Three Hitmen: A Triple Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 2)

by Alice May Ball

  The riders made a long line, and spread out on either side of the van. They then drew slowly across the deserted plain to the point Ryder had given them. The Blades watched as the beams from the bike headlamps made crisscrosses over the pale brown desert and the Skulls clustered around the van.

  Ryder held the throwaway cellphone in his hand. In five minutes or less, it should get a text message from another burner in the middle of town.

  The van stopped by a bare tree at the designated location, and the outriders all leaned their bikes, looking around as they climbed off.

  Ryder said, “If all’s well, the message will say, ‘Johnny,” for ‘good,’ ‘Michael’ for ‘bad,’ or ‘Levon’ for ‘wait’.”

  Bear asked him, “And if all is not well?”

  “It’ll say ‘Seeger,’ or, worst of all, no message.”

  “‘Seeger’?”

  “Means, ‘Get out of Denver’.”

  Four minutes later, the burner vibrated and Ryder read the message. He nodded to Bear and the other Blades. Chuck Berry’s ‘Johnny B Goode’ blasted from his bike’s stereo and Ryder led the Blades to surround the Skulls.

  Haughey stood by the side of the van. He and the other Skulls had confused, uncertain looks on their faces as they furtively scanned the far, empty distance behind Ryder and the Blades.

  Ryder dismounted and walked slowly towards Haughey and the black van. Ryder put out his upturned hand. “Keys, bro.”

  “Change of plan, bro,” Haughey said, but there was a catch in his voice. “We’ll keep the van.” Ryder squinted into Haughey’s eyes. The Skulls all drew weapons. The Blades pulled out their hardware. The two gangs eyed each other along the sights of their handguns.

  Ryder said, “We have a deal, Haughey.”

  “Wasn’t much in the deal for the Skulls, Ryder.”

  “It was what you asked for. And you came to us.”

  “Things change, Ryder.” All around Haughey the Skulls firmed their grips on their weapons. The Skulls were surrounded, facing out. The Blades’ position was much stronger, with their weapons pointed in at the Skulls from a wide arc. But the Skulls outnumbered them three to two.

  Then they froze as Ryder raised his left arm, two fingers aloft.

  The sides of Haughey’s hair whipped as two high velocity bullets cracked into the van’s side, one each side of his head, just inches from his ears.

  The Blades didn’t move. Ryder didn’t move, but he spoke slowly and deliberately. “Anyone see where those shells came from?” The Skulls looked about frantically. Haughey’s face was red.

  Ryder approached Haughey, his right hand still out, waiting. “No, I think Plan A should still work, Haughey. You can’t tell how many snipers are out there, can you? This part of the game is over.”

  Deliberately, the Blades all drew weapons. The Skulls knew their choices. With snipers against them, out of sight and out of range, their chances of winning any kind of a fight were close to zero. They all looked to Haughey, but their shoulders were round, slumped and deflated.

  Ryder pushed his face close to Haughey’s. “As you say, change of plan. Bro.”

  Chapter 19

  The Blades took the van, with the cargo, to a warehouse. Ryder went downtown to a bar and met up with Hammer and Scot, a couple of old buddies from the service. “You were right,” Hammer told him. “There was a party sneaking in behind you. You were right again when you said, ‘balaclavas, hoodies and no patches.’ They were not bikers.”

  “I knew it.” Ryder raised a glass to Hammer. “Good shooting, by the way. I assume that was you.” Hammer smiled a modest acknowledgement.

  Scot said, “We waited about three-quarters of a mile back from you, and three vehicles slid along behind your backs, just as you expected.”

  “FBI?” Ryder asked him.

  “Two cars of FBI, one ATF.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “The agents and officers are all trussed up with cable-ties, and they’re right where we found them. We went in behind them and they all failed the test.”

  “Which test?”

  “The ‘does this smell like chloroform’ test.”

  Hammer said, “They’ll have to fish their cars out of the quarry back there.”

  Ryder asked, “And their IDs?”

  “We took pictures. Seem to have lost all of their wallets somehow.”

  “None of them saw you?”

  “Nope, and not their dashcams neither.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “We came up low from behind. The cameras point forward. They couldn’t have seen us.”

  Ryder raised his glass again. “Good work.”

  Scot checked his watch and said, “A concerned citizen should be making a call about now from the center of town on an untraceable phone. He’ll be letting the Highway Patrol know that there’s six guys in suits out on the flats, wriggling around and making like long, black fishes. Another shot, Ryder?”

  “Thanks, bro, but I’m good. Something I need to take care of.”

  Chapter 20

  When he got back to the clubhouse, Ryder stopped in at the office. He told John Reader his theory. “The Feds, along with ATF, set the Skulls up. Maybe for a deal over Iron and Jam, who knows.”

  He stretched his legs out as he reached for his whiskey. His thighs were a little stiff. “Skulls were supposed to hand their weapons stash to us, then the Feds were going to pick us up for taking it.” John Reader’s eyebrow rose slightly.

  “Could be,” John Reader said. He probably had that figured out from the start, although, Ryder thought, with John there’s no way you would ever know.

  Ryder looked into the distance. “Skulls turned rat. Well, Haughey and Mace did, at any rate.”

  John Reader said, “That’s for later. Meanwhile, we got us a truckload of military grade hardware.”

  Ryder said, “You think this could have been Haughey’s play for Iron’s patch? Seeing himself more permanently at the top of the Skulls council table?”

  John Reader said, “Could be.”

  Ryder considered it. “Trouble at the Skulls top table may not be bad for the Blades.”

  “Could be,” John Reader said.

  Chapter 21

  She was outside in the warm night air, sitting on the saddle of her bike, parked in the shadows by an outbuilding. Somehow, she needed to connect with the familiarity of the saddle, and the completely alien strangeness of her coupling with Ryder.

  She saw him go into the clubhouse. He didn’t even stop or look around for her outside. Something had been building up and somehow it felt like this evening was the climax. It was maybe twenty minutes before he came out again. When he did, she saw that he was looking for her. She didn’t move. She waited for him to see her before she said, “Did you find Mary Ann okay?”

  His steps toward her lengthened. She said, “She have what you need, Ryder? She give you her special gift?”

  His eyes blazed when he reached her and her blood rose. She said, “I don’t suppose you got any left for me now. Not up to a second go just yet.” He grabbed her jacket by the lapels and pulled her off the bike.

  “Maybe you could manage it if I sucked your cock. Would that do it for you, Ryder?” His neck muscles tensed. “Why don’t you make me, Ryder? Why don’t you shove your big, hard cock in my throat? See if you can shut me up that way. See if you can pump me full of hot biker fuel.” Her tongue flashed across her lips.

  His lips tightened and drew back over his big white teeth and his nostrils widened. “Oh,” she pressed her hand on the front of his jeans and said, “Looks like you got your motor running. Mary Ann must not have finished the job for you.”

  He grabbed her throat. “There you go,” she said between her bared teeth, “You are rising to the occasion.” She felt the urgent swelling at the front of his pants. The denim was stretched full and throbbing against her.

  His voice grated, low and fierce, “Got any more?”

  Sh
e arched an eyebrow at him. “Well, Ryder, what are you going to do about it?”

  He spun her and shoved her against the wall of the shed. She sighed as her hands slapped on the brick. His hand came up into her skirt and found her torn panties still hanging in ribbons, exposing her hot core. He grabbed greedily at her, rubbed at her wet pussy, and slid up between the cheeks of her clenching ass.

  She gasped as his thumb burst into her tight little star. His fingers dove into her hot folds and she groaned, almost growling. He rubbed her at the base of her tingling clit, and her insides churned like bubbling lava. Nothing else mattered now.

  Roughly, he yanked her thighs farther apart. As the hard bulb of his hot shaft pierced her, she bit her thumb and a rasp dragged out from her throat. He stretched her wide, and she shifted her ass up to let him farther in. His breath was hot in her ear and his voice was low and hard. “Big enough for you?”

  Her fist thumped on the wall and her body clenched. Her back arched as her soft walls stretched around his fat shaft. He lifted her leg to spread her wider as he drove harder into her tight pussy. He yanked her hair with the hand not holding her leg in the air.

  Her body flushed with sudden heat, her muscles shaking with uncontrollable need. The hard ridges of his shaft sawed into her, harder and deeper as his thighs slapped her buttocks.

  She trembled as the mounting waves of need crashed through her. With his shaft buried to the hilt in her, his body pressed against her buttocks, and her thighs spread almost painfully, he said, “Think you can get your throat around it, little girl?”

  Her eyes watered. She clamped them shut, bit on her arm and shook her head. She ached for him. Her whole body was hungry for him. Her ass stung as his big hand slapped her. “Let’s find out.” He hauled his thick cock out of her and pushed her to her knees.

  Her face was wet from tears of pain-filled pleasure, and the slick head of him twitched angrily in front of her. “Is this what you want?” He pushed it in front of her trembling lips. Her breath was hot and hard. He didn’t give her time to answer but she started to nod as he yanked her by the hair and shoved it in to fill her hot, soft mouth.

  His musky scent mingled with the unfamiliar tang of her juices. The head of his hard, thick shaft thrust along her tongue, and jammed against the back of her throat.

  Her throat muscles stretched, and she had to fight the spasms of reflex as his velvety girth drove through her mouth and into her tight throat. He pulled her hair until her lips met his wiry hair and his balls lightly tapped against his chin.

  She quaked as his hips propelled him in and out of her mouth, all the way to the tip and then back, right into his groin. She grabbed his hard, tight buttocks and clawed as she pulled him even harder into her. Pulses beat along and though him, one after another, and she took him all the way down. His heat exploded in bolts of thick, hot cum.

  His sticky, salty sweetness filled her mouth and dribbled out of her mouth.

  The way he held her afterwards, the way he stroked her with such strength and restraint, had to mean something. She knew right then that she would give Ryder anything, just so long as he wanted her enough to take it.

  Epilogue

  Drops of water echoed from the far end of the dark warehouse. Haughey moved uncomfortably on the steel chair. Ryder’s voice behind him was too quiet; he had to strain to hear him properly.

  “The Skulls have always had excellent legal representation. What’s wrong? They’re bullshit charges against Iron and Jam. I’d have thought you could just make them go away.

  He tried to turn in his seat to look at Ryder. He was tied too tight. The light in his face made it hard to concentrate. “We thought so, too. We had the judge squared away.”

  His head turned from side to side as Ryder paced behind him. Ryder said, “So, what’s the problem?”

  “He’s not going to hear the case.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “It’s been listed for Judge Sage.”

  Ryder stopped. Jesska’s father. Haughey said, “Ryder, you got the Blades’ say-so for this, for having me tied to a damned chair? Seems like you’re flexing your muscle when it ain’t your beef.”

  Ryder leaned down and spoke next to Haughey’s ear. His voice was low, strong, andsharp as glass. “How the Blades feel about you leading their men into that trapis their affair. Standing out in front, that was me you put in the frame. You almost handed me over to the feds, Haughey. That’s my beef.”

  Ryder spoke over Haughey’s head, straight to Bear who was in the darkness.

  “Didn’t I say that I hate guns? Ugly business. They’re noisy, they jam and go wrong, and they’re always empty when you need ’em most. Add to that you never know where the fuck they’ve been. When you lift a gun from a gun show or a guy on the street, what kind of company are you really taking away with you? What other names are you dragging along behind you? Military kit is the worst of all. A fuckin’ AK? Man, that could have been used by child soldiers in Sudan. Or even used on them.” He paced some more.

  “Those are all good reasons to hate the whole business of guns, but they ain’t why I hate them. Really, I hate them ’cause they’re so damned impersonal. Where’s the fun of killing someone from across the street?”

  He grabbed Haughey’s head and twisted until he felt the crack. He looked up at Bear, “Simple, silent, swift, and yet so satisfying.” Haughey’s wide-eyed frozen expression didn’t change as Ryder let go and his head lolled down onto his chest. Ryder sauntered to the door, and Bear followed. “When they got to go, send ’em off the Ryder way.”

  They shielded their eyes as they stepped out into the sun. Ryder said, “Only testimony he’ll be giving now is at his autopsy.”

  Ryder climbed onto his Harley as Bear swung his leg over his own bike. “No need for the old family-style cross-cut two-shot, the bespoke Versace. Too noisy and too messy.” He slipped the key into the lock, and put his thumb over the switch. “People have come back from a bullet right through their brains.” The Harley engine made a crackling growl as Ryder wound the throttle. “No-one’s yet made a miracle recovery from the patent Ryder spinal snap.”

  The Hostage Sister

  Amy Law

  Tiffany huddled and shivered from shock in the thin blanket. Blue and red lights flashed over the dark asphalt and radio noise crackled through the night air. She was distant, disconnected, as if she were watching firm male hands steer someone else to the open door of an ambulance.

  Questions rained down on her but they bounced off and faded away into the blur of noise and movement as her senses began to shut down.

  They poked her mouth with spatulas. Took swabs. Shone lights in her eyes and turned her arms over.

  Felt everywhere.

  All over her body. Again.

  Someone gave instructions. Drips, injections. Measurements.

  “We’re going to get them,” a strong, male voice said. “There’s plenty to go on, Miss. Don’t you worry about a thing now.”

  Them. One of them, she wanted that bastard caught. For what he did, she wanted him behind bars, his skin turning pale and gray while he waited on years of appeals against the death penalty. But the other one… not the other one…

  All the voices, all the sounds of boots on shale, they all receded into the soft, soothing darkness.