by Tillie Cole
Here, I got no sleep.
Here, I didn’t fit in.
I was fucking done.
Launching into a steady jog, I ran all the way to the compound, knowing that was where I would find my brother. I burst through the door off the yard and beelined toward the clubhouse bar. You ever needed a Hangman? If they weren’t on a run or at church, they were slamming back shots or fucking pussy in the clubhouse.
I opened the door of the bar to see all the brothers sitting around. Their eyes fell on me. “Sorry, darlin’,” Bull said. “No bitches in here unless it’s during the permitted times.”
I swung to face what looked like three hundred pounds of Samoan and cocked my head. “Yeah? Well, lucky for you, big boy, I ain’t no fucking bitch.” I walked close to his folded arms. “Unless you piss me off. In which case I can be the baddest bitch you ever saw.”
Bull’s surprised eyebrows pulled down. He was about to say something when I heard my brother’s usual curt voice shout, “Sia!”
He sat by the fire with Styx. Like I’d told them before, I wasn’t one of their women. I wouldn’t take even one ounce of their shit, even if they sat at the top of the room like dark kings on their fucked-up thrones.
“Get the fuck out, Sia,” Ky said, flicking his hand dismissively. It made me see red, the residue of the anxiety that had sprung up on me like a ghost in the night causing me snap.
I walked to my brother, who had started to take a swig of his beer, and slapped the fucker right upside the head.
You could have heard a pin drop in the bar as it grew graveyard quiet.
Ky turned his head slowly, blue eyes glaring at me. His gaze only grew more furious when Viking piped up from two tables over, “Holy fuck. I think I’m in love. Bitch can slap me anytime she fucking wants!”
I was breathless, panting hard. How dare they fucking treat me this way? Fucking bikers. Motherfucking Hangmen! Ninety-nine percent of the assholes needed their hairy asses kicked. Preferably by some mountain of a woman who would hand their sexist leather-clad asses to them on a plate.
“Get the fuck back to the cabin, Sia. Now. Back to the other bitches, and I’ll speak to you when I’m done with club business.”
I choked on a disbelieving laugh. “Club business? What club business? Drinking at two in the afternoon? Real fucking important stuff happening down here at Hangmen HQ.”
Red burst onto Ky’s cheeks. He slowly rose from his chair, until he was only an inch from my face. “I won’t ask you again. Get the fuck out, obey club rules, and I’ll speak to you later.”
I smirked and stepped closer. “I ain’t gonna be around later, oh holy sacred vice-president master, sir.” Ky’s cheek twitched in anger. “I’m going back home. I’m done here. I want my ranch and my horses.” I gestured around the bar. “I’m not a fucking Hangmen whore or bitch or whatever the fuck other derogatory name you wanna throw my way. I’m a woman. A rancher. And I am out.”
I turned to leave, but Ky took hold of my arm. He shook his head. “You ain’t going anywhere.”
“I am, Ky. And you can’t stop me. I make my own money. I’ve got my own life, and this place doesn’t have any part in it.” I stepped closer, and this time I included Styx’s furious face in my audience. “The old brothers like y’all made sure of that as I grew up. I wasn’t welcome here. When I wanted to come to family days and cookouts, be part of the club, I was told to shut the fuck up and stay hidden like the ‘mistake’ I was. So I sure as fuck don’t belong here now. I’m going home.”
I was walking away when Ky said, “He could be here any day, and you just wanna put yourself in that kind of danger?”
Garcia’s face flashed into my mind, bringing my feet to a halt. I closed my eyes, but just before I did I caught sight of Hush and Cowboy sitting directly opposite me. Yet my lids closed, and suddenly I was there . . .
The stifling Mexican sun beat down on me as I heard the trickle of a water fountain near where I woke. I heard maids rushing around, their fast Spanish too quick for me to understand. And then I felt his finger trace the length of my spine . . . his toned, tall body moving to lie above me . . .
I gasped. A hand took my elbow. I flinched and backed away, turning when whoever held me tightened their grip. When I lifted my eyes, I saw my brother’s blue eyes fade from anger to sorrow . . . then protectiveness. “Sia,” he said, so only he and I could hear. “You’re okay. It’s just me.”
I fought against the building anxiety to breathe. I focused on my brother being close. Even though he was an asshat, he did make me feel safe. Always had, always would.
When I spoke, my voice sounded fractured and desperate. “I need to go, Ky.” I knew the men in the bar must have heard me, but I was too distraught to be quiet. And frankly, I gave zero fucks about that fact. But I hated myself when I felt tears building in my eyes. I never ever wanted these men to view me as weak.
“It’s dangerous,” Ky warned.
“It’s dangerous my being here too.” I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. “If he’s set his eyes on me again, Ky, nothing will stop him.” A chill ran down my spine as I admitted what I knew to be the truth. “The reach he has through the Quintana cartel is too far and too strong. I . . .” I straightened my shoulders. “We always knew this day might come. He was too obsessed with me. His pride would have been too wounded when you came and got me. We made him look foolish in front of his men.”
Ky inched me closer. “Don’t underestimate the Hangmen’s reach, sis. The Quintana cartel is powerful. But so are we.”
“I have to go, Ky,” I urged, imploring him with my eyes to understand. He shook his head like he wanted to argue. But in a flash of what looked like understanding, he stopped and said, “Then you won’t be going alone.”
I wrinkled my brow. “You’ll be needed here, won’t you?”
“Not me.” He looked around the bar. By the eyes looking back at us, I knew they’d all heard the last part of the conversation.
Ky was still searching though his men when Viking stood and said, “VP, I would very much like to put myself forward—”
“NO!” Ky and I shouted at the same time.
Viking shook his head and took his seat, arms crossed over his bulging chest. Ky met AK’s eyes. “AK, you’ll go with her.”
“He has a lady at home, Ky. You can’t do that.”
“She can go too. Her daughter as well.”
AK coughed. “Saffie . . . she wouldn’t cope too well in a new place.”
“I could go with them. Help protect everyone,” a voice said from the bar. Flame’s little brother, Ash. AK narrowed his eyes on the kid, but I shook my head. It wasn’t right to uproot them from their lives. And I didn’t want all those people I barely knew with me.
“I won’t put kids in danger, Ky.” Ky seemed to agree, and he turned his gaze to Smiler. But before he could volunteer another of his men, who would no doubt do as they were told, I scanned the bar myself. It wasn’t intentional, but my eyes drifted back to the two men who had only ever made me feel safe here at the club. A flicker of a smile crossed the mouth of the one who was quickly becoming my favorite blond Cajun. But when I looked at the man with deep caramel skin and the most piercing bright-blue eyes, there was no such reception. A tight mouth and a cold stare were aimed my way. I was surprised by the pain his look caused my heart.
But I didn’t know the rest like I knew them. And before I thought too much on the idea, I said, “Hush and Cowboy.” Ky snapped his head back to me. “If you’re gonna make a brother or two come and protect me until it’s safe, I choose Hush and Cowboy.”
As my voice carried through the bar, Hush and Cowboy spoke at the same time.
“Bon.”
“No.”
Cowboy didn’t look at Hush. Instead he fumed on the spot, eyes tight and his skin flushing red. Hush got to his feet and addressed Ky. “Choose someone else.”
Cowboy shook his head. “We’ll go; whatever you want, VP.” H
ush’s fists clenched at his sides and he shook his head violently.
My heart tore a little more at Hush’s public rejection.
Ky’s eyes narrowed. I thought he would argue. Forbid it. But when he looked back at me, saw my face and desperate eyes, he just sighed. “Fine. They go.” He glanced to Styx, who nodded once in approval. “You can go tomorrow morning, not before. I want to get the place checked over first.” He rubbed his eyes. “Plus Grace and Li will wanna see you before you go. Spend some time with them tonight, yeah?”
“Deal.”
Ky turned to Cowboy and Hush . . . Hush who was sitting again, eyes boring into the tabletop, a venomous expression on his face. “I’m speaking to you two in ten minutes in church. Only you two.” Ky pointed to Styx. “Prez will be there too. We’re gonna have a fucking talk.”
My heart beat fast as Hush still didn’t react to my brother’s harsh order. Cowboy spoke for them both. “Understood, VP.”
“Get back to the cabin, Sia,” Ky said, and I turned on my heel. “Ash, drive her back.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
I was going home tomorrow.
Ash drove me back to Lilah and Ky’s cabin. As we headed down the dirt path, I turned from staring at the vast greenness of the Hangmen-owned woodland and asked the kid, “Why d’you wanna join the Hangmen?”
Seeming startled by my question, Ash looked at me from the corner of his eye. “Because they were the best thing that ever happened to me, ma’am.” A small smile pulled on his lips. “That, and my brother is here.” I could have sworn I saw the kid’s eyes glisten, and he swallowed deep. “They saved me. I get why you don’t like it much around here. But for me, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I felt my chest warm at how fondly he looked upon this place. I might have been that way once, if my poppa hadn’t abandoned me, sending me packing to my aunt’s ranch, way across town, as far as possible from him, all for the sake of this precious club. But then I thought of Styx and Ky, so young at the time, but risking everything to come get me from Mexico . . .
I sighed. “They once saved me too, kid.” I glanced back out the window. I could accept that if it weren’t for the Hangmen I might not be here today. And I knew Ky was right. It was only because of who my brother was that I was saved. The Hangmen were powerful. But my poppa had soured me too much to truly accept this club. I walked a shaky line. I both loved and loathed this place. Like the men it housed, it was both good and evil.
“We would save you again if you needed it,” Ash announced confidently, melting my bruised heart.
When the truck stopped, I stared at my brother’s cabin and the piece of happiness that resided within its four walls. Then, leaning over the console, I pressed a kiss on Ash’s cheek. “Whatever you do, Ash, don’t lose that sweetness you still got within you. Don’t let Hades pollute it with the kind of darkness he can bring.”
He seemed confused at my statement. So I asked, “You got a girl, Ash?”
I didn’t understand why that question had Ash gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. But I added, “Don’t fuck sluts. Wait for a girl you love. A kid like you is worth so much more than the whores that infest this place.” I didn’t wait to hear a response. Didn’t think he’d even give me one. Instead I exited the truck and went into the empty cabin to pack before Lilah returned with Grace.
Suddenly, my anxiety calmed.
I was going home.
*****
“Michelle!” I stumbled around the dark room I had woken up in. I searched for my best friend. My head was thudding. I had never had a migraine before, but I thought maybe I was having one now. “Michelle?” My heart beat an insane rhythm in my chest as I tried to clear the fog from my brain. I fell against the wall and put my hand to my head. I tried to search through the memories of last night. Of what I had seen . . .
Michelle . . .
My eyes snapped open, and I released a strained groan. I slumped down the wall, my ass hitting the floor just as the door opposite me opened. I flinched at the sliver of light that escaped from outside. Cold shivers broke out along my skin even though the room felt like a hotbox, the air thick and stale from the stagnant heat.
“Mi rosa negra,” a deep voice said affectionately as someone walked through the open door and into the room that was my jail.
I pushed the mental cloud far enough from my head to utter one word: “Juan.”
“Si, bella.” Juan—or as his men and everyone in this small village knew him, Garcia—came toward me. He stopped, towering over me, and then lowered down to a crouch. His incredible looks still took my breath away . . . but they soured to an ugly facade when I thought of last night, or whatever night it was when I found out who he was . . . what he wanted from me . . . from my friend.
“You want to sell us,” I whispered, my throat closing on that horrifying truth. “You lured us in, pretended to be our friend, but you were lying . . . You sell women for sex . . . to be slaves.” A sob became trapped in my throat. “Why have you done that to her?” I swallowed. “Will you do that to me too?”
His beautiful brown eyes softened, as though I had said something sentimental and sweet. He lifted his hand and, with a gentleness I didn’t expect from him, pushed back my hair and kissed my forehead. Sighing, he said in English, “I had no choice but to sedate you, bella. You were hysterical at what you saw, and that is never a good look on one of my females, my black roses.” I bristled at being called that. But he kept talking. “I am Juan Garcia, my Elysia. I do not tolerate over-emotional women.” He smiled and ran his finger down my cheek. “Especially from the woman I have decided not to sell, but instead have chosen as my own.”
My lungs ceased breathing at his words.
“Si, bella. You are mine. I have never had a woman as my own before. But I am breaking all of my rules for you.” He kissed me then, his soft lips leaving an invisible stain on my dry mouth. “And you will be happy by my side. The empress to my emperor.” He lifted me off the floor and guided me from the room. Too weak to fight back, I walked into the sun, all the time wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into. And how the hell I was going to get us out . . .
I clutched my chest as I flew upright in bed. I gasped, needing to breathe. Reaching to the table beside me, I shakily opened the drawer and took out my anxiety pills. I swallowed two dry and tried to calm down. The memory of Garcia in my nightmare still clung to me like a rash.
I raked my hands over my arms, slicing at my skin as if I could somehow scratch him from my mind. I closed my eyes, but his beautiful face was there. I opened my eyes and felt his dark brown ones watching me from across the room, like he always did. The light was on. I could only sleep in the light.
I knew the room was empty, but my mind liked to play tricks on me. He was on the chair in the corner of the room, smoking his Cuban cigar, tequila in hand. He stood, his black suit and silver tie as pristine as I had ever seen them, and moved to me on the bed. I was frozen as he sat down beside me and smiled. “Mi rosa negra,” he purred and kissed me. My eyes clenched closed. When I dared open them again, I was alone in the room.
Fleeing from the bed, I snuck out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. I poured a large glass of water and leaned against the counter. Outside, the sky was turning from black to a dusky pink.
Sunrise.
Keeping silent, I stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind me. I walked to the rail and took a deep breath. When the scent of tobacco hit my nostrils, I snapped my head to the left.
“Sia,” Ky said from the porch swing. He was dressed only in jeans, his long blond hair hanging haphazardly over his bare shoulders. He ran his hands through the strands.
“Ky.” I laid my hand over my chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He took a sip of the amber liquor in his glass and stared out into the distance.
I sat beside him on the porch swing, wondering what was wrong. I wrapped the blanket from the back of
the swing over us both; the night chill had made my bare arms break out in goosebumps. Ky didn’t even seem to notice I had covered him too. Following his gaze, watching the first embers of dawn begin to flare, I asked, “What’s going on, Kyler?”
He didn’t react to my question. When I turned to look at his face, I wasn’t sure there was any fight left in him. It scared me more than anything. Because my brother was a foghorn; he was loud and obnoxious. But right now, he appeared broken.
“You couldn’t sleep either?” he asked, his voice graveled and rough.
“No.” I lowered my eyes to my hands on my lap. “Just the usual shit. Dreams of Garcia. Michelle . . . Of that time.”
Ky took a sip of his drink. We sat in silence for minutes. Just when I believed he wouldn’t speak, he whispered, “She’s pregnant.”
I blinked, unsure I had heard him correctly. My head lifted, and I saw what could only be described as raw pain etched onto his bearded face.
“Ky . . .” I whispered. Knowing he needed it, I reached over and took his empty hand in my own. He tensed, but then held on so tightly to my fingers that it hurt.
It took me a moment to pull myself together. “Is this not a good thing?” I checked no one was around. “She had surgery to make this a reality for you both. It’s a miracle, Ky.”
His head dropped, but I caught a small nod of agreement. “It is,” he said softly. “But she’s high risk.” He turned to me, and I almost broke when I saw a tear fall from his eye and track slowly down his cheek. “We always knew she would be if we ever got pregnant, but now it’s here, I just . . .” Ky gazed back into the distance. I squeezed his hand tighter, letting him know I was still there for him.
“Now that it’s here, she has to rest all the time, take it easy, just so she can have this kid . . .” He shook his head. “It makes the thought of . . .” He took a deep breath. “Losing her—” His voice cracked and his head slumped. Hair hid his face, but I knew tears were falling. Tears fell from my eyes too. In all of my days, in all the time I had spent with my brother, I had never seen him like this. He was always strong, rarely cried. Always covered his emotions with jokes or threats.