Quiet Chaos : The Chaos Series- Book #2

by Keta Kendric

  Like everything about her, I had noticed those scars and a few others, and the three tattoos she had, but had never commented, preferring that she tell me about them on her own. She tapped the top of her head at the back right side.

  “Ended up with a piece of a metal plate in my head to help the bone heal where they had hit me with a bat hard enough to crack my skull.”

  I cringed before I kissed the top of her head where she had pointed, making her smile through the stress etched on her face. She was painting a picture so vivid I felt a touch of her pain creeping into me. The notion that the metal plate may have explained a bit of her crazy made me smile.

  The sheer volume of physical violence inflicted on her defined a large part of why she was so determined and hard-charging. The list of injuries she named would have kept some of the strongest men I knew in that dumpster.

  “Raymond came to visit me in the hospital only once, and he had the nerve to ask me if I had allowed the distro money to be taken. My cousins Raymond and Rayland came to see me a few times, but the one person that was by my side every day was Desiree. She flashed the hospital staff one of the fake ID’s we’d gotten made to sneak into clubs, telling them she was eighteen so she could stay with me. She ended up missing nearly a month of school because she refused to leave my side. We had always been close, although she was more into school and art, and I was into the streets. But, having someone be there when I was at my lowest, at my weakest, meant everything, and it’s one of the reasons she and I have always remained close.”

  Her and Desiree’s relationship reminded me of me and Khane’s.

  “Once I was released from the hospital, I became obsessed with finding the guys who had jumped me. My uncle tried to get the information out of me so that he could find them, but I kept my mouth shut because I was determined to avenge myself. It took months, but I found them, stalked them, and added them to my body count. No one ever knew how they died, or why, because I never told a soul, until you.”

  The knowledge of that revelation chilled me to the bone. It wasn’t that she’d killed. It was that it wasn’t forced on her, but something that she had chosen.

  “I think that was the birth of quiet chaos,” I whispered more to myself than her.

  She flashed a weak smile at my statement. “I guess you can say that. The notion that I could kill and get away with it wasn’t the surprising part. I’d been witness to a number of murders and still know the murderers to this day. The thing that bothered me the most, was that I didn’t have any guilt about it.

  “I’d heard so many times that once you take a life, the dead haunts you, but for me, it wasn’t like that. It was like once my mind was convinced that they had done something wrong enough to be dead, guilt didn’t register. I started to think that I was turning into a monster and even at that age, I feared what I might become. However, I was more afraid that I would end up a statistic after witnessing countless Black Saints, and others die young and senselessly.”

  She paused and all I could think was, please keep going.

  “After the attack and my retaliation, I think I had an epiphany. I started soaking up knowledge, reading anything I could get my hands on, and volunteering at businesses in exchange for information. I searched for training on how to fight and defend myself. I volunteered for boot camps and took self-defense classes. I was like a sponge soaking up anything that could give me an advantage over an enemy. Raymond was the first to tell me that I was wasting my time, until he noticed the results of my self-imposed training.

  “The Black Saints I worked with had always given me a certain level of respect, because I was always grinding and being dragged through the same trenches as they were. They started noticing the way I handled myself in a fight, handled a weapon, and even speaking like I was about something. I started gaining respect, a lot of it, to the point where they were asking me to train them.”

  The knowledge gave me more insight on the relationship she had with her men.

  “Raymond gave me my first test the day I turned sixteen. He sat me down and planned out a mission that involved me taking out one of his enemy. When I completed the mission without a hitch, I became Raymond’s secret weapon. By the time I was twenty, I had taken out seven people for him, and a few others that he didn’t even know were coming for him. He saw me as a gun, a quiet way to take care of his problems.

  “When he started gambling and it started to get out of hand and cause him to make poor decisions, I became much more than his gun and a street runner. He knew that I was making decisions for him, and didn’t question me about it as long as it didn’t come back to him. He knew that I was making connections and paying off people that could help keep us out of jail. However, he had no idea how deeply into the game I was embedding myself.”

  She kept feeding my intrigue about her, and my hunger for everything there was to know about Mecca was endless.

  “I started investing in the information trade, getting to know corrupt law enforcement officers, and finding effective ways to carry out murders. I started making connections with people who could help me in a pinch, to spy if I needed them to, to make bodies disappear. I was becoming more than just a street goon, but I kept it all quiet and continued to maintain my role. It’s why my men now have their suspicions about who I truly am.”

  I agreed with her men. If they didn’t know any of what she was telling me, I understood why they thought she was a hitwoman.

  “Raymond had the same fire that had come alive in me until he started gambling. He would fuck up and use me to clean up his messes. There were times when he wasn’t even aware of his messes, but I’d clean them up for the sake of the Black Saints. When he presented this alliance, I thought it was the best decision he had made in a long time. When he left me in charge of the Saints, it was the chance I had been waiting for, but it didn’t take long to uncover that Raymond had done much more damage than anyone knew about. Now, I’m here, cleaning up his mess to keep the legacy of the Black Saints alive.”

  She reached up and placed a sweet kiss on my lips. It appeared my wife was done sharing for the night. I knew there was more. I wanted more. When was she going to tell me more?

  Mecca

  Dammit!

  The low hum of my disposable cell phone buzzed through the air and found me through the small crack I had left in my closet door. A serious case of déjà vu hit me at the sound, as this day was starting out similar to the day I had met with the Haitians.

  Later today, we had plans for my crew and Arjen’s to come together and brainstorm any and all clues as to who may have been targeting me and possibly him.

  If we made the mistake of approaching the Cardenas Cartel with false accusations, it would be a mistake we may never recover from. We needed to be sure. I had to do everything in my power to find proof before I accused the Black Saints of any wrong-doing as well. I was still in the process of proving myself as a worthy leader, and although we weren’t a political organization, a certain level of diplomatic finesse needed to be applied.

  “Mecca,” the delicate voice called into the phone.

  “Angel. What do you have for me?”

  “We found the last rapist. He admitted to having sex with Tashonda without her consent. We’re taking him to the cabin,” Angel stated.

  “How did you extract the information?”

  “We didn’t damage him. We gave him a shot of sodium thiopental, and he told us what we needed to know.”

  “Good, I’ll be there in about forty-five.”

  “Mecca,” Angel called again, and I didn’t miss the hint of warning in her tone.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think you were meant to survive that incident with the Haitians.”

  “I know. Something didn’t feel right about the entire situation. It’s why I called you and Devi. I believe this may have something to do with the rat problem the Saints have.”

  No matter what, in my position, there was always going to be someon
e gunning for my life, but to set a trap like the one they had set up for Arjen, and with the Haitians for me, took a certain amount of planning and money.

  The death note on my head wasn’t coming from a low-level group out to make a come-up. I was being targeted for assassination by someone with power. The Cardenas Cartel fit the profile, but them wanting me dead didn’t make sense.

  If it was the Cardenas Cartel targeting me, had they found my replacement? Could they have been working with someone from the Black Saints?

  30

  Arjen

  Waking up to find the bed empty and realizing my wife had sneaked away had left me with a prickling sense of irritation. Last night had bought us closer as a couple, but when it came to handling business, my wife was giving me a goddamned stomach ulcer.

  I dialed Vic, the guard currently charged with protecting her.

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s safe, Loud. She is currently in the warehouse on 33rd, meeting with her men.”

  “Make sure she stays that way.”

  “I will.”

  My eyes fell closed on a sigh of relief. Keeping up with my wife was going to be the death of me. How could one woman skirt men that were trained to track people? It was becoming abundantly clear, that if Mecca wanted to be left alone, she would find a way.

  She hadn’t disclosed any specific details about the extra help who had assisted her with the Haitians. She probably assumed I had forgotten after she had distracted me, but there was no forgetting when it came to her.

  Hours later, my phone sounded while I was cutting into the juicy steak Mrs. Kattie had made me for lunch.

  “Yes.” It was Vic.

  “Boss, she has gone off the grid. No one in our network knows where she is.”

  “Fuuuck!”

  My anger had risen so fast and hard I’m sure my blood vessels were about to rip through my skin. I reached in front of me and swept all of my dishes off the table, sending them across the room and hitting the wall and floor.

  I hung up on Vic just as Mrs. Kattie had rushed into the dining room.

  “Sir, is everything all right?” Her startled gaze took in the broken dishes and spilled food all over the place. I was surprised she had the courage to still come into the dining room while I was in it after the compromising position she had caught me and Mecca in. We’d had to end up replacing the table.

  I lifted the phone to my ear. “Where is my wife?”

  “Arjen?” Marshawn asked.

  “Who the fuck else would be asking for his wife?”

  The son of a bitch released a low chuckle.

  “I don’t know where she is. We had a meeting with her earlier, and she said she had some business to attend to.”

  Mrs. Kattie huffed in my direction and left me to my anger when I didn’t respond to her question. Based on her the way she had rolled her eyes at me, I just knew I was twenty different kinds of assholes.

  Marshawn started up again. His irritating fucking voice was making my colon twitch.

  “You do know that Mecca is going to do whatever Mecca wants to do. She does the same thing with us. You’re not special because you’re the husband.”

  Click.

  His fucking days were numbered. The only reason he wasn’t dead was because Mecca thought she needed him.

  She was determined to make me reach middle age before my time, but she had no idea the lengths I was willing to go through to keep her safe. When was she going to realize that I was willing to do everything in my power to protect her, whether she needed it or not?

  The devil’s blowtorch was in my hand, and I was ready to light someone’s soul on fire.

  “Mrs. Vallin did a good job of losing me, sir.” It was Vic again.

  It was sir, or boss when they knew their asses were on the line. My threat to kill him had him doing everything possible to make up for losing track of Mecca.

  Truth of the matter was, I was starting to think that not even I, if I were tasked with it, could keep up with her.

  “She disabled the tracker on the inside of the car, but the extra one you personally installed is still working,” he confirmed.

  The men knew I had put an extra tracking device on all the cars, so that no matter which car she decided to use, I would at least have an idea of the last place she’d driven to. I was a stress headache away from tagging her hard-headed ass with a body tracker.

  She obviously knew her way around any type of tracking devices because she disabled or found a way to scramble them each time she wanted to be left alone. It was pure luck that the last one I had decided to put in her car was still there.

  “The vehicle appears to have stopped deep in a wooded area, half up the Dead Plains Mountain, and surrounded by miles of trees and not much else. Sir, she is out in the middle of nowhere.”

  After receiving the update on her whereabouts, all I saw was flames flaring around my heart, mind, and soul if something happened to her.

  She was putting her life in serious jeopardy to sneak around to a secluded wooded location. Was it stupid of me to suspect that she may have been sneaking around with another man? Did she have me so wrapped up in her that the idea had never crossed my mind before now? Why else would she sneak off to a secret location in the middle of mountainous woods?

  The more the ideas swirled in my head, the more upset I became. I drove up the curvy, desolate stretch of road in a maddening rush, the wheels on my Mercedes, along with the suspension, screaming their protest along the highway.

  If Mecca was up there with a man, he had better enjoy his last breaths of air. She could drag a woman around the house, force me to wait until she was ready to be with me, but this was how she was treating me?

  Her car was parked out in front of the quaint little cabin. Fumes of rage billowed off of me in thick plumes as I cocked my weapon, snatched the door handle, and jumped out of my car.

  My eyes were bugged while scanning the area with my mind going haywire. Mecca Vallin was one hardheaded woman. It was like she had no regard for her life. When was she going to get it through that thick head of hers that she wasn’t safe? From anyone. Not even her lover.

  All types of goblins and ghouls would try every trick in the book to make her as vulnerable as she would allow herself to be. Sure, she was a desirable woman, any man with eyes could see as much, but she was wanted for more than her devilishly tempting body and winning personality.

  “Dammit, stop giving her compliments,” I reminded myself in a low annoyed grunt. I was, after all, prepared to take a life over her. My fingers brushed across my lips, wet with what I’m sure was the foam from the over-accumulation of anger I was producing.

  I crept onto the wraparound porch that presented a scenic view of the creek nestled between trees and mountainous hills to the front and towards the west. The setting was a romantic one that was about to be infected with the horrific scene I was set to create.

  The wood structure of the cabin was solid, no creaks or tethered parts, an indication that the place wasn’t that old. I didn’t go straight for the front door, instead, I headed to the side window which provided a view of movement and dancing shadows through the thin drapes.

  Tilting my head, my eyes narrowed as grunting sounds drew my attention. Was that someone moaning? They had fifty seconds left to live, because dead was what they were about to be since I was killing them.

  Had Mecca ever truly given any thought to who I was before she married me?

  31

  Arjen

  Charging around the cabin to the door, I prayed that in their haste to rip each other’s clothes off, they had left the door unlocked. Steam blew from my nostrils as my grip tightened around my pistol. A gentle twist of the knob sprang the door open, but it didn’t matter because I was furious enough to shoot the motherfucker off the hinges to get to my cheating wife.

  The slow creek of the door sounded, opening into the cabin’s interior, and allowing me to hear better the confirmation th
at there was forbidden activity taking place inside.

  Death had descended, and his name was Arjen Vallin. They didn’t call me Loud for nothing because death was creeping into this scene unexpectantly. Whoever he was, he was dying for touching my wife. I didn’t give a damn if she was the one who initiated their affair either.

  “Mecca!” I yelled, but she didn’t acknowledge my call. From where I stood, it appeared she was in a rage induced trance as she struck the man at her feet repeatedly with a blunt object.

  What kind of twisted bloody sex was she into? I would have never agreed to that type of abuse. She had snatched the SM from BDSM.

  “Mecca!” I yelled louder. This time, my call stopped her mid-strike, but she didn’t look in my direction. She stared straight ahead for a paused moment before she turned her face in my direction.

  “What are you doing?” A few more cautious steps dragged me deeper into her chaos and dialed down the intensity on my urge to kill.

  “What’s it look like I’m doing?” she questioned, not answering my question. The rage in her face gave her the appearance of a hell’s angel who had stormed the fiery halls to find her prey.

  What I’d assumed was a baseball bat was actually the thick wooden leg of the overturned table. Blood dripped from the wood, falling onto the man at her feet, beaten, battered, and knocking on death’s door. My eyes did a quick once over, noticing that a struggle had taken place.

  “Did that motherfucker attack you?”

  In the blink of an eye, I had my weapon aimed at the man spitting out blood and what I think were a few of his teeth. What appeared to be one of his long dreadlocks was hanging from the wood. Apparently her hard pounding had ripped it from his skull. Good. He deserved every bit of pain he was suffering for putting his damn hands on my wife.