Quiet Chaos : The Chaos Series- Book #2

by Keta Kendric

  “I was the one doing the attacking.” She finally answered my question. “This nasty motherfucker has a penchant for kidnapping innocent young girls and raping and beating them.”

  Stunned, I stood and allowed her words to sink in. She bent and shoved what appeared to be a bloody sock in the man’s damaged mouth. She wasn’t cheating on me. She was delivering street justice to a piece of shit that deserved it.

  “I was also attempting to beat answers out of this fucking useless parasite, but he stopped talking and begged me to kill him. So…” She shrugged. “I’m giving him what he asked for.”

  Her gaze was so filled with hate for the man it seeped out of her and touched me.

  “I have reason to believe he was also one of Raymond’s spies.”

  My eyes fell to the sniveling man, a spy for her despicable uncle, and a rapist. Now, I understood her rage and her luring him to one of the most desolate places in the area. She didn’t fit the profile of a serial killer but based on her backstory and this scene at a glance, she had killed many more than I believe she had told me about. She was the scariest kind of killer. The kind you would never see coming for you. The kind you would look at and dismiss as a killer.

  She was also using a weapon of her choosing as her gun sat tucked into the back of her jeans. Hearing her tell her story and seeing a part of it being carried out, were two different perceptions to grasp. Standing above the half-dead man, I was finally getting the visual insight to match her history.

  “Is this how you end up with those bruises that you never want to explain? Those off the grid trips you take when you ditch security?”

  “Yes, and sometimes,” she answered.

  She held my stare with the bloody leg gripped tight in her hands. The groaning man laying at our feet could wait because we were having a much-needed couple’s discussion.

  “You probably thought I was cheating on you, didn’t you?” She smirked, knowing my ego had never been put through any real stress where women were concerned.

  “What? No. Of course I didn’t think you were cheating.” I lied, and she knew it.

  I reached for the bloody chunk of wood in her hand.

  “Let me have it. You’re going to end up getting a splinter.”

  She glared, her eyes unblinking and zeroed in on mine, like I was taking her favorite toy away.

  “Let me,” I insisted. “You’re going to mess up your nails. You had them done yesterday, and they are lovely.”

  She edged the wood down, her eyes on her nails. If she hadn’t figured it out by now, I noticed everything about her and was as crazy as she was turning out to be.

  “I believe you know I’m not a sexist asshole. I truly don’t want you messing up your pretty nails on the piece of shit at your feet. I would rather have you breaking them off in my back.”

  The comment brought out that grin I liked seeing. She took a step closer, matching the one I took and handed me the bloody wood. A whimpering groan drew my gaze down to the rapist.

  The man was choking on the dirty rag she had stuffed into his mouth. She was doing a good job of making him pay for his sins. His big eyes, desperate moans, and struggling body, begged to be released from the real hell he had yet to suffer. His hands and feet were bound to each other, the rope biting into his wrist.

  “Nice. Where did you learn to tie a man up like this?”

  “You remember those boot camps I told you I enlisted myself into when I was younger? While others were being forced to be there for not listening to their parents, I saw it as free training. Plus, Angel and Devil, the ones who help me out sometimes, they taught me a lot more about weapons and killing.”

  “Smart,” I complimented. This was the side of my wife she had only given me peeks into last night. This was the side of Mecca that made her strong enough to run the Black Saints, and deadly enough to survive in a world that took out lives with the snap of a finger. This was why her men were afraid of her, so afraid, in fact, they would risk their lives against impossible odds and swallow their fears in front of her.

  The man continued wiggling about like a worm that had freed itself from its burrowing hole.

  “The girl you risked your life to get back. He raped her?”

  “Yes, and Raymond’s name has come up several times. The asshole wouldn’t give me anymore, so I was helping him find his way to hell.”

  It took several attempts, but I managed to yank the gag from the man’s mouth. The gag meant that she had been done questioning him, and I had barged in on her in the process of finishing him off.

  I placed the wood against the man’s forehead, applied pressure using my weight, and waited until his movement grew frantic.

  “Tell us who was responsible for the seizure of the Black Saints last shipment of merchandise?” Mecca asked, knowing what I was doing.

  More pressure was applied to the thick wood, likely putting a dent in his forehead as he struggled to think and fight the pain at the same time. Blood oozed from the area, painting a picture of how much pressure his head was under.

  “No one,” he squeezed out between his frantic hissing that had spit flying from his busted up mouth. I applied more pressure, making his body go deadly still, as one of his eyes bulged from the socket. The wood pressed so hard, at this point, any movement would shatter his skull.

  He hissed in and out several times but was unable to spit his words out. I lightened up the pressure a hair.

  “Give us a fucking name, or my wife is going to get the chance to see what your brains look like.”

  She stood, ogling the scene like an eager spectator. Her eyes roamed over the man, waiting to see me spill blood and expel the life from the rapist asshole’s body.

  “This is my last time asking,” she stated. “If I can’t get the answer from you, I’ll get it from someone else.”

  “No one sabotaged the shipments. Mr. Evans, he he he s-sabotaged both shipments himself.”

  At those words, Mecca’s eyes widened.

  “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

  The man didn’t have any reason to lie. Now, we were left with figuring out why Raymond Evans would sabotage his own shipments, but the man under the wood started convulsing. He was in the throes of a seizure. I didn’t care what his body was battling against, he had given us a big piece of one ugly puzzle.

  It all happened in an instant, Mecca stepped closer, her gun clutched in a way that it displayed those lovely nails I had mention earlier. The muffled blast from her silenced pistol released a rapid hiss before blood splattered the floor. The man’s body fell deadly still, the only mercy he had received from her.

  There wasn’t a hint of remorse present as she stared at him. The earlier idea I’d had resurfaced. My wife’s a stone cold killer.

  She was an anomaly, something that wasn’t supposed to exist. She was a shooter when she had to be, a killer when she needed to be, and a savage animal if she were pushed too far. She was a Vallin, before we had ever met.

  As mean and vicious as she was, she also had exceptional mental focus, the passion to be loving, and the drive to fight for the underdog. She was respected on both sides of her personality, by me and the people she led.

  Except for the day she had displayed her remarkable ability to drag a woman her own size through our house in four-inch-heels, she was mellower with me in a way that didn’t reflect those other sides.

  She was starting to settle into allowing me to be her husband, her lover, and her shoulder when she needed one. I enjoyed every aspect of my wife, and I would soak hell in gas and burn that motherfucker to ashes to protect her.

  She caught me staring. I was married to her, and until recently, had no idea the depth of her capabilities. She really was like the Quiet Chaos before the storm. I was beginning to think running the Black Saints was the easy part of her job, but this, being the killer, was where she struggled to find balance.

  “Are you La Asesina?” I asked.

  She laughed. “Yo
u’ve asked me that already. That’s something they made up in my neighborhood. What would make you ask me that again? Him?” She pointed at the dead man at our feet.

  “Yes. Him and the notion that most of your men think that you are.”

  “Good. Let them think it. They need to be afraid, so they’ll listen better.”

  She hadn’t answered my question. The idea that she could have been this badass female assassin was a turn on.

  Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

  My fucking phone continued to vibrate, disturbing my sexy female assassin fantasy.

  “You better answer that. We can’t afford to ignore phone calls. Life and death,” she reminded me. She has some nerve giving me advice the way she disappeared on a dime. Without dropping my gaze from hers, I swiped to answer and bought the phone up to my ear.

  “Khane,” I answered.

  “Do you still want to meet up so we can make a decision on if we need to take out groups or individuals?” He asked.

  “Yes,” I glanced around at the mess me and Mecca had made. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “I got this,” Mecca said. “Not my first rodeo and being married to you, I’m sure it won’t be my last.”

  Her comment had my lips twisting into a smile. Her being married to me. Was she kidding?

  “I’ll be there in about…” my eyes scanned up and down her sexy body. “Give me about an hour,” I said to Khane before hanging up.

  Mecca had piqued my interest the first day I met her, but now she had me so open, I could hardly concentrate on anything else. Was Mecca Vallin, queenpin of the Black Saints, the stealer of my heart, the sexiest fucking woman I had laid my eyes on, also La Asesina?

  32

  Mecca

  After Arjen had witnessed me kill the man, he had eyed me with lust hanging heavy in his gaze. Was he turned on by all of this chaos? Hmm.

  The man laid out at our feet was an unrecognizable mess of blood and broken bones. I stepped over to the stack of equipment Angel and Devil had left me. Fifty-gallon drum. Check. Eight pounds of lye. Check. Bleach. Check. Rags. Check. Fuel. Check. Book by JanJan Untamed. Check.

  Disposing of him this way took longer than tossing him in a body bag and taking him to my friend Zelda, who worked at the city morgue, however, I didn’t want to chance traveling so far with a body in my trunk. Eight pounds of lye, heated at 300 degrees, could destroy a human body in about three hours. Besides, I hadn’t read a good book in a long time.

  When I returned to the leaking body, a frown grew deep in Arjen’s handsome face.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning up my mess. If you hadn’t shown up, it would be me, him, and a good book.”

  He tilted his head, observing me for a few seconds before a smile broke out on his face. “You always clean up your own mess, from all of your kills? What do you do with the bodies?”

  Why was he stressing the word all like I was a serial killer?

  “I handle the kind of business I’m supposed to handle.”

  The peculiar expression on his face was hard to translate, but I spotted the sexual heat lingering behind it.

  “To answer your question, yes, I always clean up my own messes. Some I dissolve in lye, and I have a connect at the morgue that also destroys them for me. Remember the friend I put the first body on my gun for, the one I went to college with? She can disappear a body like it never existed.”

  His smile widened.

  “This may be a little morbid to say as we stand over a body that we are responsible for murdering, but you make me proud to be your husband.”

  Sweetness seemed out of character for Arjen, therefore his compliments caused a warm and fuzzy feeling to invade my senses. I gave him a shoulder shrug before batting my lashes at him playfully.

  “Thank you for such a lovely compliment. Flattery doesn’t usually work on me, but from you, I believe it does.”

  Without glancing down, he stepped across the body so that he was standing in my personal space, his eyes glued to mine, his lips turned into a sexy smirk. I was drawn in instantly as a floating sensation took control of my body. Hands at my hips, he kept me close, letting me feel how hard he was.

  “When I’m around you, I can’t help myself, I have to taste your lips, and caress this body,” he whispered, nipping my bottom lip with his teeth.

  Were we flirting with each other while standing over a dead bloody body? I didn’t pull away from his kiss because I wanted it, enjoyed the warm, soft press of his lips on mine. His kiss was slow at first, until he delved deeper, dredging up raw passion. His tongue brushed the seam of my lips, asking for permission to enter my mouth.

  Our kiss turned frantic, desperate, and the pent-up lust we’d been suppressing began to spill free. Was he about to fuck me right here next to a dead man? The depravity of it all floored me, but I wasn’t disgusted.

  A soft moan escaped as soon as his tongue caressed mine, easing deeper into my mouth to draw another moan from within. Hot juices leaked into my panties from being so turned on from his kiss and his hands roaming my body and squeezing my ass.

  He backed up, his eyes heavy with hunger and a mischievous twinkle I had never seen in them before.

  “How about I call my people to clean this up for you? I think we need to go home. Right now,” he said between harsh breaths. “I do believe we have some things we need to take care of before we try and figure out who is targeting you, or me for that matter.”

  Arjen’s kiss had drawn my focus enough that I forgot the dead bloody mess lying in my view. What was wrong with me? I was one sick puppy, to be so hot and ready for sex while a dead body rested at my feet. Arjen was just as sick, the notion making me believe with all certainty that we belonged together.

  The decision was an easy one. Clean up blood and gore or go home and let my husband fuck me silly?

  “Call your people? How fast can they get here?”

  “Fast enough for us to leave now and pass them on the highway,” he stated, taking out his phone and swiping his finger across the shiny surface.

  “I have a cleanup I need taken care of quickly. Double pay for the short notice. I’ll text you the coordinates.”

  He paused briefly, listening to whatever the person said.

  “Thanks.”

  After sending the coordinates, he shoved his phone into his back pocket and reached for my hand.

  “Just like that?”

  He grinned at my question. “Just like that,” he answered.

  I knew as well as he did that the type of service he had ordered was essential for the kind of lives we led. With the increasing number of bodies, I sensed I would be using his services more often. We walked away from the body like we had played a good game of racquetball.

  “We’ll take my car. I’ll send someone to pick up yours later.”

  He placed his hand at my back as he opened the front door for me.

  “My car was how you found me, right?”

  I wanted him to find me so that he could see that my off the grid moments weren’t random quests to commit suicide, but a necessary evil that came with this life.

  “Smart and beautiful. I do believe you were made for me, Mecca.”

  Although I didn’t reply, I was starting to think the same thing about him. The way we lived was almost a reflection of the other’s life. However, the idea that a high-level enemy was targeting me would have me wired until I figured out who it was and why.

  Once Arjen had me seated, he closed me into the car and took a leisurely walk around the vehicle, taking in our surroundings. He climbed in and fired up the car before easing us down the trail. His strong hand covered my thigh almost instantly.

  I enjoyed the attention he lavished on me because I believed it was genuine. After the Julie dragging situation, we’d agreed to be honest and respectful of each other, and so far, Arjen was racking up a lot of husband points.

  His hand slowly moved up my thigh, instantly pulling a knowing
smile from me. The lingering hunger his kiss had ignited was starting to flare back to life.

  “Pull over,” I ordered, glancing in his direction. No question, no comments, he slowed and pulled the car off to the side of the road. We parked on the narrow edge, made mostly of grass and fallen pebbles from the surrounding trees. The road was cut within a valley of trees that sat on either side of the road. Heavily clothed with fat leaves, the thick branches climbed up the thick crowd of hills and formed a never-ending set of gossamer curtains.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I unsnapped my seatbelt and tossed it aside before I hopped the center console and climbed into his lap. Tongue glossing across tingling lips, eyes piercing and heavy with lust, anxious hands already stroking my body, Arjen was down for whatever came next.

  We went at each other like ravenous animals, pawing, rubbing, and biting while he was sliding the seat back. We were bumping into the ceiling, banging against the glass, and knocking into the door as we fought our clothes. I was attempting to rip his clothes off as he was tearing at mine.

  “Are we insane to be this lustful after what we just did?” My voice was heavy with hot need.

  “Hell, no. We’re human. And hot for each other,” he whispered as his tongue sliced hot across my neck, leaving a burning trail of need. Done with toying with his buttons, I caught hold of each side of his shirt and ripped it apart. Buttons pinged against the glass of the window and door panel of the vehicle.

  “I like when you take charge like that. Shows me how much you want me,” he said as he grabbed my expensive blouse, mimicking what I had done to him, and ripped mine open. A wicked laugh spilled free before my tongue went searching for his. The heat in the confined space of the car added another thick layer to the passion that spilled from us.

  “Back seat,” I suggested, hating to leave, but climbed from his lap. Thankfully, he was in his Mercedes that was large enough for us to at least move around inside. The back seat was the only space large enough for me to stretch out enough to get my tight jeans off.

  One of my heels was left in Arjen’s lap as I climbed between the seats and into the back. My harsh breathing filled up the space of the car, adding to his.