That’s where Doris was before she came to my club. I remember Rig talking about that territory charter once. We did some trading, guns I believe, but I never knew Rig was that close with the prez. A throat clearing in the doorway has me looking away from the photo to see Poe glancing around, inspecting the damage with a raised eyebrow. He won’t say shit. He knows his place.
“Better be good,” I say harshly, staring at him with murder on my mind if he doesn’t start talking.
“Cruz followed a trail, they met up with a trucker who dropped off a girl at a bus station downtown. Nix believes it’s Tillie but here's the thing. An employee at the station gave her two tickets, one for New York and another for Los Angeles. Cruz is leaving a trail of bodies in his wake-” Poe keeps talking but my attention is on the wrinkled photo in my hand.
He stops talking as I chuckle, grabbing my stomach until tears roll down my face and into my beard.
“Prez?” Poe asks warily, taking a step out of the room as I turn to grin at him like the cat that ate the canary.
“Get Whiskey, we’re going to visit another charter.” My voice comes out eager, ominous as I stand up with a stumble, and my boots crunch over the pieces of glass on the floor.
You thought you were smarter than me, brother, but how wrong you were.
“Which charter?” Poe asks, eyeing me as he texts Whiskey on his phone.
“Hell’s Devils, Los Angeles.”
You can run but you can’t hide from me.
Tey
“Why are we here again?” Tillie asks, her breath hot against my ear as we walk deeper into the tunnel side by side
“Quiet, sugar butt, or you’ll scare the rats away,” I snicker as she yelps as something skitters across the ground and she grips my bicep, her nails digging in.
“I hate you,” she hisses, but I notice her breathing picking up in short pants and she’s plastered to my side like she wants to crawl into my skin.
I’d allow that, let her carve me up so she can crawl inside. I’d be able to keep her close.
“It’s just a rave, nothing to worry about,” I lie, there's plenty to worry about tonight.
It took days but Logan finally got a response back from Dom. This is our first meeting, the first time coming face to face with the man that looks just like Logan’s mom’s killer. I’ve heard on the streets that Dom is the spitting image of his father, and my gut is telling me that blood will be spilled tonight. I don’t know why I have an obsession with blood, but it always leaves me in a trance where I can’t look away. It excites me.
I think my very first memory of seeing blood was when I was just four years old. It’s also the oldest memory of my birth mom. Her face is always blurry in that one memory but I know it’s her by the sound of her voice that still plays in my head, the sweet scent of vanilla that always seems to make me pause to breathe in deeply. I can’t remember much but I’m pretty positive I was at a carnival that day. Flashing lights, laughter, cotton candy, but what sticks out most is when my mom put a bandaid on my knee after I fell off my bike. Her voice is so clear that I sometimes stop and look around as if she’s right there with me.
“There, there, little bug. It’s only a tiny scratch.” She blew on my scraped knee that dripped with blood, cooling the sting.
“But it hurts.” Tears fall down my cheeks as I stare at the blood pooling out of my skin, looking like it will never stop.
“For now it does, but you know what? It’s going to stop. It’s going to heal, and one day it will be completely gone, like it was never there to begin with.” She places the bandaid right over my cut, covering the blood so I can’t see it any more, as if it was never really there, just like she said.
I think my obsession all started from that moment because whenever I see blood, I don’t want to cover it. I want to see why it’s seeping out of the skin, I want it to never stop. She was right, my mom, it does heal, but only for appearances. Years later you can still feel the pain like it was just yesterday. I want to feel pain everyday, it’s the only reason I know I’m still breathing.
I’m fucked in the head, but then again, who isn’t?
“Hey, you okay?” Tillie asks, her body shivering next to me as her eyes dart around the dark tunnel.
I realize I’ve stopped walking, the guys shadows keep moving ahead as they follow the glow sticks placed on the ground to find the tunnel with the rave. I can hear Tillie gulp loudly and she shivers again.
“Are you afraid of the dark?” I ask seriously, knowing we are all afraid of something.
“Yes, but don’t tell anyone I said that.” She squeezes my arm and squares her shoulders before walking in front of me, her heels clicking on the wet cement.
She sticks out like a sore thumb, even in the dark. She’s the only one wearing white and black while the rest of us are dressed in black from head to toe. The mesh, black, fishnet crop top over her white bra is making my brain run in circles. Anything white would be pretty splashed in red. It’s the same for her spandex, tight white shorts that ride up between her buttcheeks. It’s enough that I can see her asscheeks peaking through each time she takes a step. I’m tempted to kill Logan for picking out this outfit. Did he really have to pick out white clothing that looks incredible and sexy against her smooth caramel skin? The white high heel boots that stop just below her knees are driving me crazy, I keep picturing them wrapped around my waist. I shake my head and jog to catch up to her.
“Why the dark? It’s the perfect place to hide.” I love the dark, knowing I can be there without being seen.
“Bad things happen in dark places. You could be stuck there and never see the light of day again,” she whispers softly and almost bumps into Logan’s back as he pauses at the edge of the tunnel.
