Angels and Demons

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Angels and Demons Page 21

by A. C. Bextor


  “Holy water and fucking hellfire,” he hisses, anxiously pulling my hips to his. He continues to drive in, maneuvering where he wants me to go.

  “Elevent,” I call, reveling in his ferocity.

  “Better fuckin’ hear you, Angel,” he threatens.

  Crying out, I grasp the rails as I feel his rhythm start to break.

  “Better fuckin’ hear you, baby,” he demands again, sliding one hand around my neck.

  “Elevent,” I breathe out, bracing for release. “James,” I call again, this time his given name lost on a whisper as my orgasm starts to tear through me.

  “Fuck!” he growls, grasping the skin of my hip. His body slams into mine. Once, twice, three times before he’s spent.

  As I’m given a moment to rest, my eyes open to the yard below.

  Something is wrong. Very wrong.

  Elevent takes in what I do. He pulls out, drops my dress, and snatches my panties from the floor and tosses them over.

  The shadows of bodies start to scurry. Confused, afraid, and lost voices murmur in the distance.

  Tyrant stands front and center of the thinning crowd. And he isn’t standing alone.

  He’s with Cricket.

  Frame-by-frame, a reel of terror plays in slow motion.

  When my boot-clad foot hits the dirt, a gunshot rings out in the distance. A cry of alarm breaks through the crowd. Both men and women not wearing cuts peel off to all sides, leaving members of both Saints and Peril standing amass in the center.

  “What the fuck!” Leglas’ bark comes first, coupled with a woman’s shriek of utter rage.

  My heart trips as I pound the ground, closing the distance to the scene. Once there, my stomach sickens at what’s already been done.

  Sunny sits, ass to ground, holding Lane’s head in her lap. Her body rocks back and forth as a slur of whispers tear from her lips. She’s in the throes of hysteria.

  Lane’s eyes are open, her lids blinking slowly. Her breathing is shallow, as more blood pools at Sunny’s feet.

  “Stay with me, honey,” Sunny directs. “Please, Lane. Stay with me.”

  Sty’s on bended knee next to Sunny, his expression ominous.

  “Get Gypsy,” he calls, looking up from his crouched position. “Get him now!”

  Gypsy doesn’t come. He’s up front. With his hands held up in front of him, he makes his way toward the center of a circle, surrounding Tyrant.

  And Cricket.

  Tyrant’s forearm is locked around her throat, his dirty hand digging into her shoulder. With his hostage fearing for her life, Tyrant positions the gun at her temple.

  “Put it the fuck down,” Leglas orders. “Swear to Christ, I’m gonna tear you limb from limb.” He’s standing at Gypsy’s side, both men seething and ready to fight.

  Gypsy places one hand on Leglas’ chest in an effort to calm. This does no good.

  “Fuck you,” Tyrant spits, moving his frantic eyes to waver through the thinning crowd. The gun in his hand smokes in Cricket’s ear before he adjusts the aim from her temple to her jaw. When she closes her eyes, tears roll in tandem down her face.

  “Son,” Pyke calls, making one step toward him with his arms lifted in surrender. “Do as Leglas tells you. This ain’t gonna end the way you want, but you do as he says and it’ll end with you alive.”

  “Fuck you,” Tyrant spits again, aiming the gun at Pyke. “Fuck you and this fucking, fucking club!”

  Advay strides in from the shadows, taking one step in at Tyrant’s back. The blade of his knife reflects in the fire’s glow. The other brothers take notice and start to close in from the front, one careful step then another, surrounding the lunatic at every turn.

  He’s trapped like a rat.

  Cricket’s eyes open. With her vision likely blurred, she’s taking in what’s around her. So far, she’s stayed calm. I nod my head in assurance and she gives me a small turn of her lips. Not a smile, but a sign of relief.

  “You’re gonna send me back,” Tyrant claims. “I know you are. I heard them laughin’ about it.”

  “No one’s sendin’ you anywhere,” Pyke gently coaxes. “Now, put the gun down and let the girl go,” he adds evenly.

  “I can’t go back there!” he shrieks his panic. “They’ll fuckin’ kill me.”

  “If you want, you can keep the gun, but you gotta let her go,” Pyke negotiates further.

  Taking a step in my direction, Tyrant aims the gun at my chest. He’s still a good fifteen feet away, but with his warning, I lift my arms as Pyke had before.

  “You fuckers think you’re so fuckin’ smart,” Tyrant hisses. “Do you know what they did to me?”

  Advay takes in another step from behind, gaining ground toward Tyrant. All eyes are trained to me, my men knowing Advay’s play and giving him time, without distraction, to make it.

  “I see what they did to you,” I confirm. “Also know you went through hell with Arrows. You’re here now and you’re safe,” I lie. “They’re not gonna get to you again.”

  “Toby did this!” Tyrant claims. “He wouldn’t have known Steel Toe, but you fucked up. You all fucked up. They’re together and they’re evil.”

  “You’re safe,” I reiterate.

  “Toby’s with Steel. They have a plan. Steel showed Toby what he needed to do. The two of ‘em are comin’ for payback!”

  “Tyrant,” I call.

  “Why?” he roars and Cricket’s body jolts. “Why can’t you people ever leave well enough alone?”

  “You’re safe,” I tell him again. “You need to relax.”

  He doesn’t relax. Out of control, he hisses, “You can’t keep me safe! Bynes knows, he don’t care. They’re comin’ for you.”

  “Tyrant,” I try again. “Put the gun down, let Cricket go, get on your knees, and don’t say another word.”

  He doesn’t do this either. Instead, he adjusts his aim, holding his trigger hand steady and taking a new target.

  “None of these bitches are worth it,” he eerily whispers. “Bynes, he swears by pussy. Says it’s the way to money. Rapin’ it, beatin’ it, sellin’ it. He’s as crazy as the others.”

  Rape. Physical abuse. Sexual trafficking. That’s truly what Bynes is up to. Son of a bitch, my gut during that meet was right.

  Fuck.

  “I’ll kill him my damned self,” Pyke clips, using deliberate steps to my side.

  Pyke’s disposition has changed. He’s never been one to threaten another. Fuck, he rarely raises his voice. Hearing this, his tone formidable, I realize he’s lost all reason.

  He’s also clutching a small handgun he hadn’t had before.

  “Shut the fuck up, old man,” Tyrant punishes.

  Pyke continues, pressing forward with a murderous expression. “Fuck him, Elevent. I’ll gut him like the fuckin’ pig he is.”

  “What the fuck?” I clip, keeping my eyes to Tyrant, whose gun is back to Cricket’s temple. “Pyke, stand down!”

  “Pussy bastard,” Pyke name calls. “That’s all he is. Hell, he’s only shootin’ at the women.”

  “Pyke, for fuck sake,” I growl. “Step back.”

  Calmly, coolly, Pyke lifts the gun, closing one eye for target. “Gonna put him down now.”

  “Don’t!” I hear Angel cry. “Wait!

  As if in slow motion, a series of events unfold. Second by second, frame-by-frame, they change our lives forever.

  Tyrant readies his aim, doing as Pyke did to ensure his target. Ziah tears through the crowd, running to Pyke as fast as his feet will carry him. With one heavy hand to his chest, Pyke shoves the boy aside, sending him flying through the air. Pyke steps in front of where I stand, with Mia at my side.

  As if time stands still, nothing I can do to move it forward, I can only roar Pyke’s name.

  My ears pierce with sound of another shot fired.

  At this, the blast shakes the very ground, the very core, we all stand on.

  Vicious echoes of flesh meeting flesh snake a
cross my skin. Being brutally battered, a human head bounces off the hard dirt ground again and again. The agonizing groans of a protector beating his charge to death spears my chest.

  Not far in the distance, Leglas’ body towers over Tyrant’s. Fire dances shadows against Leglas’ face. His hair is falling in long strands out of the knot at the top. Shimmering bits of fresh blood are dropping from his forehead, neck, and chest. Leglas runs his sullied hands over his face, then his head. Vicious punches follow, but now to a motionless target.

  Lane’s eyes are open, staring up into the night sky as if in thought. Her arms lay across the dirt at either side, her legs crossing at the ankle. There’s no sign she saw the bullet coming. As though she was talking one minute and shot dead the next.

  Gypsy is standing, towering over Lane’s body, her head still settled in Sunny’s lap. His head is hanging low, his hands bracing on his hips. Blood covers the skin of his arm.

  The proof is there. He tried to help her. I’m sure of it.

  “She’s gone,” he confirms quietly, motioning to Sty. “Shot to the chest. She wouldn’t have made it anyway.”

  Sty, crouched at Sunny’s side, reaches out, pulls her to him and holds her tight. He rocks back and forth, kissing the crown of her head and whispering as she clenches his arms so tight her nails dig in. His eyes are filled with unshed tears, taking her pain as if his own.

  Cricket sits ass to ground, alone near the fire. Her hands are fisted in her hair, her body hiccupping in ravenous grief.

  I can’t move.

  “Pyke-Pyke-Pyke!” Ziah chants, his terror in tone pierces my chest.

  With one hand circling the small boy’s chest, the other wraps around his waist, Avday pins Ziah against his large frame. When he stops for needed breath, Advay lifts him from the ground and carries him away like a cradled child.

  “Pyke’s gone too,” Gypsy tells the crowd, kneeling at his side, testing his neck for a pulse. “Fuck, but he’s gone.”

  “He can’t be gone!” Ziah exclaims from a distance. “Bring him back!”

  Vante wraps his arm around my shoulder, bringing me to his side and chest. With the human touch too much to bear, I do the same to him, allowing a heart-rendering sob free from my chest.

  “Get them out of here,” I hear Elevent order, but he’s not looking at me. His focus is on Sunny and Cricket.

  And Lane.

  And Pyke.

  “Mia, let Vante get you inside,” Max says, coming to my side. “Cops’ll show. They’ll sort this out.”

  “Pyke,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. My body trembles and I don’t break my eyes away.

  Leglas grunts again, my eyes trailing the sound. Tyrant lays as lifeless as the others, face bloodied, limbs beaten into the cold earth at odd angles.

  “Leglas!” Elevent roars and everything goes still. “Enough,” he barks. “He’s done.”

  Leglas turns to Elevent, his eyes crazed with insanity. He looks to the sky, fists his chest, and roars. Loud. Long. Wild.

  I jump at the heinous call of Leglas damning Tyrant to a life in hell.

  “Mia,” Max calls again. “Let’s go.”

  As Vante turns my body toward Max to move, my gaze locks with Elevent’s. Anger and bitter rage passes his features. I wait, a small part of me hoping for comfort. Not for me, but for him. Even standing among the chaos, knowing it won’t happen, I wish for him to be at peace.

  But that’s not what I find as he takes in where I stand.

  Absolute and utter hate is all that he has left.

  Pyke is gone.

  Lane is gone.

  The world of many has been shattered.

  Nothing since being here has ever been made so clear. I’m not one of them. I’m not a piece of their lives as these two were.

  My grief and worry for this family is for naught. In reality, this family isn’t mine.

  And neither is Elevent.

  I love you.

  I said those words for the first time. And I meant each from the bottom of my soul.

  Elevent didn’t say them back. He hasn’t said anything—at all.

  Before the door to his room was fully opened, he’d been calling for me—screaming my name as if it were haunted. He found me already in his bed before midnight. My head was pounding from countless jags of crying, and my heart was shattered by what I’d endured earlier this evening.

  I hadn’t left until the mourners came to the club. I knew some of the faces, but not many.

  Pyke’s life was long and must’ve had a lot of reach. All his acquaintances left behind were the stench of smoke, leftover food, and quiet apologies of their passing.

  Gypsy was right to insist no funeral or flowers, no sad goodbyes for either. Rather than the members crying and carrying on, everyone stood around laughing, talking, and telling stories about them.

  Everyone except Elevent. Because Elevent wasn’t there.

  I wanted to ask Cricket where he’d gone, but didn’t. During the last few days, he’s made himself scarce. And he hasn’t been to his room at night. I know because I’ve waited. He feels responsible for what happened, as if he himself was the lunatic who pulled the trigger. Not to rush him, forcing him to let his guilt go, I’ve given him space.

  Tyrant survived Leglas’ beating. Vante said the punishment from Leglas would take months for Tyrant to recover, adding that he may never be able to see clearly again. Which doesn’t matter. He could’ve died, and I wouldn’t have shed a single tear for his loss.

  Tonight, my first peaceful sleep, in the four days since Pyke and Lane were killed, was interrupted by angry hands and alcohol-fueled desire.

  There’s been no playful banter. No testing of patience or teasing kisses. No grasps of ownership.

  Elevent’s touch has been off—only described as clinical. His body is working inside mine, over and over. I’m holding him close. Touching him, waiting for him to respond. In essence he’s here, with me in this bed.

  But his mind is somewhere else.

  Why did I say I love you?

  “I can’t do this,” he tells me, his hips stilling in place. With him inside, stretching me full and not yet spent, Elevent’s words pour over us like cold water, the tone ice.

  “What can’t you do?” I subject, releasing my hands from his back.

  His body tenses and he struggles to focus.

  Agitated, he goes on, “Mia, I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore.”

  Mia. Not Angel.

  A bead of silence passes, a dark sense of loneliness following in its wake. My eyes sting and my nose begins to burn.

  “I have to deal with this shit here,” he tells me. “And I can’t afford a distraction.”

  At this, my body jerks.

  “Distraction?” I clarify, my voice eerily even.

  “Ziah, the club, shit needs taken care of.”

  And I’m the distraction.

  Elevent’s eyes search mine. For the answers he’s yet to ask the questions to, maybe. Perhaps he’s gauging my response, waiting for a volatile reaction. I don’t know.

  “Myra and Veni were here tonight,” he explains matter-of-fact.

  “Myra was here?”

  “They came to…”

  When his words trail, I push, “They came to what?”

  “To pay their respects.”

  I don’t understand how a visit from Myra and Veni could have caused this.

  “Veni brought word from Zalesky,” he says. “You’re free to go.”

  “Elevent, that doesn’t mean…”

  I’ve thought about what would happen if Vlad’s family business were handled. Before I fell in love with this place, and all its people, I’d have packed my things and never looked back. Not even for Ziah.

  But growing as I have with them, relating to their lives in a way I thought I never would, I have no desire to ever go.

  “You’re going home, Mia.”

  “I’m not,” I return. “I’m not leaving you. Espe
cially not like this.”

  Elevent shakes his head. His voice dead as he returns, “What we had was fun, but it’s over.”

  Fun.

  “You don’t mean that,” I whisper.

  “If you stay, you won’t be in my bed. I can’t have any—”

  “Distractions?” I repeat, and his jaw clenches in the moon’s light.

  Oh, God.

  I’ve had this all wrong. In so many fucking ways.

  To those here, I was a job. A well paid job, but that’s all I’ve ever been.

  “Get off me,” I whisper, horrified and humiliated.

  “Mia…”

  “Get out of me,” I hiss.

  “Would you fuckin’ settle?”

  “Elevent,” I prompt, my voice calm but my insides shattering. “Let me go.”

  “Christ, Mia,” he roars. “Look at your fuckin’ face!”

  Turning my head to the side, I return, “I don’t care.”

  “You were knocked flat on your ass by someone here,” he points out. “Care to talk about what could’ve happened to you when you and the girls were shoppin’?”

  “I hate you,” I voice.

  “It’ll always be a risk,” he asserts. “Every fuckin’ day you’ll look over your shoulder for something or another.”

  “Let me go.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t see this shit for what it is,” he strangles out.

  “Fuck you.”

  Sighing, resigned not to listen, he says again, “You’re going home.”

  I was home.

  “Your family is waitin’.”

  Like I had been for you.

  Tears of humiliation and hurt make their way to my eyes, my vision blurring with their reminder. My body shifts, detaching as best I can.

  Pleading, fearing I’ll lose my voice to emotion, take in a ragged breath.

  “You filled my head with thoughts of you,” I tell him, reaching back to that room we were in from the start, saying exactly what he said to me. “You gave me the promise of you, and I believed in it.”

  A flare of hurt mixed with betrayal drifts between us.

 

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