What Might Kill Us

by M. N. Forgy

  “What is that?” Alvaro points at the leather, his eyes as wide as saucers.

  “It’s a long story,” I reply exasperated not really wanting to dive into it with him.

  “You messin’ with that gringo?” Alvaro gets in my face, his hard torso pushing me back. I’m taken aback by the sudden hostility, but I still push back. Gringo. I’ve always hated that word. It means outsider, and my family was big on not associating with anyone who wasn’t Mexican or within the family circle.

  Alvaro grips my chin, making me look at him. Trying to pull from his grip his nails dig into my skin. My nostrils flare, tired of being an object to him. I am not one to do bad things and look the other way. Every time I become exactly what my family wants me to be, I feel regret after. Shame and guilt.

  But here lately, that ill feeling is becoming a reoccurring thing as I am reaching my limit of being a toy.

  “Seeing how much you two seem to be enjoying one’s company, I want you to find out why he’s here,” Alvaro demands, his tone raspy. My eyes snap to his, my heart beating hard.

  “No,” I reply dryly as I finally get out of his grip.

  He chuckles right before he clutches my neck tightly. Blinking slowly, I stall. My fight succumbing to the grace of this fucking snake, knowing I am the prey and he’s the predator.

  “You will,” he breathes heavily. My eyes widen, my breathing becoming violent.

  I already know why they’re here and I’m not telling Alvaro, not unless The Devil’s Dust refuses to help me escape. I need out of here, and if I ever had a chance it’s with them.

  I know it’s risky and it might kill me trying to escape, but if I don’t my morals will become like my soul. Dark and cold, and lost to the reaper who is standing by proud watching a walking ghost.

  “I need to work,” I struggle with the words, his grip on my neck still tight.

  He smirks, finally releasing me from his grip.

  “I’m sure you will please me, Anahi,” Alvaro compliments, patting the dip of my collarbone like a good little pet. I grimace, my teeth clashing into one another. “Sell the drugs and see me at the end of your shift so I can collect,” he instructs, as if we haven’t done this song and dance every night.

  Pushing past him, I grasp my apron and head into the main bar to start my shift. Tears springing in my eyes, the skin on my neck burning from his grasp.

  I need to figure out my next move. Do I put my trust in Bull, or keep doing what I’m doing with Alvaro.

  It’s slow tonight. I usually have lots of people asking me for drugs, but everyone seems to be going to Natalia instead. I purse my lips watching her place a baggy under a cup of water and slide it over to a buyer. The guy nods and lifts the cup, secretly taking the bag with his hand.

  Natalia turns, a smirk on her lips as she stuffs the cash in her cleavage. She steps past me, a snarky look on her face. What gives? I glance around the bar, looking to see if there is anyone wanting my attention. There’s nobody. Alvaro is going to have my head for this.

  After an early night, I call it quits. I’m not selling anything and the bar is dead.

  “I’m heading out Natalia,” I inform, throwing my apron in the sink. She turns, her hands placed behind her.

  “I noticed your new attire,” she points at the vest, her thin lips twisted to the side. “You fucking him?” She tilts her head to the side in question.

  “Um, what business is it of yours?” I clip. Placing my hand on the bar counter, I decide to play her sassy game. The idea that I might be making her jealous, making this shitty night better.

  She laughs mockingly. “I’m just surprised someone of their kind would be up to a Cartel brat’s standards.”

  Anger bubbles to the surface, I decide not to even respond. Alvaro obviously has been talking crap about me to her. If she means by standards I want someone to show me respect, grab my hair in the throes of ecstasy and breathe me in, touching me in every passing because they can’t get enough of me − then maybe I am brat with unrealistic standards.

  Heading toward my room, I find The Devil’s Dust outside Bull’s room sitting around talking and drinking beer. You can tell they are loyal to one another, having each other’s back if something went down in an instant. Crossing my arms, I look at my feet as I continue to walk.

  If I fucked up, Alvaro would throw me to the wolves in a heartbeat. All he cares about is impressing Benito. I almost feel sorry for him. He never had much for a father figure, so when Benito praises him, it means the world to him.

  Steps away from my room, my elbow is grabbed. I jump and turn quickly in surprise.

  “How did you do tonight?” Alvaro questions, his hair is down framing his face menacingly. The moon casting ominous shadows along his face, it brings a sudden chill to my spine.

  I sigh and eye Bull. He’s watching closely. Knowing that oddly brings me comfort. Would he let Alvaro hurt me, or would he step in? The thought has me curious.

  “I um, I didn’t sell anything,” I reply, confused myself that I didn’t sell one bag.

  Alvaro flinches at my words. “You’re joking?” his voice high in disbelief.

  I shake my head. “I’m not.” I feel like a failure for some reason. Why? Why do I care? Is it because this is what my life has become? My daily goal to sell the most drugs.

  He holds his hand out and I narrow my brows unsure of what he wants.

  “Give me them.”

  “Here?” I’m a little shocked he wants me to do this outside, with the Devils feet away.

  “Fucking give them to me!” he demands, his voice loud. Not caring who hears.

  Digging my hand in my back pocket I pull out four baggies. Four? I fish my hand around, looking for the fifth.

  “Where’s the fifth one?” Alvaro asks, what I’m thinking. His tone sharp and cold.

  “I don’t know. It has to be in here somewhere,” I mumble, looking in the other pocket. I usually keep them in my bra, but wearing my shorts with the zipped pockets I thought they were safer in there.

  I stall, my back pocket wasn’t even zipped.

  I look across the distance, remembering Natalia bumping into me so hard I knocked over bottles of beer on the bar top. I was so flustered and embarrassed from the mess I made I didn’t think twice about Natalia bumping into me like she had.

  She fucking took it! That bitch!

  “Natalia stole it,” I explain, my voice cracking with misplaced fear.

  He curls his lips, angry.

  “Fucking give me the money or the gram. Now,” he spits, his nostrils flaring. My heart skips a beat, terror building in my chest. I’ve seen what happens when someone comes up short. I’m going to pay for this through blood and pain. I know Natalia and I don’t see eye to eye, but why would she do this to me?

  “Alvaro, I don’t have it!” My voice rises, panic evident in my tone.

  My head whips to the side, a sudden burn racing across my face from him slapping me.

  A whimper spills from my mouth.

  “You expect me to believe that bullshit? ‘Cause I know you know better than that.” Alvaro grabs my wrist, his death grip making my fingers instantly turn purple and ache.

  Pulling my head upright, I lift my chin. Pushing my fear to the back and pulling that darkness I try to push back forward.

  “I don’t have your fucking shit!” I spit, my tone of voice surprising me. That voice surely not coming from me. I nod, trying to assure myself this is a good thing. I point at him.

  “I’m done, you got me? I’m-” He raises a gun, pointing it right at me. I swallow hard, eyeing the end of the barrel. My sudden brazen fleeing like a little girl who just discovered a monster in her closet. Her sudden courage to open the door and prove to herself that there is no such thing; gone.

  Alvaro glares at me, his eyes crazed and wild. My chest slowly rises, tears slipping past the rim and dripping onto my flushed cheeks.

  “Do it,” I grit. Praying he does pull the trigger.

/>   He squints his eyes, before they widen to saucers.

  “Lower your gun. Now,” Bull demands. His voice makes my knees nearly buckle. My eyes fluttering with unshed tears.

  Risking taking my eyes off Alvaro I graciously look over my shoulder. Bull stands tall with a gun gripped in his hand firmly, his men right behind him armed.

  “This doesn’t concern you, gringo,” Alvaro sneers.

  “A bitch wearing my cut concerns me. Now fucking drop it, or I will blow your skull right off your shoulders,” Bull threatens, his head lowered.

  I’ve never had someone come to my defense; never stand up for me, yet someone I barely know is here, guns ready to blaze. Just for me.

  Alvaro chuckles, not backing down, taking me from my fairytale.

  “You have it hard for my pet, huh biker?” Alvaro tilts his head to the side, stepping forward. The cold barrel of his gun pressing into my temple, my body battles if I should cower or fight.

  “I’m going to tell you how it’s going to go, son. You’re going to walk away and I’m going to take your girl,” Bull explains confidently. My head whips in his direction, despite the metal barrel shoved into my skull. There’s no questioning Bull’s intentions. He did come here for me. Not for what I could possibly do for him.

  “I knew it,” Alvaro seethes. “Why are you here, really?”

  “Anahi, get in my room,” Bull demands gravely.

  “What?” I ask, curious if I heard him right.

  “Don’t you fucking move,” Alvaro threatens me, shoving the barrel of his gun into my head causing me to wince from the force.

  “Drop it,” an unfamiliar voice sounds behind Alvaro. I look out of the corner of my eye and a man stands with long hair, a vest that reads Sin City Outlaws on it. I’ve seen him around, but haven’t spoken to him. Now I know why he was here.

  Alvaro runs his tongue along his teeth, the look of defeat flaring in his eyes. He reluctantly drops his arm, but not the gun, the look in his eyes conveying I will pay for this embarrassment. The dark look that crosses his face causes a nervous sweat to prickle my spine.

  What am I doing?

  The Sin City Outlaw guy lowers his gun. “Get the fuck out of here before I kill your ass. Trust me, I’ll do it purely out of boredom,” the man threatens.

  Alvaro looks at me, his cold eyes slicing into me like a sword as he steps past me.

  He saunters off into the darkness and that’s when the panic really sets in. The realization of what just happened. I wouldn’t lie to anyone, the power that Alvaro has over me scares me to a point, but the way I’m feeling right now suggests I am much more terrified of Alvaro than I would ever let on.

  “What did you do?” I whisper under my breath, clutching my chest. The beat so hard I can’t catch my breath.

  “Easy, now,” Bull soothes, cupping my shoulder. I shrug him off and turn toward him.

  “Do you have any idea what you just did?” I cry out loud, my voice cracking with emotion and my eyes stinging with vulnerability.

  “Saving your ass?” He looks at me with uncertainty.

  I shake my head, my world spinning.

  I shouldn’t have let this happen. I can’t let this happen.

  “You just got me killed,” I mutter, tangling my hands in my hair in distress. Alvaro will grab me the first chance he gets, torturing me for his embarrassment. Keeping me within an inch of death until I’m praying I’d just die, but he won’t let me slip into something so blissful. He’ll let me hang on by a thread, until finally letting up and allowing me to heal and come back to this fucking hell.

  “Anahi?” The word echoes in my head, everything around me beginning to spin. Even if I manage to escape Alvaro, my Uncle Benito will have my fucking head for not only coming up short on his drugs, but because I’m a liability now.

  My face tingles, my lungs screaming for air. I gasp, but nothing is happening. I’m drowning in my own terror and can’t catch my breath.

  Before I can speak another word, darkness paints my vision and I drop to my knees.

  “Fuck!” echoes, the familiar voice of Bull.

  Hands slip underneath my body, lifting me. The smell of leather and cigarettes faintly registering as I fight my way to stay awake.

  “Stay with me, Little Bee,” swirls in my head like a bad melody.

  “Bull? Take me away…” I mumble before I just give in and finally give up.

  Sitting in the threadbare chair in the corner of the room, I stare at the lifeless Mexican girl on my bed.

  She said, “Take me away.” I steeple my hands under my chin, watching her. She was nearly unconscious by then, but those were the words she spoke. She does need help, it’s clear to see. Her hard front purely to protect herself and not The Cartel.

  She moans, the sound going straight to my dick. Not being able to help myself any longer I brush the hair from her face, needing to touch her. Fuck, she’s beautiful.

  If anyone can protect her, it’s me.

  If she’s going to be with any man, that man is going to be me.

  She doesn’t have any say so as far as I’m concerned. That went out the window when she placed herself in my club’s colors.

  “What now, Prez?” Bobby asks, interrupting my thoughts. I almost forgot he was in here.

  “That fuck is going to show back up and any chance of buying drugs are gone now,” Kane starts in next. I forgot he was in here too. I’m too consumed by this girl, her broken world, and what I can do to make it better than to worry about drugs.

  Felix and the Sin City Outlaws can kiss my ass. Felix hasn’t been doing anything but flirting with every female that has come through here anyway.

  “We take the girl and leave in the morning,” I inform. She may not be here on her own free will, but she’s still here and she has information we need. So I will take her with me, and get what information I need back home. Where I can keep her safe.

  “Felix will be pissed if we back out of the deal,” Bobby informs.

  I sigh, knowing he’s right. I don’t need a war right now. I need us to keep the peace like we’ve been doing and we need them as allies if shit ever hits the fan, and me taking Anahi back home will stir some shit.

  “Find the drugs then,” I order, not caring to be a gentleman and pay like I normally would. I’m taking their shit and their girl, just like I said I would when I showed up here.

  Waking up I blink a few times trying to get the room to come into focus. It looks unfamiliar, yet similar. Sitting up I notice I’m not in my room. Holding my head, I glance around, finding leather boots in the corner, an ashtray on the nightstand, an empty whiskey bottle on the table, and a duffle bag with clothes spilling out in a chair.

  That’s when everything from last night strings together and my heart starts to pick up its rhythm in panic. I rub my forehead with the heel of my palm thinking about what Alvaro might be doing right now.

  Standing outside the room waiting for me? Riding back to Mexico to get more men for back up?

  The sound of someone retching from the bathroom grabs my attention from my dire future. Furrowing my brows I swing my feet off the mattress and slowly tip toe toward the bathroom, the sound becoming louder and louder until the sound of a glass shatters on the floor. Grasping the frame of the bathroom door I peek around it, finding Bull sitting on the floor, his back leaning up against the tub. He’s wearing black jersey shorts and no shirt. His hard chest rising and falling rapidly as if he’s out of breath. He looks like he’s right on death’s doorstep. His face is pale and sweaty, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

  Striding into the bathroom, I squat in front of him. His eyes are glossy and bloodshot, not focusing on anything.

  “Bull?” I snap my fingers and he tries to lift his head but it just falls to his chest.

  You’d think he was drunk, but I don’t smell alcohol on him.

  I cup his face, trying to get him to look at me. “Did you take something?” I question, trying to figure out if h
e’s high, drunk, or maybe even going through withdrawals from something.

  He mumbles a string of words, not making any sense.

  His skin is clammy beneath my palms, yet he’s trembling.

  It reminds me of someone who is detoxing from drinking. Working in the bar, we see it all the time. They called it the DT’s. Delirium Tremens to be exact.

  Sitting up I grasp a starched white towel and run some cold water on it. I twist it, letting the excess water drain out, and then sit back down in front of Bull. Slowly I dab his face, his scruffy cheeks, and neck.

  Being this close, and having him practically lethargic, I can really see him. He’s quite handsome. His dark stubble holds little specks of gray here and there. His nose holds a slight crook to it. I bite my lip wanting to touch him. I look at his eyes, finding them shut, so I take the opportunity. Timidly, I run the pad of my finger down it, curious if he got it in a bar fight, or maybe defending the honor of a girlfriend.

  Bull raises his hand in one swift move, grabbing my right hand by the wrist. My eyes cut to his, my heart skipping a beat. I find dull green eyes looking right back at me. His touch resonating directly in between my thighs, my body and mind greedy for more.

  My breath catches in my throat, nervous I was caught touching him intimately and without his permission. The way he looks at me, it’s as if a thick fog I never knew was there is lifted and I’m finally seeing for the first time in a long time.

  The intensity of his stare has trapped me since the day I first laid eyes on him.

  He’s a disarray of handsome chaos, and you can see it all in his emerald eyes.

  I clear my throat, trying to pull from his grip, which is surprisingly strong for a man that looks like death.

  “I woke up in here and heard you,” I explain. “Are you okay?”

  His other hand slides up my right leg slowly and my nipples harden. My flimsy top doing nothing to hide them.

  “I’m fine,” he states, his voice hoarse. He goes to stand, his grip now on my thigh. Taking me up with him, he sets me on my feet.

  Tension arises in the tiny bathroom. I turn and fold the rag on the bathroom sink. I don’t know what to say about last night. I don’t know if I should leave, stay in here, or what.