Samael shakes hands with Mike who walks off.
“I’m planning to visit my strip clubs,” Samael says.
Right. The business. I try to have a neutral attitude but the deepest parts of my mind always stir in repulsion when Samael is talking about it.
Since we’re a family he doesn’t command us. He asks for help or advice, delivers the money to wash at Sive’s gallery in person, and hires Mike to clean up his small territory when necessary. Well, Mike is not happy with his additional job, but Samael took him out of jail so it’s more a matter of honour for Mike to help him in every way.
We’re living a peaceful life, our small MC bound by the marriage with the local gangster. One big dysfunctional family.
“Sure,” I say. “I can go with you.”
“You need to learn everything, Zane. I have no son.”
“I understand. Just as always, I don’t want any woman. And I don’t drink vodka.”
Kolya chuckles and pats my shoulder.
Samael grins at me like a predator just before devouring his prey. “Love.” He nods several times then his grin fades and his eyes cloud with sadness for a moment.
We walk out of the room and Kolya parts with us. Samael leads me to the garage below the ground floor where he waves his hand towards his SUV.
I shake my head and jut my chin towards my bike.
Samael chuckles then approaches his bike and grabs the helmet. “A race?”
“You’re too rusty, Samael.”
“Dimitri. My family calls me Dimitri.”
The molecules of my body slow down as my eyes fix on his face. He’s not Samael anymore, just a regular guy like Gunner or Blaze. The furrows on his face soften and his dark eyes flicker with a boyish excitement. I wonder how old he is. Forty-five at most I can tell.
“If you lose you’ll drink one shot of vodka with me,” Dimitri says.
“It’s a fair deal. If you lose you’ll stop asking us to wash your fucking money.”
Dimitri grins. “It’s a fair deal.”
We jump on our bikes, start the engines and roar out of the garage. Fuck. My father-in-law is not rusty at all. He shoots forward, taking the lead and squeezes into a narrow gap in the metal gate sliding to the side. I rev up the engine, lean forward and clench my teeth. There is no fucking way I’m going to let him win. The bike and I become as one. I’m a basic instinct, speed and wind. The roar of the engine and the adrenaline in my veins. Nothing more.
As the city emerges in front of my eyes, I realise that I have failed miserably. Dimitri is the best biker I’ve ever seen. We slow down and immerse ourselves into the putrid smell of the suburbs then meander among the blocks of flats to park at the back of his strip club and shake hands. Dimitri slaps me on the back.
“Maybe next time,” he says with amusement.
“Next time I’ll finish you off,” I say as embarrassment floods me. My face is burning.
Dimitri guides me to his office, but someone calls him so we pass the navy ornate door and go to another room. His face turns into an emotionless mask. He’s Samael here. We enter a spacious room decorated with military stuff as somebody’s groans and gulps settle in my ears. My eyes roam over four men encircling another man lying on his side. He has no face, just a bloody mash instead of it.
“What is it?” Samael asks.
“It’s a thief,” one of his men says. His name is Marius.
“How much?” Samael asks.
“Too much,” Marius says. “Eight ounces at least.”
Samael nods, his face cold like that of a ruthless archangel, as another man, Toby, moves closer to the wall and grabs a machete hanging there. I steel myself. My insides twist as Samael holds the machete.
Samael’s men tumble the thief on his knees and Toby gathers his hair, holding his head in place. The thief has received so much of beating that he’s almost unconscious. Very convenient for him. I wince at the smell of his vomit and urine. Sharp pieces of the bones protrude from his arms. He should die as soon as possible for his own good.
I watch Samael as he sweeps his arm, weighing the machete. My breath stops in my throat. Toby’s jaw muscles twitch as he arches his back and closes his eyes. The machete whistles and separates the thief’s head from his neck. Every atom in my body jumps in repulsion and I close my eyes. I’ve seen death in life but each time it causes repulsion to fill me. I guess I’m not like Axel.
Somebody’s hand slaps me on the back.
“Let’s have a drink,” Samael says.
My eyes flick over Toby’s snow-white face. He’s still holding the thief’s head in his hand. Blood is dripping from the uneven edge of the neck. The dark redness is tinted with other body fluids of grey and yellow colours. The odour causes nausea to roll over me.
Samael juts his chin forward and leads me to the bar where a half-naked chick with blonde hair pours us vodka.
I empty the shot glass in one sip as another wave of nausea torments my stomach.
“You have to learn a lot, son,” Samael says.
I nod at him. Maybe he’s right.
I can work in the garage, but I have no fucking idea of how to become someone like Samael. Not to mention that I’m simply not interested in gathering millions on my bank account. I don’t need much in life, just a job I can enjoy, my bike and most of all my wife back by my side.
“You respect the family,” he continues, “but your men must fear you. Otherwise you are no leader.”
“I know.”
“If I don’t rule my little kingdom somebody else will,” Samael says.
“I know.”
“If you are born to a mafia family you’ll either stand in shit with them or they will erase you.”
“I know.”
“It could be worse.”
“It could be worse.”
He nods at me. “Find my daughter and make sure she’s safe.”
“I will find my wife. And she will be safe with me. You have my word.”
We spend two days in the city, inspecting his three strip clubs. After that, Samael takes me to the whorehouse.
We settle ourselves into two red velvet sofas as the owner, a curvy brunette in her thirties, gives orders to her girls.
“As always?” she asks Samael frivolously.
“As always, Jordyn,” he says.
My eyes slide over black wallpaper with a red floral design. The paintings of naked people adorn the walls along with the framed shots of trains. Silver candelabra give the interior a gothic aura.
Jordyn tilts her head towards me, one forearm under her breasts, her elbow propped in the hollow of her palm.
“A cup of coffee for the boy,” Samael says and emits a raspy chuckle.
“Really?” Jordyn looks at me with suspicion. “Maybe he prefers boys.”
I raise my hands in a warding gesture as a wave of heat rushes to my face. “I definitely prefer girls.”
“My girls will take care of you for free, you pretty boy,” Jordyn says and flashes me a smile.
A beautiful ginger sits beside me with a cup of coffee in her hand. She looks my age. A transparent turquoise dress envelops her body like a mist and she resembles a forest nymph or something of fairy tale origins, Sive would know better. The ginger’s perky tits wave with her every movement, sending heat to my dick. I raise my eyes towards Samael whose icy glance flicks back over me as one corner of his mouth crooks up. The ginger strokes my hair, puts the cup on the coffee table then leans towards me, kissing my neck. An electric current spreads across my skin at the sensation of her hot wet lips planting kisses up to my jaw. Her little tongue licks my earlobe and she nibbles on it with her teeth. Fucking hell, it’s really pleasant, a balanced mix of tenderness and provocation, a scorching ray of light, a promise of unconstrained lust.
My groin aches; my hard dick demands to be in a pussy, to fuck that pussy from behind. The ginger straddles my lap and presses her lips against mine, delicately, but that’s what I need—a delicate wom
an taking care of me. A woman who’s happy with who I am, happy to be with me.
The ginger looks at me as though she admires me most in the world. Bitterness fills my chest. I wasn’t enough for own wife. She didn’t even want to give me one week so I could have proved that I could be a good husband to her.
I like women, but I wanted to be a good husband to Brianna.
A tiny hand strokes the bulge in my jeans then slips under my pants, but it doesn’t feel good at all. Fucking hell. My wife’s face flashes through my head like the reminder that I promised something to her.
“I’m married,” I say and take the ginger’s hand off me.
My dick won’t make me break my vows.
The ginger looks at me with curiosity. “I will make it pleasant for you, but it won’t be cheating on your wife.”
“I’m married,” I repeat in a firm voice.
Jordyn sends me a burning glance as though she’s intrigued with me. She moves closer to us and whispers something into the ginger’s ear, her large tits pouring out of her wrap top. I could squeeze them. I could. Jordyn gazes at me like she can read my thoughts then drops into an antique armchair. Amusement paints her face.
The ginger moves behind me and plunges her hands under my t-shirt. Her lips touch the angle of my jaw as her chest rests against my back.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Samael leaving the room with two girls, smirking at me.
“Touch yourself,” the ginger says in a seductive voice. “You really need this, handsome boy.” Her hands move up and down my chest like we’ve been lovers since forever. “No cheating on your wife, just more interesting scenery. If you want my mouth or my pussy though just say a word.”
My glance meets Jordyn’s dark one and a dense cloud of desire fills my veins. The chick behind me rests her palm against my heart area as her other arm crosses over my chest and her hand cups my cheek.
I stop thinking. There is something forbidden and sensual about those two women watching me. I’m a hungry instinct. Pure need. Yearning and anger. Nothing more. I open my trousers, exposing my hard cock and stroke myself. Tension builds inside me rapidly. For a moment, I want to erase all the memories of my wife from my head and enjoy girls like previously when there was no Brianna in my life. I want to shake off all the stress and uncertainty. I want to be myself. The ginger kisses my neck. It’s very pleasant. Tempting as hell.
I like gingers. I like fucking them.
But I like my crazy wife more. I like her so much that vivid images enter my head. It’s Brianna who’s sitting behind me not the whore. Then I see my wife’s face in front of my eyes; her tits are waving whilst she’s riding me. I allow myself to dwell in my fantasy. Brianna’s enjoying my cock, moaning her pleasure, whispering in her raspy melodious voice that she loves me very much.
I’m stroking her tits, twisting her nipples, biting them, impaling her on my cock. I’d fuck her mouth, I’d fuck her pussy, I’d drive my dick into her ass. And she’d enjoy it.
Then I moan my wife’s name and everything inside me explodes.
“You’re an extinct species, pretty boy.” Jordyn’s voice tears through the fog in my head.
“He’s so honourable,” the ginger says with amazement and strokes my head in a motherly gesture. “If you change your mind—“
“This honourable boy wants something to eat,” Jordyn says.
The ginger cleans up the mess from my hands with a piece of her dress then brings me two sandwiches and a bowl with water to wash my hands.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” I say. “You saved my life.”
“You’re so romantic,” the ginger says.
Jordyn and she chat with me about the weather as I eat. It’s nice. They giggle at my jokes and stroke my head like I’m a fucking puppy.
“He’s so sweet,” Jordyn says.
“So sweet,” the ginger sighs and they giggle again.
I’ve been to a whorehouse a few times with Axel. Before he met Sive of course and it was always nice. The whores are sometimes very interesting people to talk to. If you want to listen to them, of course.
It has never been so odd though. I didn’t touch the ginger, but I don’t feel very happy with myself.
I guess I should either find my wife or become a catholic priest and do something good in life.
Samael joins us after fifteen minutes and we leave the whorehouse.
“Are you fucking testing me or what?” I ask sharply.
“I want you to be my heir. I need to know who you are.”
“Man, you are creepy.”
“I like you, Zane. You do what has to be done, but you stay true to yourself. Very rare.”
“Hope you know what you wanted to know.”
“Definitely. My daughter must have been out of her mind.”
“We’d better finish this conversation before we start complimenting each other like two pussies. It’s unhealthy.”
Samael erupts into laughter and turns into Dimitri. He slaps me on the back and we jump on our bikes.
I return to my apartment and pack a small bag. Then Jax visits me unexpectedly. I haven’t seen him for ages and the excitement at this reunion diverts my attention to something other than ruminating on my wife.
***
I pour a shot of vodka into my mouth, the only shot I’m going to have tonight, and wash it down with orange juice. I’m sitting at the kitchen table in Axel’s house and we’re celebrating Jax’s visit. For the third day in a row. Sive must be mad with us.
Jax is a member of the Shadow Wolves MC but doesn’t attend the meetings. Doesn’t lead a life of an outlaw. Doesn’t kill.
He travels a lot instead.
I kind of understand his attitude. I don’t like killing. I only kill when I have to.
Axel told me not to think about it so I don’t think too much. I just don’t sleep very well at night.
Jax killed a man when he was sixteen and he promised to himself not to do that ever again.
A delicate sound diverts my attention and I turn my head. Sive is walking down the stairs whilst her hand’s sliding against the wall. Her pregnant belly is so big that she barely moves.
Axel got drunk with us three days ago and is not drinking now. I’m sipping my beer but I doubt I’m going to finish it. Jax winces in disgust at the smell of alcohol so I don’t think he can manage to empty even one-fourth of the bottle of vodka tonight.
Sive stands beside Axel’s chair, her hand on his shoulder, and my ears fill with a delicate murmur like a stream of water is flowing down from a showerhead.
“Fuck,” Axel says in a sharp voice and rises from his chair in an abrupt motion. “Everything will be fine, baby.” He freezes with his eyes fixed on the pond forming at Sive’s feet.
“What is going on?” Jax mumbles.
“My wife is in labour,” Axel says with a crack in his voice.
Now the three of us freeze as Sive growls with fury.
“Can one of you take me to the hospital?” she signs, but we’re are still and mute like stone statutes. “Men. Useless when you need them the most.”
I have a vague impression that a shrimp would be more intelligent, more decisive than Jax, Axel and me at the moment.
“My wife is in labour,” Axel says to himself as though it’s not about his own wife, but about his neighbour’s wife.
Sive slaps him on the abdomen with the back of her hand and signs to him furiously, “I’m in labour, you moron. Take me to that fucking hospital.”
“Axel,” I growl. “Take your wife to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” he says as though he has just woken up.
“Yeah, hospital is a good idea,” Jax says. “Maybe we could take your wife to the hospital?”
Sive hugs herself and bends slightly forward. A small groan escapes her mouth.
“Axel,” I yell.
My brother’s brain must have evaporated or something. He blinks a few times in a row and stares at Sive like she’s a clow
n in a circus.
“I think you should take her to the hospital,” Jax says like he’s an expert on women in labour.
“Right,” Axel says. “The hospital.” He leans towards Sive and scoops her up in his arms.
She swears at him in sign language as he carries her across the living room. Jax and I follow them. I take my phone out of the pocket and call Ma, but regret it the moment Ma’s squeaky nervous voice hits my ears.
Since this moment, everything is crazy. Ma is crazy and very loud. Axel wants to kill the midwife. Sive wants to kill Axel. Jax and I want to assist Sive during the labour, but my brother throws us out of the room. He doesn’t succeed in throwing out Ma though and I hear her arguing with the midwife.
“Coffee?” Jax asks. “I’ll have one.”
“You don’t drink coffee, you dick. You hate coffee. You wince at the smell of coffee.”
“This is the moment when you should drink coffee.”
“You’re actually right. We should have some coffee.”
Jax goes to the coffee machine and brings two paper cups, handing one to me. He takes a small sip, hisses and retches, tears filling his eyes.
“Drink,” I say.
Jax nods at me and winces.
The club members start to gather around us, first Blaze with Maria, then Gunner and Boulder, Ziggy in his wheelchair right behind them.
Jax hands Gunner his coffee. “Drink.”
Gunner pours the coffee into his throat and thanks Jax.
Ten hours later, we are allowed to see my nephew and that’s one of the happiest moments in my whole fucking life.
I hold this tiny red form in my arms and kiss his little head. Axel tears him away from my embrace.
“He’s little Hawk,” Axel says and encloses him in his arms like the baby is everything to him and he wants to shelter him from all the threat in the world.
“Give me that red worm,” Ziggy says and Axel’s eyes bore through him. “I said something, boy. Give me the worm.”
Axel leans towards Ziggy who glides his palm over the baby’s head. His face lights up, wiping away the aura of meanness around him and his thin dry lips curl into a smile. It’s a snarl in fact because his face wears the signs of the stroke he had.
Brianna (Shadow Wolves MC Book 2) Page 6