Hotstreak: A Bad Boy New Adult Romance (Chaos, Nevada Book 2)

by Liz K. Lorde

  Again, he took his time. “It’s possible, I mean I could cut down the damage that I do. But if my club needs me, I’ll do it. I’m not some thug that just rolls down the street and offs a man for looking at me the wrong way,” he explained.

  “Okay,” I said, “I understand that, and I never saw you as one. Not now. Not ever.”

  Something hopeful glimmered in his eyes, like I’d cast off a shadow that stained his soul. I kissed at his neck and whispered, as he held me, “You’re not a monster, even if the people and things around you make you feel like one.”

  Sleep cradled us as we melted into one another, and the last thing I could remember was him holding me tight.

  22

  Madeline

  Gabriel had slipped out some time before I woke up in the morning, and it had hurt me something fierce. Still, I knew that I needed some time away from him – things were just too intense between us. The morning sickness had come again, along with more texts from Damien on a different number. Now I was officially worried – the worst, darkest thoughts skittered along the edges of my mind.

  There was a note that I found tucked beneath an alarm clock on the nightstand, and the sight of it made my heart flutter.

  Madeline, I left a spare key underneath the welcome mat. You come and go as you need, no strings attached, no questions… nothing. You take the time that you need, just don’t expect me to wait around. Be safe, stay on the straight and narrow.

  -G

  Staying away from Gabriel was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done. Especially with his open invitation, and knowing that Mom and Dad weren’t going to be happy with me – coming back to them wouldn’t be good enough, I’ll be expected to grovel.

  The nausea ran its fingers against my stomach again. Convincing myself to do a walk-in to my doctor was hard, but I knew that it had to be done. When I arrived at my GP’s place, I had my legs spread apart and my chin resting in my hand, as I waited in the lounge of Doctor Messinger’s office. There were only a couple of people waiting around, flicking pages of magazines I wouldn’t be caught dead reading; bunch of bullshit about celebrities and gossip, all that jazz. Not my scene.

  Another text came in and my stomach dropped at feeling the buzz. I hoped it was Gabriel.

  DAMIEN: Meet me tonight.

  DAMIEN: Alicias. 7:30.

  DAMIEN: You don’t show up. I will hurt your family. Try me?

  God damn him. He was always one to manipulate, always saying shit to make me feel guilty – like I had to be with him.

  Never again.

  The door on the far right of the waiting room creaked open, and a young nurse poked her pretty little head out. She looked nothing like me, reminded me, that I was the black sheep in a veritable sea of white. Plain faced beauty, with a short, sharp nose, and a full head of shiny blonde hair that was done in a ponytail. “Miss Persimmons?”

  I cringed at using my legal last name, but knew that I had to if I wanted my insurance to cover this shit. I stood up from my chair, and waved, “I’m coming.”

  After some boring chatter with the perfectly nice Nurse, and getting my weight measured at nearly 148, I sat down on the doctor’s bed. The paper crinkled noisily as I adjusted myself, letting out a long, drawn out sigh. Outside, it would look like I couldn’t be more bored and eerily calm. But inside, there was only hell. It felt like the devil himself was pricking my skin over and over again with hot needles.

  Every third thought in my brain told me that pregnancy couldn’t be. How could it?

  Damien. That scum sucking piece of shit… if he got me knocked up…

  The knob on the door turned, and the German-American Dr. Messinger strolled on inside. He flashed a smile of perfect white teeth, and his native accent was hardly noticeable. “Meine freund, Madeline. How are you?”

  “Not so fine,” I admitted, bringing myself to the edge of the bed, “mostly in need of a stiff drink. You?”

  Messinger stepped over towards me as the door closed itself shut. “I’ve had my morning medicine already,” he teased. “You say that you have morning sickness?” Now I was getting that familiar, disapproving look.

  “I do,” I told him, “I did, and it happened this morning too.”

  Messinger brought a stethoscope to my chest, listening to my heart, and then pulled away. “And you haven’t peed on a stick?”

  “N-no. I’m not pregnant,” it sounded like I was trying to convince myself, more so than the Doc.

  “Of course you’re not,” he said, “you just throw up each morning because it makes you feel good.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Yeah, well, I make sure to – you know, use protection.”

  “Mm-hm,” Messinger put a hand to my head, and it was strangely cooling. “Condoms ?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Every time.”

  “Mm-hm,” Messinger stepped from me and to the computer sitting atop a blue desk. He typed away, and the silence between was filled with the clicks of his mouse. “You know no type of protection is a sure thing.”

  Aside from not getting my walls filled. “I’m aware,” I grumbled, “but realistically speaking – the chance of it… I mean, I would have felt it break.”

  “More ways than that,” Messinger sucked in a breath through his teeth, turned around to face me, and leaned backwards against the desk – his hands holding some of his weight. “For all you know your partner could have taken it off, without you knowing. Furthermore, I’ve heard some sordid tales,” he raised his eyebrows high. “I cannot name any names,” he gave a throaty chuckle, “but some patients had gotten back to me, or Janice at the front desk had caught word, that they later discovered their boyfriends – husbands even – were putting holes in condoms. Or swapping out birth control pills for sugar ones.” Messinger shook his head, “this is why I don’t get involved anymore,” he said, wagging his finger.

  My stomach filled with dread, and I couldn’t bring myself to say a word.

  “Anyway,” he let out a sigh and walked towards the door, “come on, if you’re sure we’ll rule it out real quick.”

  ***

  I just looked at myself in the mirror. There was a face looking back. A face that I couldn’t recognize. Black and red hair, lifeless blue eyes, and a distant expression.

  How did I let this all happen? Nothing felt very real, aside from the harsh new reality.

  I’m pregnant. And instead of feeling joy, or hope, all I could taste were ashes in my mouth. This wasn’t some coincidence, there wasn’t a chance in hell – no, this was Damien.

  When he started, I couldn’t know for sure. The sickness rose through my stomach and up into my chest, threatening to turn into a hot bile; every ounce of my strength had to be channeled into keeping all of that shit down, and I braced my hands against the sink – turning my knuckles ghostly white. The pure grips of terror clenched around my throat, and my heart quickened in my chest. I felt the need to move. To pace. Every neuron in my brain was like fire, twisting and churning against the cutting winds.

  Dad would throw me out, and mom would weep.

  What would Gabriel think? Things were already too hard and fast with him. He’d never look at me the same.

  I swallowed but the pain remained, and I turned on the water faucet as high as it would go. Sitting down beside the sink, I brought my arm up to my mouth and huddled my body as tightly together as I was able; screaming felt good, but I knew that it wouldn’t fix anything. I’d never even wanted kids to begin with, or at least – I hadn’t. All my dreams of making it out of this small town and hitting it big with my guitar; they scattered like leaves in the wind, along with all my hope for love and a normal life.

  That pain and sorrow quickly turned to anger, every hot coal building and building a candescent rage in my chest.

  All I could see swimming in my head was Damien’s horrible face. I’d never felt so hurt, never felt such a pull to hurting someone before.

  After picking myself up from the floor, an
d turning off the faucet, I gathered my strength and swore that I’d make the bastard pay for doing this to me.

  Even if it got me killed.

  23

  Gabriel

  I felt horrible for leaving Madeline in the morning without saying goodbye; knowing that she wanted, or even more so, needed, time away from me… it ripped me up inside. The sun was just peeking over Sequim when I hit the road, fingers of orange light washing over the picture-esque scenery. Riding for a time, it gave me a sense of peace – to be one with my bike and the road. Later in the morning, I arrived just outside the clubhouse where two prospects were standing guard; they manned the flimsy linked gate side by side. The gate itself had wheels on it and a series of heavy duty locks, and the fence itself was barbed near its top.

  Rolling up towards the mouth of the gate, I stopped in front of it and raised my chin the prospect I immediately recognized as Madwild. “Surprised you’re not hung over.”

  Madwild thumbed at his nose and sucked in a big breath of air through his nose. “Yeah well my momma didn’t feed me at her tit,” he spat at the ground, “it was all Pabst for me, heh.”

  “Least it wasn’t Bud.”

  “Yeah,” he snorted and turned around to face the gate, undoing the set of locks; some feet to my right, the other prospect moved into position – and together they slid the gate open. “Catch you later, Angel.”

  After parking my chrome beauty, I made my way into the club – in total, there were two men outside and one other prospect stationed outside the front doors. Luke had been catching wind of the shit that Allen’s Knights were stirring, and with our impending attack on the Demonios, it was only a matter of time before someone got stupid in the head and pissed us off.

  In the front lounge, there was a small gathering around the couch and table. No music was playing, and Chelsea wasn’t to be found. Sexton craned his head to look towards me, and flashed that cocky smile, nodding his chin and then returning to what the MC members were looking at. As I sauntered on over to see what in the hell was happening, I recognized the boys as follows: Sexton, Luke, Haymitch, and Benny.

  I cleared my throat, and looked at the table which had a host of freshly made patches. They were simple, beautiful, and bone white – engraved with the various titles of our organization. Two of each.

  Luke looked to me, “Good to see you, VP.”

  “Prez,” I half-heartedly saluted. “Got ‘em in huh? They look nice.”

  Luke handed me the new patches that belonged to me, and I placed them into my pocket for later. It was a small point of pride, to hand stitch them into our respective cuts.

  Benny, who had a mass of shaggy blonde hair, crossed his arms over one another. “Should I hold onto the Road Captain, one?”

  Luke turned his head and handed him the Road Captain patches, “Of course, man. It’ll be put to vote soon, but it’s a done deal.”

  Once all of the patches were sorted, Luke called us in for Church. We all sat down in a circle, and Luke began the conversation with: “We have a problem.”

  Haymitch groaned, “When don’t we?”

  I chimed in, “Never. It’s always something.”

  The group nodded in agreement, and Luke picked up where left off, “Circumstances have changed with the Demonios. Originally, it was just going to be me and Angel. Now, I’m thinking, we’re gonna take you too, Bruiser.”

  Sexton nodded his head in agreement, “All good with me, brother. What’s changed?”

  “Demonios are changing up their pattern. Instead of re-upping their supply where they usually get it at, which is what I’d hoped we’d hit successfully tonight… they’re holding court midday at Widow’s Point.”

  I leaned in against the table, “Why would they meet there?”

  “Not sure. Thought it might be a trap, but the intel comes from a reliable guy in their charter. Might have been their supplier wanting to change things.”

  “But the same night we’re going to hit them?”

  Benny sank back into his chair, “It definitely doesn’t sound right. Chance. Betrayal. Paranoia. Whatever it is, we shouldn’t risk this.”

  Luke shook his head, “No, we shouldn’t. We have to.”

  Like a burning rose unfolding, Madeline flickered through my head – and I felt a surge of heat in my chest. “We don’t have to do anything. If this is a trap, or something stupid, it’s, it’s going to blowback on us, Prez.”

  “No it’s time we made our mark. We don’t do this? It’ll be another month at least before we get another shot.” Luke sucked in a breath, “no. This is our chance to put some fear in Allen, and our payback for Jasmine.”

  I could feel my jaw clench, “This is our chance to bring heat from the police.”

  Sexton verbally agreed, “Still, I don’t know if I’d be able to wait any longer…”

  There was a fury glimmering in Luke’s eye. “I have been patient,” he said, “I have been careful. Now? Now it’s time to get a little reckless, and let them know there’s hell to pay.”

  It didn’t sound like a well-constructed hit any more. Now it sounded like pure vengeance. “Throw it to a vote,” I told him.

  Luke stared at me coolly for a moment, and then said, “All in favor?”

  Sexton and Luke raised their hands, and I knew that Benny would vote with me. So everyone in the room looked to Haymitch, who hadn’t weighed in much on the issue. I didn’t care for the look in his eyes, because I could tell that he was coming from an uncertain place. Listen to the President, or side with the VP? Couldn’t say that I envied his position.

  Haymitch raised his hand hesitantly, and the foolishness was set in stone. Fuck.

  Luke brought down the gavel, “We ride at 2. Patchwork, I want you to come with as well. You’re gonna keep your eyes and ears peeled at our drop-off point. Been hearing that Alex has been spotted around the way here at the base, so I’m not pulling any more than just you guys.”

  We discussed a couple of other things, and when all was said and done – everyone retired to the front lounge. Except for me. I made my way through the halls into the smaller backroom lounge. There were two prospects and a hangaround chilling, the hangaround, Marcus Delphaine, shot darts at the dartboard; the other two were sitting and having a smoke.

  When the two prospects noticed me, they immediately stood up and clasped hands with me. We did the usual greeting, and I motioned with my head for the dark haired man to follow me. As I led him outside of the backroom, I remembered him to be John Phoenix. His eyes were green like verdant fields, and he was known to be a deathly quiet man. His background, from what Luke and I could gather, was very different than the usual. He had no ID. No memory. Nothin’. We only considered him because we liked the way he took down a few dudes at the Wild Turkey.

  “Got a job for you, John,” I said.

  John put his hands behind his back, and straightened out his back. Never was much of a talker.

  “There’s this girl that I need you to watch over. Black and red hair, curvy in all the right places. Total babe.” My heart clenched at the thought of Madeline’s blue eyes, and I told him about a couple of spots that she might frequent. Every part of me was hoping that she just decided to stay, or that she’d be home and waiting for me. It had been a while since I’d been shot at, but the fear that rattled me that day so many months ago was still fresh – now I had another reason to stay alive. Guess that’s bad news for those boneheaded Demonios fucks.

  24

  Gabriel

  The thunderous noise of our bikes ripped through the air around us as we sped uphill along a smooth, narrow road. When we were as close as we could comfortably be, and nearing Widow’s Point, Luke led us off road and to a spot in the thicket of trees and foliage.

  The four of us parked our bikes. Once everyone grabbed their weapons and stepped away, I reached into the holding compartment of my motorcycle, and pulled out a folded up camouflage tarp. I spread it out through the air, and it lands slanted ag
ainst the chrome bikes. The tarp itself was Benny’s idea, and though it seemed like something that would catch attention up close; it was argued that from afar, something covered up would look less conspicuous. It was slathered in leaves and done in a dark green pattern.

  Once I fitted the tarp across our vehicles, Luke gave the go-ahead signal. Patchwork stood back and would remain the look out. He was dressed in plaid and plain clothes, with a glock tucked against his backside. This was going to be on him to report and handle threats at our go point – without a secure go point, there would be no hope in a FUBAR situation.

  FUBAR was not the goal, especially with the thought of Madeline burrowing into my heart. I grabbed the extra Uzi and magazines from Bruiser, and undid its safety. When we were in the field of combat, or undergoing operations, it became almost second nature to refer to our callsigns. Reaper for Luke, Bruiser for Sexton, and Angel for me.

  I had to see her again. Needed to. There were aches in my bones and in my breast, that I’d never felt I would feel ever again – and so many more that I hadn’t ever imagined.

  Bruiser, Reaper, and myself followed along the dirt path. We made sure to keep our distance from it, but we kept it in sight as we trekked up the hillside.

  “How many are we expecting?” I asked Luke.

  “Least 6. Three from them, and three from their connect. Our informant wasn’t too keen on details, but what the fuck can you do, you know?”

  Sexton’s boot crunched a twig beneath it, “Sounds like fun odds.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, “so long as we get the jump on them.”

  We moved in relative quiet for a number of minutes, the silence only being broken by the crunching of leaves and sticks, the quiet chirping of birds and the wind that rustled the trees. Now and again, squirrels would scamper along the floor of the forest. This place had its history. Grim, horrible history. Before it was known as Widow’s Point, it was simply The Point. Where all the young bloods would gather in youthful rebellion; drinking, smoking, making out and everything else it entailed. It was way before my time, but Dad had told me about it plenty.