The Butcher of the Bay: Part II

by J Bree

  Still his hips pound into me, his feet planted into the mattress for leverage.

  He grabs a fistful of my hair at the back of my head, jerking my body forward to meet his bruising kiss, his hips jerking up into me as he comes deep inside me, one hand still pushing my hips down to grind against him as he grunts into my mouth.

  I desperately wish he wasn’t wearing a condom.

  When he comes down from his high, slowly releasing the grip on my hair and softening up as he moves me, brushing his fingertips over the bruises he’s left behind on my soft skin as a silent apology. I don’t need it though. I’m in love with the idea of pressing against them later, feeling a little pain as a reminder of how much this man loves me.

  I want to leave some of those bruises on him too, to leave him marked up as belonging to me.

  He deals with the condom and then pulls me into his chest and strokes back my hair, humming under his breath as I lay there listening to his heart beat. I can hear it, steady and strong, and it’s beating for me just as mine beats for him.

  “I have a job to do today. I’ve been thinking about it all night and I think you should come with me to do it.”

  Oh. That’s new.

  I push up from his chest to look down at him, my hair falling like a curtain over us both. “You would take me on a job? I’d love that, mon Monstre.”

  He rubs his chin a little, the scruff there that he always shaves the moment he gets up like a shadow. “It’s not going to be a blood-soaked job and it’s not going to be anything dangerous. If we’re together I think we’d have a better chance.”

  I don’t know what any of this means but it doesn’t really matter if I do. He’ll protect me, no matter what. “Of course. I can wear those new jeans out… or maybe the dress?”

  He grunts and pulls my face down for another blistering kiss, his teeth tugging on my lips. “Not the dress. I have other plans for it, the jeans are better. No heels though, baby girl, just in case we need to get out of there quickly.”

  Again, I don’t understand it. “Should I bring my gun? Or one of my new knives?”

  He smiles at me and rubs a thumb over my bottom lip, still a little abused from his teeth and the way he fucked my mouth with rawness and utter abandon. “You should always have them on you, baby girl, but I’ll make sure you don’t need to use them. That’s my job.”

  I’ll have to wear a jacket to cover them, the jeans ruling out my thigh holster for the gun. I prefer not to have things around my waist when I paint or cook and when I said this to him mon Monstre had immediately bought me the alternate options. Who knew there were so many places on your body you could hide weapons?

  I’m excited about going out together. Watching him work is a joy and one I don’t get to do so often… not without a concussion or the terror of being kidnapped.

  “You don’t have to come, baby girl. No frowning.”

  I blink at him and concentrate on smoothing out my face. “I didn’t mean to. I was just thinking about your list. I definitely want to come help today.”

  He coaxes my back down onto his chest, his fingers threading through my hair as he plays with the long strands. “Don’t think about it. It’s my list to worry about, your only worries are about painting and finding new recipes to try out. No bread.”

  I giggle. He’s still traumatized from my bread breakdown and I’m not sure he’ll ever get over it. “No more bread. Maybe I should start making cakes and pies. French pastry, if you’d like to try?”

  He smiles and pats his perfect abs, not an ounce of fat on him. “You cook it and I’ll eat it, baby. In-between eating you, that is. Alright, let’s get that perfect ass of yours moving. We’ve got a morgue to rob.”

  We get up and ready quickly, skipping breakfast altogether because mon Monstre promises me coffee and bagels in the car on the way down there. American bagels are delicious, something he brings home to me often, and the fact that he remembers these little things for me is the reason I love him.

  The scowl on his face as he helps me out of the car when we arrive at our destination, and the way he curves his body around mine like a shield as we walk, is another reason.

  I rest my head on his shoulder, pretending to be upset just as he asked, and the solid plane of his chest presses against my ear. The sheer size of him has my knees weak, my heart pounding, and my soul waiting to be devoured whole.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs, directing us into the large building. It’s cold enough that I’m glad he’s holding me, and a startled sort of quiet takes over the room as we make our way over to the front desk.

  There aren't many people here but I can feel their eyes on me keenly so I bury my face even further into mon Monstre’s shoulder and pretend to sob silently, my body trembling delicately. I can’t go too far overboard with it because, even knowing it’s a farce Illi will lose his cool.

  Flip my shit, he’d warned me earlier.

  “Can I help you?” the woman at the desk asks, her voice just a little hesitant.

  Illi moves me in his arms a little so he can pull some papers out of his pocket. “We got a call about identifying a body. It’s my girl’s brother, here’s the photo.”

  I hear them shuffling things around and then the woman speaks again. “I’ll have to call the medical examiner. We’ve already had this person identified, I’m not sure who called you.”

  Mon Monstre shrugs. “We came all the way down here, we’re not leaving until she’s seen him.”

  There’s more shuffling and then I hear the clip-clop sound of her heels on the tiles as she walks away. I keep the shaking up, there are cameras and other witnesses, and Illi ducks his head to murmur in my ear, “Great job, baby girl. Nearly there.”

  “Chantel is right, Mr Fields was identified this morning. Please, follow me. I have some information on grief counseling that you can access if you or your wife need it.”

  I pull away from Illi enough that I can walk beside him a little easier as we follow the man. My eyes are stinging and I swipe at my cheeks as if there are tears to wipe away. I don’t want to disappoint mon Monstre by not giving this charade my all.

  He squeezes my hand gently and warmth fills my chest at the silent praise.

  We’re walked through the long hall, the medical examiner walking calming before us but there’s a twitch to his smile as he ushers us into a room. I keep my face full of sorrow, forcing myself not to look around for cameras though I know we’re being watched.

  Mon Monstre waits until the door closes before speaking, “Disappear. You don’t need to be seeing what we’re after.”

  The medical examiner cringes a little and glances up into the corner of the room. “I can just leave you here, there’s security—”

  “Taken care of. We’ve got time to get it and get out so disappear, Fletcher.”

  He glances up again and then turns to leave, his hands jittery. When the door is closed firmly behind him I murmur, “He doesn’t seem trustworthy.”

  Mon Monstre moves over to the computer by the large desk, sitting down and getting out his phone. “He’s not… not unless you’ve got shit on him and I have a whole lot of shit on the freak. Let just say he and his family enjoy alternate sources of protein.”

  Protein?

  I’m not sure I want to know.

  “Yeah, dipshit, I’m in. What do you need to get into the system or whatever… I don’t fucking know what you call it… I don’t speak perverted, virgin who lives in basements so you’ll have to fucking translate… if you start talking about your dick right now I’ll drive over there and filet your entire fucking body.”

  I hide a smile behind my hand at his words, the phone propped up to his ear by his shoulder as he types away at the computer. There isn’t much else in the room to look over, no filing cabinets or even a wastepaper basket to rummage through.

  Finally mon Monstre pulls the phone away from his ear and switches it to speaker phone. “Tell me when you find the shit.”

 
There’s a cackling laugh down the line and then a voice, younger than I imagined the hacker to be, and very sarcastically says, “You know, for the right price I’d have done this for you without the road trip. How much money is this little vengeance mission costing you, man?”

  My stomach hollows out a little at the thought but mon Monstre doesn’t flinch. “Like I give a fuck about the cost, I’ll never run out of work in the Bay.”

  I need to find a job.

  Or something to help contribute. I’ve been feeling guilty at the extra costs of food and art supplies already but to know he’s having to pay for help to get through his list? No. No, I can’t just let that happen.

  I will never be a burden to this man.

  Mon Monstre glances up and frowns at the look on my face, snarling into the phone and cutting the hacker off, “Watch your fucking mouth, dickhead, or I really will come carve you up.”

  I force a smile and wave a hand at him, murmuring softly, “It’s fine, mon Monstre. I’m happy to watch you work.”

  There’s silence for a moment and then, “Holy shit, is that her there now? Fuck, the accent is hot as fuck. Maybe I need to find me a French girl if they all look and sound like her.”

  I see the shift take place over mon Monstre’s face, from Illi to the Butcher of the Bay. A shiver runs up my spine. It’s like looking a feral beast in the face as it sizes you up, picking the best place to feast on first, but I don’t feel fear.

  I feel worshiped.

  “You will treat her with respect, Coyote.”

  No threat.

  No swearing or calling him names, just those seven words muttered down the line as the Butcher of the Bay stares at me like he wants to tear apart the entire room, pile everything up, and then start a fire so big and out of control the entire city burns with it.

  There’s a pause and then a more subdued hacker says, “I’ve found your files. They’re… more fucked up than our usual brand of psycho.”

  I smile and watch as mon Monstre comes back, a little more calm now his acquaintance has backed off. He’s definitely not a friend. The underlying violence in Illi’s reaction tells me that for sure.

  “There’s a printer in the room, yeah? I’ll have it all printed there for you to take if you read me the codes for it.”

  Illi frowns down at the phone and then glances around. “It’s not in this room. Send it to me and I’ll do it at home, we need to get out of here.”

  The line is quiet for another minute and then Coyote laughs manically. “You have a computer at home and a fucking printer? Well, I’ll be damned. I assumed the big old dusty warehouse barely had running water, this is a revelation.”

  I giggle quietly. Not at his jokes, because they all seem to be at the Butcher’s expense, but at the fact that no one really seems to know mon Monstre.

  No one but le Loup

  She saw through the man he is out on the streets, the one who kills without remorse and takes care of business no matter who he’s facing, and she saw the loyal and brutal man inside.

  I miss her already.

  “Come on, baby girl. We’re done here.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Illi

  I convince Harbin and Roxas to come to the warehouse in my Mustang because their motorbikes are too loud for the work we have for tonight. The Coyote's work on the cameras has cost me a fucking fortune but it's worth it. We know the schedule the Mecedo cartel have been keeping so tonight's job has been planned down to the fucking minute.

  Roxas tells stupid jokes the entire way and Harbin looks ready to throw himself out of the fucking car just to get away from him.

  “How are your kids?”

  Roxas groans and tips his head back against the basket and Harbin pegs him with a look. “They’re good. Going to school again, it’s been months since their mom sent them. Smart kids. Too fucking smart to be growing up in the club.”

  Roxas scoffs. “He’s been making plans to run off with them. He wants to find a quiet, podunk town somewhere and live a white-picket life. Dumbass.”

  I glance over at Harbin but his face is set in stone. Fuck. “Getting them out of the Bay isn’t a terrible idea. Where are you looking?”

  His jaw clenches and finally he says, “Coldstone. Mississippi.”

  That a fucking long way away. I don’t say it but Roxas has no issue poking the damn bear. “Missi-fucking-ssippi. He wants to crawl home on his belly like he couldn’t fucking handle the Bay.”

  I peg him with a look in the mirror because I need both of their heads in tonight but apparently this is a fight they’re both fucking peachy about having in front of me.

  “It’s about my sons, not about me or the club. I don’t give a fuck if the Boar would love nothing more than seeing the back of me. Coldstone is quieter, better for kids. I have cousins in the MC there and seeing King’s son has made me consider it more. He turned out just fucking fine there without a mom around. Name one kid living under the Boar’s roof that hasn’t got a fucking drug problem or been in lock up by the age of sixteen?”

  Roxas shrugs, looking out the window with his special brand of nonchalance. “I grew up in a shitty little podunk town and saw a whole fucking heap of kids overdose. That shit is everywhere, don’t fucking run off and use it as an excuse.”

  Harbin’s jaw sets and I make the decision that right now, in my fucking precious car, is not the right time for this argument.

  If they break any part of my Mustang in their anger I will gut them both, friendship be fucking damned.

  “We gotta keep an eye out in the woods here too, make sure we don’t have the fucking Devil creeping up on our asses.”

  It works like a charm, both of them zipping their shit up tight to focus on the real danger in the conversation and Mississippi ain’t it.

  “The Devil? As in the true fucking psychopath Morningstar? Why the fuck would he be here? I did not sign up for him, man.” Roxas says, leaning forward in his seat to look out of the windshield like that’ll somehow save him from the underworld's greatest boogeyman.

  I shrug like it doesn’t matter when I know for fucking sure it does. “I did some recon up here a while back, saw the bike and thought I had to be fucking dreaming but then, sure as shit, Morningstar walks out of the treeline.

  Harbin curses under his breath, a long stream that ends in what sounds like some holy shit I don’t have any use for.

  I didn’t know he believed in that shit.

  “God ain’t helping you face the Devil, man, even he doesn’t want to go head to head with that psycho. Fuck. Is there any other way we can get Mecedo and his guys? Any other location that doesn’t have the fucking Devil walking around?”

  I shrug. “If there is one, I haven’t found it yet. This place is a sure thing and they’ll be here for a stock take tonight. Morningstar isn’t helping them, he does horror shows and mass murders not running around as a cartel bitch-boy.”

  Harbin grunts under his breath again and shrugs. “There’s a first time for everything. What the fuck would be hanging around in the forest that he’d care about anyway? Maybe he hides his own stash there and now the cartel is on his turf. We could be walking into a whole fucking pile of bullshit we don’t need on our plates.”

  True.

  But Odie is worth it.

  “If you two are backing out lemme know now, I’ll drop you off at the next rest stop.”

  Harbin casts me a look that’s all sorts of insulted and pissed. “Fat chance, asshole. Just because we’re concerned about being identified by our DNA alone for being his next victims doesn’t mean we’re pussies.”

  Roxas chuckles in the backseat, putting both of his hands behind his head as he tips his back back and lounges there like a king. “I’m not afraid to die. Fuck, I’ve lived the life of twelve men in my time, no fucking regrets. Wait, I’ll miss tag-teaming Juliette. Fuck, the titties on that woman… I’ll miss those.”

  Harbin grunts and rubs a hand over his face like he’s in pa
in but the smirk is there. I can’t deal with either of them like this, not at fucking all.

  “I don’t need to hear about her titties, dickhead. Get your head back into the game, I have a cartel to gut.”

  They both snicker at me under their breath like this is some big fucking joke and when I peg Harbin with a look, because he’s the one I expect to be fucking serious right now, he shrugs and says, “Dumb, deaf, blind, or thinking about the best titties on the planet, my head is always in the fucking game. Nothing to fucking worry about, the cartel scum are done.”

  We stash the Mustang in the same place as I did last time, walking the perimeter slowly with our guns already drawn, silencers screwed in and cigarettes in our mouths. They can’t smell them from this far away and although I’ve been thinking about quitting for my girl, I haven’t made the plunge yet.

  A man’s allowed three vices.

  Whiskey, cigarettes, and a good woman.

  Okay, so my motto used to be pussy but I’d never disrespect her like that, she’s more than that perfect, wet pussy between her long legs.

  It’s a fucking great pussy though.

  I need to get my head back into what I’m here to do but, fuck, she’s definitely my vice. My addiction. The one thing I’ll always kill and die for.

  “Stop thinking about her. The dreamy look in your eyes makes me want to fucking hurl,” Roxas murmurs, and I shove him away from myself.

  Harbin shoot us both looks, like we’re rowdy fucking children, and I flip him the bird. Motherfuckers, the both of them.

  When the warehouse comes into view I send a text through to the Coyote, yet another pile of cash being handed over to the cocky little fuck for tonight’s help.

  I’m probably his only client these days and he’s going to retire on my money alone, unless he has some drug problem I don’t know about eating all of this green up.

  He texts back straight away and the alarm goes off immediately. It doesn’t have a sound, nothing that would alarm any motorists down on the highway or any locals, but the front day bursts open straight away and three guys come running out so I know the silent internal alarms are flashing.