened him to keep them safe.
Cobra: Visiting the first gang member this eve. Remember?
Champ: Oh yeh. Shit. Almost forgot. Meet me in the lobby
Cobra: Gotcha
What an idiot. I completely forgot we agreed to do the rounds of the gang members tonight. How could I forget that?
I quickly change my white shirt to a black one, grab the hotel key card and leave the room to go meet Cobra. Shit’s about to get real.
Coming to stop in front of the first house, we take stock of our surroundings. The run-down neighborhood shows what the people that live here must live like. The house we’re looking at is covered in colorful graffiti hiding the exterior brick walls. The front yard looks like a jungle with beer cans and garbage strewn across every inch. Fucking gross. How people can live like this fucking blows my mind.
“Ready?” Prez says into his radio attached to his cut.
“Hell yeah, Prez.”
“Let’s do it,” Prez replies, opening the passenger door to hop out.
I follow suit, and step on a cracked sidewalk with stains of blood splattered about. Great place to live.
“Champ, you knock on the door. Me, Mack, Dope and Blade will stand on either side of you, up against the wall,” Prez tells us.
Orders given, we trudge up the path to the decrepit front door. Once in position, I knock twice loudly before stepping back, discreetly putting my hand on the butt of my gun.
“What?” the man who answers the door says gruffly. “Who the fucking hell are you?”
“Your worst nightmare, motherfucker.” I pull my gun out of its holster and point it between his eyes, pushing him roughly back into the house. Fuck, it smells like something died in here. I crinkle my nose against the odor and swallow down the bile burning its way up my throat.
“Sit your arse down on that dirty as fuck sofa, and don’t say a fucking word ‘til I tell ya!” Mack shouts, grabbing the guy by the front of the shirt and shoving him on the stained couch.
“Do you know you’ve messed with the wrong people, right?” I say to him, spitting at his face showing my disgust at him.
“I ain’t messed with nobody. It’s you twats that’ve messed with the wrong crew. You were running drugs in our territory!” he yells at us, his olive skin turning purple with anger.
Pulling my fist back, I slam it into his jaw with so much force that it makes his teeth rattle.
He groans in pain before spitting blood on his carpet.
“Still gives you no fucking right to disrespect us the way you have. Leaving graffiti on our private property? What gave you that fucking right, prick?” Mack is getting angry, frustrated at the douche sitting there silently.
“You don’t cross onto our turf. Simple rule to follow, mate,” the guy says back, his deathly glare focused solely on Mack.
“It was an accident. You twats should’ve just came and spoke to us! Is that so fucking hard?” Mack asks, backhanding the sorry son of a bitch across the face before pacing rapidly around the room.
“Mate, I was given orders, yeah, don’t hate on us little guys.” The man hangs his head, rubbing his hands over his head. “We just get told what to do by the big guys.”
“No excuse, man. We didn’t even know one of our guys was dealing in this neighborhood.” Mack blows out a breath, shaking his head from side to side.
I’ve heard enough, time to end this shit. “Say bye, fucker.”
“No! Please!” His eyes widen as Cobra aims his gun at his head. My mouth curves into a sinister smile before he pull the trigger and watch as his brains splatter across the room, hitting the wall.
“Let’s go,” Prez says, jogging to the front door.
We follow, running to our vehicles before the cops are called. Though, I don’t think this street knows any different, especially with a gang running the area.
“Change of plan, boys. Let’s go for the bigger guys. The smaller men in the gang won’t know what to do once they’re gone. Head to DeShawn’s place. As far as we can tell, he’s the leader,” Prez says down his radio.
He glances at me quickly before turning his attention back to the road. I listen as the directions to the next house come over the radio from Mack. DeShawn’s isn’t far from the first guy, his house more intact than the other.
“This it?” I ask, putting the car in park.
“Yup,” is all Mack says down the radio. Getting out of the car, we stretch our limbs and check our guns for the umpteenth time.
Once again we’re making our way to a house, in the middle of a quiet, rundown street. This time though, the Prez pounds his fist on the door, almost taking it off its hinges. When there isn’t an immediate response, he pounds on it again.
Hearing footsteps from behind the door, we step back with our guns out, pointing at the wood framed door.
“What the…” DeShawn. Stupid douche answered the door, knowing the Crusaders MC were onto their asses.
“By the look on your face, I would guess you weren’t expecting us so soon. I’m quite surprised you weren’t informed about your buddy, Leighton, who we just paid a visit to. Though, I’m guessing by the
state of his house, that he doesn’t get many visitors,” Mack says, cocking his head to the side.
DeShawn just stares at us with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing. Blade pushes him into the house, making him land with a thump on the floor. We step over him, and Blade drags him further into the house.
At least this place isn’t such a dump. The décor is nice, red and gold framing the black painted walls. The open plan area from the kitchen to the den is clean, welcoming. I guess this is where they hold their little meetings.
“We need answers, mate,” one of the British brothers says, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against one of the support beams in the living room.
“What to? You pricks dealt in the wrong area. You had to pay,” DeShawn sneers, levelling us with heated stares.
My blood pumps hard around my body as adrenaline courses through my system, ready incase of a fight. Judging by DeShawn’s angry red face and murderous eyes, he could lunge at any time.
Mack laughs loudly, head tilted back. “You think graffiti is teaching us a lesson, buddy? Tough bunch you are.”
I chuckle, the British lingo making everything all the more funny. “Look, so what that the Crusaders dealt in the wrong area, all you had to do was speak up, and your impending death wouldn’t be staring you in the face right now.”
He visibly gulps as he eyes our weapons like it’s the first time he’s noticed them.
“First of, why didn’t you just come to us and tell us that someone from my club was dealing in your area?” Mack says, standing in a fighter’s pose, ready in case DeShawn tries anything stupid.
“Are you fucking kiddin’? Look at you. You’re bigger than us, and we know you have guns and shit,” he replies, once again looking down at Mack’s handgun.
“Wrong answer, bud. You disrespected us, knowing what we could do. It’s time to rid this street of scum like yourself, and we’ll make sure it’s done proper.” Mack gives me the nod, and I place my gun against his temple.