Ugly Truths: A Contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 2)

by Blake Blessing

  “Jonah,” I shushed him, hoping to convey the importance of discretion.

  “I know. I fucking know. All right? I don’t have anything to do with these people. My dad left us when I was a toddler and you know my mom’s a junkie, right?”

  He didn’t wait for our response. Of course we knew. Even if we didn’t know details, we’d all shared basic facts about our parents. Our proverbial luck of the draw was what originally bonded us.

  “These fuckers,” He stabbed a finger toward the darkened building, “are the ones that supplied her with it. I don’t know how she paid for it most of the time. I don’t want to know. But I can’t condone it. She must have made them angry, because the guy who came to see me was definitely not a Devil’s Hand member.” He exhaled heavily. “These people are everything I hate. I’ve hated anyone even potentially associated with them my whole life.” His words were fierce but low. If I’d been able to see his eyes, they’d be sparking, turning the darkest brown into a raging inferno of despicable hate.

  Jonah fell back against the back seat, straightening his glasses and rubbing his temples. “Makes so much sense now.”

  Beck rested his head on his headrest and grunted.

  “Is it wrong that I feel marginally better about coming here tonight? If they’re related to you, and they clearly don’t hold any ill will toward you,” Angel seemed downright happy to see Beck this morning, in a disturbingly twisted way, “they won’t kill your friend. Right?” I hoped to freaking God that was the case.

  “No, Astrid.” A heavy palm landed on my thigh. “These men, they live by their own rules. They might feel affection for me because I’m related to a member, but if I turned on them, they wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep by burying my decaying corpse in the backyard.”

  The budding hope that burned in my chest winked out, and I buried my head in my hands. This was going to be a disaster.

  Please dear God. I’ve been an awful follower, and I hate church. I’ll probably never go. But if there’s a higher power out there, please watch over us.

  My first genuine prayer in years. It felt wrong to pray now, in the time of need, when so many years I refused. But I was human, and when all possible outcomes seemed to lead to death and destruction, we needed faith. I just hoped my brand of faith would do it.

  “Let’s go.” I lifted my head. “If we’re going to do this, we might as well do it now. The delay is making me anxious and it’s only giving me time to run through all the ways this could go wrong.”

  “Agreed.” They spoke in unison, and as one, we piled out of the car and strutted to our doom like we were the second coming of Christ. It was fitting, since this place was where Jesus took his sandals off. Much like where Jonah lived. The country.

  A motion censored light flared to life when we were about ten feet away. A large, forbidding concrete building stood before us. No wonder there hadn’t been any lights on inside. There probably were, only I couldn’t see through the concrete.

  Beck stopped at a red door, a clean pristine color, as if they’d painted it yesterday. They had a plain concrete building, but they apparently took pride in their red door. A silver devil’s head was mounted under the peephole. Their knocker. Beck knocked five times and a young, scraggly guy opened the door.

  “Beck. Hey man. I was with Angel this morning. It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand. Beck stared at it, and just as the guy started to pull it back, Beck took it.

  I let out a deep breath of relief. Beck was holding a completely deserved grudge. But now wasn’t the time to let them know it.

  “You too. We’re here to see Angel and Graves.”

  “I know. Follow me.” He led us down a hall with rooms shooting off to the left and right. It almost had a religious compound feeling to it. A shudder rolled down my body at the thought and I pushed it away.

  Hairy, leather clad men, drinking and shooting pool, occupied some rooms. Another room had several men watching sports on a huge projector. It seemed normal. There was something surreal about seeing people who committed great acts of evil living such a normal life, enjoying simple innocent pleasures.

  We descended down a concrete staircase, arriving at another red door. This one without a knocker. Our escort knocked, waiting for someone to answer.

  “Come in.” The words were muffled but distinct.

  The guy faced us. “I have to get back upstairs, but go in in. They’re waiting for you.” He turned and took the steps two at a time.

  Beck opened the door and led the way.

  Deer and elk heads hung on the maroon painted walls. Large wooden beams crossed the ceiling, giving the room a rustic feel. It was even complimented with overstuffed black leather furniture. The Devil’s Hands enjoyed the lodge vibe.

  Angel leaned against a pool table, arms crossed, staring at us without any of the friendliness of this morning. An older, shorthaired replica of Angel sat in a black chair facing a flat screen TV. Sons of Anarchy played without any volume. Seemed they really had a thing for motorcycle clubs.

  “Beck, good to see you. I never expected you to pay us a visit. Not that I’m complaining. Now what’s this you wanted to talk to us about? And who are your friends?” His voice was gruff and deep, powerful enough to command a room.

  Wait. He didn’t recognize Jonah? He looked just as baffled by the greeting as I had.

  “These are my friends. I would have preferred to come alone, or at least without the girl, but Angel insisted.” Beck scowled at Angel, who in turn smirked. Beck obviously didn’t return the familial connection, and he didn’t care if they knew it.

  Which probably wasn’t a good idea since it seemed his uncle was the president.

  “Angel did mention her. Come here, girl. What’s your name?” He motioned me forward and smiled. It was warm and inviting. So he was a Ted Bundy. You didn’t have a clue you were sitting with evil until he asked you to carry books for him, then you were kidnapped, raped, killed, then raped again.

  “I don’t bite. Come on.”

  Beck subtly nodded and I approached the man cautiously. “Hi, sir.” I whispered. He raised a brow, and his lips quirked. I coughed, clearing my throat and tried again. “Hi, sir.”

  “Such manners. Tell me, what’s your name?”

  Should I give him a fake name? Or my middle name? Close enough to the truth but not what anyone knows me as.

  He grabbed his flat stomach as he laughed. “I see the wheels working behind your eyes. It would be easy enough for me to verify your name. Might as well give it to me now.”

  Fine. He was right anyway. It would be easy enough for them to confirm. “Astrid.”

  “Beck, you’ve got a prickly one here. This your girlfriend?” Graves grinned at Beck, who’d moved up to stand directly at my back. The heat of his body gave me courage to keep from shaking.

  “Yes.” Beck snapped.

  The older man sighed, clearly not happy with our attitudes. “Have a seat. Don’t worry, we don’t have any plans to kill you all tonight. We save all our killing for Thursdays.”

  My eyes must have bugged out of my head because Angel and his dad busted up laughing. They laughed so long, both of them snorted quite a few times.

  “I love it when people believe that, Dad.” Angel walked over and slapped Graves on the back.

  “They’re joking.” Beck squeezed my shoulders and guided me to the furthest chair away from both men.

  “Seriously, son. What brings you here? Angel mentioned something about letting someone go, but I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” And I actually believed him. His eyes were blank, and other than when we first walked in, he hadn’t paid any attention to Jonah.

  Beck tilted his head. “You don’t know who this guy is, right here?” He jerked his head toward Jonah who was as white as a new tube of paint.

  Both Angel’s and his dad’s attention swung his way and he swayed in his chair. He was going to pass out if he didn’t breathe. I started to get up, but B
eck clamped an unforgiving hand on my shoulder.

  “No. Who are you?”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Reaper is one of your guys, right?” Beck drew their attention back to himself and Jonah sighed in relief.

  The older man sneered. “That fucker? He hasn’t been one of our men for about three years. We kicked him out with quite a few other members for skimming.”

  All three of our mouths fell open.

  “Why are you asking about Reaper?” Angel came around to sit on the desk, propping an ankle on his knee.

  “He’s been living with Jonah’s aunt and manipulated Jonah into doing runs. All in the name of Devil’s Hands.” Beck edged forward so he was sitting as close to them as he could without moving his chair.

  With each word Angel’s and Graves’s faces grew dark and etched with fury.

  “Kid,” Graves turned to Jonah. “What jobs have you been doing for Devil’s Hands?” His tone demanded an answer.

  Jonah coughed and squared his shoulders. His face was still pale, but he seemed to be pulling courage in with each lung full. “Drops mostly. A few pickups. To a rival club. Sometimes to strangers that didn’t have any affiliation to a club as far as I could tell.” He tugged at the neck of his shirt, the tattoo peeking out. That was something else I wanted to learn more about.

  Graves and Angel shared a look and with a quick nod, Angel strode out of the room, dripping with determination.

  I craned my neck to watch him leave, and when I swiveled back around, Beck was gazing at Graves pensively, and Graves had his hands steepled in front of his face, not looking at anything in particular.

  “Why bring this here? What trouble has the kid gotten into that you called on us?”

  “Jonah tried to quit doing the jobs. He didn’t even want to do them in the first place, but he felt coerced. Reaper didn’t take that too well. Told him the Devil’s Hands wouldn’t let him away so easy. Pretty much he was dead.” Beck sprawled back with an easiness that didn’t fit in with this scene.

  What did that mean for Jonah? If Reaper wasn’t really a Devil’s Hand member, then he wasn’t in trouble with them. Hopefully Jonah and Beck would know to keep quiet about the videos.

  “What was in the packages?” Graves asked.

  “I’m not sure. If I had to guess, drugs.” Jonah was starting to get back some of his color. The tension we’d carried in with us started to dissipate. Not all the way, there was still danger here, but it morphed into something else. We thought we had the answers and needed to force the Devil’s Hands to follow suit. But we didn’t have the answers. We hadn’t even known the questions.

  “Devil’s Hands got out of the drug business right around the time Reaper was kicked out.” Graves flicked a bland look at Beck, which had him stiffening.

  Beck shook his head for several long seconds. “No. No, that’s not right. You fuckers supply my mom with her drugs. She told me.”

  She actually told him that? Why would a mother ever tell their child they did drugs and where they sourced them? I guessed a strung-out mother would find no problem doing it.

  “No, son. We never gave her drugs. I wouldn’t do that to you, knowing she was the only one raising you. Especially when you wouldn’t let us in your life.”

  Beck looked torn, like he didn’t know what to believe. If this was his family, and he’d shunned them for a perceived wrong that wasn’t even true, it would eat him up. Could he live with that? I believed he could. It was never too late to right your wrongs.

  “Then where did she get the drugs? Whoever gives them to her keeps her fried out of her freaking mind.” Beck’s voice was thick with ragged emotion.

  “I don’t know. She could have found a dealer anywhere. If she said it’s a Devil’s Hands member then she could have found one of our lower guys. They wouldn’t know not to give her anything. We haven’t broadcasted you were family.” Graves stood up from his chair and walked around the table, a silver chain swaying where it dangled from his belt loops.

  He stopped in front of Beck. “Is this why you’ve stayed away all these years?”

  Beck lowered his head and whispered. “Yes.”

  “God, Beck. Why didn’t you ever ask us?” He propelled Beck from the chair by his arms then engulfed his in a bittersweet hug.

  “Because I’m an idiot.” Beck’s voice was muffled against Graves’ shoulder.

  “Excuse me.” I stood too, sliding next to them so they could both see me from their hug. “What about Jonah. If they aren’t part of your club anymore, does he still have a hit on him?”

  “A hit?” Graves’ mouth curled in amusement.

  “Whatever you want to call it. They’ve been chasing him. And the bruises on his face are from them too.” I gestured to Jonah’s face, where he turned as red as candied cherries.

  Graves’ face turned to stone as he set Beck away from him. He smoothed a hand down his leather vest and offered a hand to Jonah. Now we were all standing up in a confined circle, nearly breathing each other’s air.

  “This shouldn’t have happened to you. Normally, I’d say I wouldn’t get involved with another club’s business, but if they’re operating under our name, then it’s my fucking business.” He growled. “Angel shouldn’t be long. Let’s see if he comes up with anything. But even if he doesn’t, you don’t have to worry. I give you my word. We’ll put a stop to Reaper and his dickhead buddies from coming after you.” He clamped a tight hand over Jonah’s shoulder and he nearly buckled under the weight.

  “Thank you.” Jonah turned away, hiding his face.

  The relief was so real, my own eyes misted over. This was a fantastic solution that I never saw coming. The Devil’s Hands would protect Jonah against those that would wrongly use their name. It was a poetic kind of justice that I could get behind. Now if we could figure out how to help Rhys.

  For the next twenty minutes, Graves chatted with Beck about his life and what he was up to. He knew he played and had even watched a show or two, which blew Beck’s mind. He asked a bit about me, believing I was Beck’s girlfriend and apparently a soon to be member of the family. Every time he’d make an offhand comment, Beck would pretend he hadn’t noticed me watching him and let the conversation continue. It was odd, but I wouldn’t be the one to let the cat out of the bag.

  The door crashed against the concrete wall as Angel strode in with two men behind him, carrying an unconscious Reaper between them.

  “Fucking finally,” Angel spat, fury radiating from his body as his luscious locks swayed with each step. He was every inch the avenging angel. It was a perfect name for him. “Scythe tracked him down at a bar he hangs at.”

  Reaper was tossed in the middle of the floor, which appeared to be covered in discolored stains. I hoped it wasn’t blood. This was getting to be too much. I faced the others to try and tamp down my overactive imagination.

  “You kids don’t have to stay for this. It’s about to get messy.” Graves glanced at Reaper with a sneer before focusing back on Jonah. “Lie low for a few days, but then you’ll be golden. Angel will call Beck if there’s any trouble. But these cunts are too fucking stupid to do any real harm. I can’t believe their little scheme has lasted this long.”

  “Wait.” Jonah stepped toward Graves as Beck and I started toward the door. “I need to know, why did Margaret Perez work for Devil’s Hands?”

  A fist tightened around my heart from Jonah’s pleading eyes. He wanted answers, bad. How could I have forgotten this was the one place that he could have gotten them? I shoved my fingers in the waistband of Beck’s jeans to prevent him from interfering. Jonah needed to do this on his own, and Beck had spoken enough for him tonight.

  A sad smile flitted across Graves’ face. “Now she was a great woman. I’m sorry to tell you, she passed a few years ago. She was here when there was a different president. He was fucking dirty, dealing drugs and firearms on the street. He tried to get into hookers, but there’s not a market for that here in the suburbs. Not like he thought
there’d be. Why do you ask about her?”

  Jonah swallowed hard and tipped up his chin. “She was my mother.” Identical shock flashed in the eyes of both Graves and Angel. “I found letters she wrote to my dad. She sounded a lot like someone that didn’t have a choice. I want to know why.” Jonah’s voice was strong and steady. This was the boy that gave speeches and won school elections. This hellishly confident Jonah.

  Graves cast a strange look at Beck who turned away. “She was coerced. Her man was the drug runner. Only he didn’t want to be that anymore because he had a woman and baby. He blackmailed the last president before he was killed. Prez told her that if she wanted to keep you safe, then she had to take over his runs. But she didn’t know he was murdered until she was sent to prison. We couldn’t tell her before then, unless we wanted to follow in Bane’s footsteps.”

  I believed him. He was too open for this to all be lies. No, he was giving us the ugly truth about what happened. A woman lost her man because he wanted to get clean, and then was forced to take his place, until she was sentenced, leaving her son all alone. That was as ugly a truth as I’d ever discovered.

  Jonah. His dad hadn’t run off like he thought. He’d been killed. Murdered. In the short span of a few days, the solid foundation of Jonah’s truth crumbled away. He was going to have to sort through what was real and what wasn’t. And we’d be there for him.

  Jonah’s eyes were round in his face, nearly unblinking. “Can I come back? I need to process this. But I can’t think about it anymore right now. I mean talk about it. I’ll be thinking about it.” He rambled.

  Angel stepped up next to Graves, looking at Jonah in a new light.

  With a somber tilt of the mouth, Graves held out his hand to Jonah. “You can do more than come back. Bane was my little brother.”

  The shock. Why was the room suddenly white? Where was all the sound? As the color slowly started to trickle back into my vision, I pulled my fingers from Beck’s waistband. The only reason I hadn’t fallen sideways was because I had a death grip on him, but I was better now. Sure. I was better.