The thought of someone attempting to break my girl’s heart wanted me to retaliate by breaking their pretty boy faces into a pulp and making them lose a few teeth or five just to get even.
I found her number under contacts and pressed the phone icon. The phone rang twice before she answered it. “This must be fate—I was just about to call you!”
“Ha-ha, very funny. I’m sure I haven’t been on your mind.”
“Not true!” I heard her type something in the background. “Are you sure you don’t care about me using your desktop. Am I gonna find nude photos of you and Sorsha?” She laughed out loud and it genuinely made me smile.
“Nope, never had any of those. I didn’t think she was worth the effort.”
Sierra whistled out loud. “Damn. Remind me never to get on your bad side. Hey, did you know she and Brian Kinder are like ‘officially dating’ since their very hot and heavy trip to the South of France?”
“Yeah, who knows what could happen in less than a week?” I joked offhandedly.
“Don’t do that, Adrien.” She remained quiet and I knew I’d said the wrong thing to the wrong person. My problem wasn’t with Sierra and I should have never aimed the dagger so low. “It makes me feel like what we have isn’t real because we haven’t been together for weeks or even months.”
“No one said there was a handbook on relationships, chérie,” I whispered in her ear in French. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to that salope. You’re nothing like her and that’s why I know what ever this is between us is real. We won’t give it a name just yet but when we do, it’ll be because we’re both ready to move to the next step, all right?”
I could hear her soft sniffling over the phone. “Okay. But I want you to know I’m not crying about our complicated relationship status. I’m crying because I regret not having gone to Nice with you.”
My smile grew. “Is that it? As soon as we get to the hotel, I’ll send you a ticket. You can be here in time for rehearsal.”
“Really? You mean you’re not just sending me one to get in my pants?”
“Pants, skirt, dress—makes no difference to me but no . . . I’m sending it to you because once I left this morning, I realized I wanted you with me too.”
Sierra sniffled again. “Oh, Adrien. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too. Pack some clothes and get ready to rock out in Nice. It’s supposed to be warm the next few days so I expect you half-naked most days if not fully nude for me behind closed doors.”
“Oui, je comprend.” Sierra sighed out loud. “Okay, I’m off to pack and maybe masturbate thinking about your beautiful cock.”
“Arrête s'il-te-plaît! I need to rub one out myself and I have to wait until we get to the hotel.”
“Well just think of my perfect pussy until I get there,” she whispered before the call ended.
I could have punished Sierra—she’d left me with a hard-on that ached for an available hole, and nothing to do with it until I was alone.
Still, I couldn’t help but smirk a bit. I’d see my gorgeous American beauty soon and I’d make sure she was punished for her indiscretion.
My mouth salivated with impatient anticipation.
I COULDN’T BELIEVE I’d gone through with it.
If I hadn’t been such a coward in the first place, I could have been on the tour bus with Adrien, wrapped in his arms.
I couldn’t be completely honest with myself because if I was, I knew the emotions I had for my lover weren’t normal or natural—especially based upon a passionate, short-lived love affair.
There was a part of me that was incredibly selfish and that part of me was in control. I didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought about what we had as long as we were satisfied, and that was the God’s honest truth. It didn’t matter to me that there was a woman out there he would love more than he ever did me because she was dead but I didn’t consider the dearly departed competition. The only person I’d feared regarding his affections was Sorsha and he’d proven more with actions than words she’d meant nothing to him.
My mind wandered with grandiose plans as I listened to another one of Diablo’s CDs he received weeks and months before the albums came out. I’d really fallen in love with Halsey and couldn’t stop listening to the deluxe version of her album. It wouldn’t be released to the general public until late August but Diablo left a note on top of her CD, Badlands, that simply read:
I laughed at the time but he wasn’t too damn wrong.
“Gasoline” played while I grabbed one carry-on Louis Vuitton luggage and grabbed the essentials. A couple of pairs of jeans, several maxi-dresses, maxi skirts, shorts, short sleeved shirts and tank tops, and finished off with an oversized black cashmere open sweater. If I needed shoes or a fancy dress, Adrien would have preferred to pick it out for me anyway.
I hopped into the shower for a quick one just to get the grime off and wash my hair before I dried off, applied lotion in record timing, slipped on a pair of faded short shorts and paired it with a red bra that matched my hipster panties. Over the bra I slipped into a short-sleeved a white and red striped wafer thin t-shirt. To defy Parisian style all together, I slid on a pair of jean-colored cowboy boots that barely came to mid-calf. Not only were they comfortable but I liked the two inch wooden heel and the way they sounded on the cobble streets.
I had no idea where all this courage and confidence had come from but I truly felt like I was walking on a white cotton candy cloud. No one could touch me simply because I was falling deep for a very sexy rock star and he felt the same for me. There was simply no better feeling than love and all its surprising and unexpected experiences.
I didn’t know what to do with my hair so instead of worrying about it, I brushed it out and pulled it into a high ponytail.
Halsey’s “New Americana” was on replay as the doorbell rang. I checked my phone. The limo was early to take me to the Paris Orly Airport but since it was a short flight, perhaps the time had changed. I meant to slip my phone into my jean pocket but since it wouldn’t fit, I tucked it against my ass, between my hipster panties. I would dump it in my luggage before I got to the limo. I did have some class after all.
I swung with the music talking about my millennial generation raised on legal marijuana along with hip hop and alternative music. I should have checked the peephole but the building had more security than most government buildings. I opened one of the double doors—the other one was shoved open at the same time and I would have fallen on my ass if a Germanic looking guy with pale skin, brown hair and the coldest gray-green eyes I’d ever seen hadn’t grabbed me by my arm.
There was another guy who had the same cold eyes only his were blue-green and he wore his blondish hair in a military crew cut. I only began to worry a bit as I saw their patches. They were bikers but that barely bothered me more than the White Knights MC insignia they wore.
Sorsha looked completely out of place except she wore a sleeveless short black leather dress that left little to the imagination. Her pale gray eyes were heavily lined with dark kohl and lots of dark eye shadow accompanied along with lashes so perfect and thick, they had to be fakes probably made of mink.
“Look who’s home, fellas!” she exclaimed with aplomb. “Sierra—that’s your name right?”
“Yes,” I answered in a reluctant whisper, my throat dry as the Sahara desert.
“Thought so. Meet Dieter and Callum. They’re dangerous friends of mine who will snap your head like a breadstick if you make any sudden moves or do anything remotely stupid.”
She murmured to the blond to accompany her in Irish Gaelic downstairs while Dieter did his thing, and forced his way inside.
I couldn’t stop myself from beginning to hyperventilate as he covered my mouth with his heavy hand. The man wasn’t exactly a beanpole; he stood at least over six feet, three inches and his body was a killing machine. Tats decorated his arms all the way down to his knuckles and I could even see some on his neck as well. No whi
te power shit but if he were from Germany or Austria, swastikas were illegal and one could be put in prison for having them tattooed on their skin or merely carrying a flag. They were probably in areas well hidden.
“Who the hell are you?” I managed in a somewhat calm voice as he held a firm grip on my arm. “This is Diablo Bissette’s apartment—you know the lead singer of Breathless Eternity. I’m his . . . girlfriend and I was on my way to Orly Airport to meet him in Nice. You better hope he doesn’t find out about this, or you’ll end up one dead kraut bastard.”
“A kraut bastard fucked your mother in the ass and she loved it—begged for more actually,” he replied in perfect English. “Come along, precious ‘American,’ I’m sure your halb schwarz President will put out some kind of ‘All Points Bulletin’ for you.”
He grabbed my arm again but I pulled back, only slightly. “I’ll go with you but . . . you can’t leave the doors open like this. I don’t know what you plan to do with me but . . . the building will notify Diablo and he’ll go crazy. He has concerts he has to perform. I’d rather he do them and not know what happened to me than think the worse and cancel them.”
Dieter threw me against the wall and I sunk to the floor on my ass. I could only hope I hadn’t damaged my iPhone too much and thanked God I’d put it on buzz. I watched as this thug closed the double doors, locked them and then tossed my keys into the mail slot.
“Happy?” he sneered as he turned around to face me.
“As much as I could be given the circumstances. Why do you even give a shit about me? Is it because of that whore you’re with? She used to date Adrien but they’re no longer together. I know she isn’t doing this because she cares about him.” I shook my head. “This whole set up doesn’t make any goddamn sense.”
Dieter grabbed my arm again and led me down the hall. “Just act normal, and I won’t have to do anything too drastic to make your boyfriend cancel his concerts. Try my patience and it won’t end well—do you understand me?”
I shook my head again, trying to memorize as much as his face as I could. He wasn’t a bad looking guy; if a girl liked brutally handsome men who had that touch of psychotic candor then Dieter would be quite the catch. He acted so calm as we walked through Diablo’s apartment building I knew innately this guy would do everything he promised. This wasn’t just talk—he meant every word especially if he was a member of the White Knights MC.
I knew about the charter they had in Northern Ireland but when had they expanded to mainland Europe?
“Technically, we’re with the Northern Ireland chapter,” Dieter said in a low voice as if he’d read my mind. “But we didn’t want to stay in the UK. So, a bunch of us Dutch, German and Austrian guys set up a place in Rotterdam. It’s perfect. Half the city is a shithole due to immigrants anyway. But the eight square blocks we rule in the ghetto are clean and well run. No Moroccan or Algerian would dare step out of line—not with us around.”
“Is that where you’re taking me?” I looked around, not in an attempt to flee but just to see how many people actually observed what happened around them.
I didn’t hold out much hope when wealthy women and men passed a mismatched couple like Dieter and I without taking a double-look in our direction. Maybe they thought we were nouvelle riche de poubelle, and didn’t think it was worth the effort to say anything as long as we were minding our business.
Other than the leather cut Dieter wore, his clothes were clean. A tight black t-shirt strained against his muscular chest and black jeans that clung to strong thighs and calves. Even his Doc Martens were spit-shined and scuff-free. He’d even worn a pair of standard laces that came with them as to not draw unwanted attention.
It was true, I could see the danger in him but only because all my family wasn’t clean and perfect. My dad had some dodgy characters on his side of the family. They belonged to factions of the Irish Mafia and an Irish biker gang. None of them frightened me—they were my family for God’s sake—but I didn’t know how much attention they could sway on this side of the ocean.
We reached a black van idling on the street. Sorsha and the blond were in front. Dieter slid open the back door and tossed me inside before following me and closing the door behind us.
“Comfy?” Sorsha turned toward me before she smiled though any mirth was sorely lacking.
I leaned against the side of the van. “I’m fine.”
“Good. Dieter, why don’t you give her a nice cocktail? No wine, beer or liquor on this ride but we can still make you comfortable.”
“No drugs.” I shook my head in anger. “I’ve cooperated and I’ll continue to cooperate but I don’t want anything in my system that’ll make me groggy.”
She glared at me in a cold and completely detached way. “Either you do a cocktail or Dieter holds a loaded nine-millimeter under your chin the whole way. His arm and hand might get tired, and the roads are bumpy. It’s your choice, Sierra.”
“How did you know my name?”
“Don’t worry about where I get my info—worry about your pathetic little life.” Sorsha lit up a joint and shared it back and forth with her companion.
I had to be smart about this but there was no way I wouldn’t be knocked out for part of this trip and that’s when my wits would have to come to my aid.
First of all, no one knew I was missing.
Second of all, unless I managed to get word to Diablo, I was in deep shit.
Third, with that crazy bitch, Sorsha, around—how could I be so sure she didn’t mean to do me any harm?
It was hard to believe that she and Diablo had spent two years plus together with the mean streak that could be obviously witnessed in those fascinating pale gray eyes. The woman was a predator simply, and a natural born sadist. She enjoyed inflicting pain on others much more than she let on but her mask had slipped and I now knew what her true face looked like. There was nothing about her that was warm, caring or even remotely appealing.
Unless one found sociopaths attractive.
There was absolutely nothing that displayed an ounce of empathy, understanding or sympathy for her fellow human being. People were only as good as far as they were furthering her agenda. After that, they were cumbersome and merely disposable.
Dieter prepared a shot, tied a rubber tube around my upper arm and didn’t even have to slap a vein before they all rose in their bluish-green glory.
“Goddamn, to have perfect, untouched veins like that. I’m a doctor and a former intravenous drug user. I’ll slide the needle in so well, there won’t be a permanent mark.” He licked the needle with his tongue and found a perfect vein flowing through my forearm. The shit he was putting in my arm was clear but it didn’t make any difference if it was heroin.
Dieter inserted the needle and I barely felt it pierce my skin but once my blood joined with the clear fluid, he pulled back on the needle to make sure there weren’t any air holes before he plunged it all back into my vein.
The feeling hit me immediately. At first, I felt slightly nauseous before the whole world became so peaceful and beautiful. I leaned against his hard chest as he slipped the rubber tube from my arm and prepared one for himself. Before I knew it, we were both cuddled up in the back, his arms around my lower back as I used his chest as a pillow.
There was nothing sexual about it. We were both so far gone in the land of dreams, just the touch of another body against us felt like heaven while our bodies created its own unique experiences.
Underneath the calmness still was a deep fear that I would never see my lover again. Or something would happen to me and there’d be absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.
I could only pray to God that there was some way I could get Diablo a signal—some kind of message so he knew I was in peril. I didn’t trust Sorsha as far as I could throw her, and I needed to desperately act before she decided I wasn’t worth the time or energy to torture. That scared me more than anything, even the drugs coursing through my veins.
A HARSH SL
AP brought me back to consciousness.
My head felt like someone had hit me with a brick several times and my mouth tasted like a couple of rats had pissed in it. I slowly sat up and managed to pull my bearings together before I realized what was going on.
Sorsha looked bored as she sat in front of me in a plain wooden chair. “Look what I found. Were you trying to hide this so you could send lover boy a message about what I’m doing to you? Didn’t figure you much as a weakling, Sierra. I mean, you did manage to stand up to Damien, and the guy hates your guts.”
I wasn’t bound to any furniture though I was at a disadvantage on a dirty mattress with no shoes on my feet and half dressed in a bra and my jean shorts. What happened to my t-shirt and panties was beyond me.
“I know how Damien feels about me. We’ve come to a pretty good agreement—we just avoid each other.” I looked down at my appearance and sighed out loud. “I can’t send Adrien a message but you can. I am begging you . . . Sorsha . . . I know it’s stupid but I don’t want him to be worried about me. I can take care of myself, and all he should be concerned about is having a couple of great concerts in Nice. Not about me . . . not when he doesn’t know how he feels about me.”
She stood and laughed out loud as she shook her head. “I know you Yanks aren’t the brightest bulbs in the shed but my God—how fuckin’ daft can you be?”
The heroin wasn’t helping with my thinking. I scratched the spot where it was inserted. I realized it might have already been a day or maybe longer. I didn’t know how long I’d been out.
“Please! Can you send him a text? If it’s not the day you abducted me then they have practice and their first concert is tonight.”
Sorsha looked at my iPhone and twirled it around in her hand. “You sure are worried about a man you don’t have any feelings about. I mean, didn’t you guys just meet—what the last night of their concert at Stade de France? And he had the nerve to criticize me about moving fast with Brian Kinder. Fucking cunt.”
Sympathy For Diablo (Breathless Eternity #1) Page 13