Naked Dirty Love (18 page)

“Actually, we’re not trying for kids right now.” I sipped my dirty martini - it was pure heaven. “It only seems like yesterday I sold my condo and we moved into that huge house in Serenity Village together. Hell, that felt strange…purchasing a piece of property with a man. It’s so…
final
and grown up.”

My best friend laughed as she held up her martini glass in a toast. “Welcome to adulthood. You’ll like it here.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. I meant sometime in the near future, I
do
want children with him. We’re perfectly happy with each other at the moment. I still love exploring every inch of his gorgeous body. I’m not ready for diaper changes, chafed nipples, and two in the morning feedings just yet.”

Gisela and I walked side by side to the playground before we took a seat on a picnic bench.

“It’s not that scary, sweetie. God knows having a baby doesn’t destroy your sex life unless you allow it. At least it shouldn’t with you two. Cillian has been really patient with me and I appreciate it more than he knows. He hasn’t spent any extra time here at the club. He comes home every night and we fall asleep in each other’s arms. I can’t ask for more than that.”

“Do you trust him enough not to ever cheat again?”

Gisela glanced at me with a look I knew meant if anyone else had asked her that question, she’d cut a bitch. “I can only go with my instincts and they tell me my old man loves me more than life itself. He’d take a bullet for me. He loves his children and he would do whatever it took to keep them—to keep
us
—safe. That’s all I can ask from him. Everything else is just drama to feed the gossipmongers and, to be honest, I really don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks about our relationship. As long as
we
know how much we mean to each other, nothing else matters.”

I smirked at my best friend. “You didn’t exactly answer my question.”

“Yeah, I did.” She stared off into the distance while a serious expression settled over her gorgeous features. “I don’t know what the future holds, Kyra. I can’t say anything’s for certain because I’m not a mind reader or a fortune-teller. I honestly hope he’ll remain faithful but he’s been his own person for a long time and people make mistakes. I’m not perfect and I don’t expect him to be. What I’m saying is as long as he’s safe and I never hear about it, I honestly don’t care.”

“Really?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “You can judge me if you like but infidelity has never been a hot button issue with me. Sometimes men need to let off some steam. It doesn’t mean they don’t love the woman they have at home. Hell, shit
happens
. This life isn’t all butterflies, unicorns, and fucking rainbows—I’m old enough to understand that. You, of all people, should be able to comprehend that.

“Sometimes, sex is
just
sex. Nothing more, nothing less. No emotional ties, no commitments—just two human beings getting each other off, and, at the end of the day, it means
nothing
to
either
party involved,” Gisela explained philosophically.

I shook my head, amazed at how logical she could be about an emotional, hot button issue for me. “Sorry, but if another woman fucked Trey, I’d cut a bitch—no ifs, ands, or buts. He wouldn’t be too far behind. I can’t play that game. My emotions won’t allow me to be that…detached… about a man I deeply care about sleeping with another woman. I would definitely cut his dick off—”

“Yeah, I’m extremely partial to Cillian’s cock so I couldn’t actually go through with that,” she mused before sipping her dirty martini. “I stopped threatening him ages ago. He should let his conscience be his guide—not empty ultimatums from me. If he ever
does
fuck around on me, I hope the guilt would eat him alive. It’s not only a betrayal to me but the children we share, and the vows we’ve taken to each other. I refuse to play nursemaid though and follow him around everywhere he goes just to make sure he’ll remain faithful. I can’t do that—it would drive me insane.”

“What are you two talking about?” Trey questioned, startling the shit out of me.

Gisela and I looked at one another before we replied in unison, “Handbags.”

Cillian wrapped his arms around his old lady and kissed her neck. “I wish I could complain how you love to take the credit cards for shoppin’ sprees. That’s kinda hard to do when it’s you who has the Centurion American Express card, not me.”

“Oh, please!” She rolled her eyes in mock-annoyance. “I was grandfathered in, so to speak. My parents
added
me to their account so it’s not like I got one in my own right. I had a lowly platinum card before they surprised me with it for my thirty-first birthday.”

“Hey, you.” Trey grabbed my hand and held it in his own as he wrapped his other arm around my waist. “You don’t look so hot. Is the heat gettin’ to you already?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just a little on edge, that’s all. How did chapel go?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Chapel is chapel. Everything is up in the air right now. We can’t seem to come to any sort of consensus as to what to do about anything at the moment. It’s hard and the wear and tear on the club—our way of life—is startin’ to show, babe. We just gotta keep ourselves sharp and aware of what’s goin’ on around us. More than that, we have to hope for the best but prepare for the worst.”

“Shit, I was afraid you’d say somethin’ like that.” I leaned into him and sighed. “It’s all just so…fucked up. Lacey is determined to drink herself to death
and
kill her baby in the process. Gisela and I can’t go anywhere without security from the club. I
hate
living like this. Why can’t it be simple like on television or in the books? Someone is abducted, there’s a shootout, all the bad guys are taken down in one go and life continues as it always has.”

“Because it’s war, babe.” Trey kissed my temple, his warm lips lingering against my soft skin. “What war only lasted a couple weeks or months? World War I raged on four years, so did the American Civil War. World War II lasted six years and one day—”

“Actually, it only lasted three years for us. We didn’t get involved until December seventh, nineteen-forty-one, when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.”

“Yeah but Hitler’s military forces invaded Poland on September first, nineteen thirty-nine and that’s what prompted Great Britain and France to declare war on the Axis powers. That was the start of the war—not when the States decided to get their hands dirty.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Sometimes I hate being in a relationship with a man who knows as much—if not more—about world events than I do.”

Trey laughed out loud. “What? ’Cause I happen to belong to an outlaw MC, I should be a dumb racist redneck? A bit contradictory since my mother is Creole.”

“Kinda like you being the future VP of an all-white MC?”

“Irish, babe—there
is
a difference. Dizzy’s a lot of things but he’s an equal opportunity offender. He’d talk trash about a group of Italians or Russians as quickly as he would Mexicans. The man is pro-Irish and anti-everything else.”

I turned around to face him and met those gorgeous hazel-green eyes again. “So, Trey Lennon, what does Dizzy think about his favorite son hookin’ up with an All-American girl of Welsh origin with a smattering of Irish and Scottish in her family gene pool?”

“He’s glad you’re not English. ‘At least she’s Celtic,’ he told me.”

“And this comes from a man who dipped his wick in pretty much anything that moved back in the day?”

Trey kissed my lips. “When are you gonna learn pussy has no color? When a man is horny, he’ll take what he can get.”

“And when he’s in love?” I whispered.

“He’ll protect her, regardless the cost.” His fingers caressed my jaw line. “I love you, Kyra. Always have, now that I think about it. Even back in the day…when I shoulda known better. I
loved
Keri—don’t get me wrong—but I’m
in
love with
you
. Only you. You’re the one who’s on the back of my bike, holdin’ me tight. You’re the only woman I wanna ride when I get that urge and I need some sexual healin’. I’m in love with you ’cause you get me, you understand this life, and you love this fuckin’ club as much as I do. You’re my heart, what keeps blood beatin’ through my body. You’re the reason I didn’t give up on life. Without you, baby, I’m nothin’. Not. A. Goddamn. Thing.”

Tears fell from my eyes as I embraced the man I could honestly say I loved with all my heart. “Make me feel less hormonal and girly after a proclamation like that. Will you dance with me?”

Trey stood, grabbed my hand as I set my martini glass on the picnic table, and we walked over to the dance floor. A few couples, including Gisela and Cillian, Miranda and Kink, along with Dizzy and Bronaugh, slow-danced to “Wild Horses.” We joined them eagerly as I wrapped my arms around his neck; he slid his arms around my waist and pulled me in closer to him until our bodies touched.

“I love this version by Alicia Keys and Adam Levine. I’m actually kinda shocked Dizzy doesn’t have the original by the Rolling Stones,” I murmured into his ear.

“Believe me, he does, but Kink, Cillian, and I were put in charge of the music and we decided to change it up a bit. Hell, we even added some Chris Brown with his crazy ass,” Trey explained before kissing the tender spot behind my ear.

“Oh my God. Are you three tryin’ to give your Prez a heart attack? You know what these parties are like. Only classic rock is to be played. It’s a rule…or something.”

“Or somethin,’ my ass,” he muttered into my ear. “They shouldn’t put us in charge then ’cause as much as I love classic rock, I also like contemporary music too. There are some kick ass artists from our generation—everything we make doesn’t suck. Just because we tend to ‘sample’ doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there who are complete and utter visionaries.”

“I agree. I listen to a lot of contemporary music.” I laid my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.

“I know that, babe. We live together, remember?”

“Wild Horses” faded and Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” began to play with a quiet country twang from the guitar.

I pulled back to look into Trey’s eyes and smiled appreciatively. “How did you know this was one of my favorite songs?”

“Because, it’s one of my favorite songs too…of all time.” He kissed my lips softly as the music played with a hauntingly beautiful melody about love and loss. The totality of falling in the merciless claws of love’s death grip; no matter how great love made us feel, love could never love, it only existed simply to
be
. Yet as we danced, I felt like we were the only two people in the world.

The moment, absolutely flawless, and timeless in its poignant lyrics couldn’t have happened at a better time.

Trey held me in his arms and I felt safe, content, and free from harm.

I glanced toward the compound gates and glanced a deep purple, old school Chevy Impala. An early 70s model, it was in mint condition. Laying my head against Trey’s shoulder, I closed my eyes.

I ignored every signal inside me flashing neon lights something was wrong. The dirty martini had started to do its job and all I desired was dance after dance with Trey’s arms wrapped around me.

Sudden and quick, popping sounds from fireworks began to go off in rapid succession. The whole passage of time felt surreal since the display wasn’t set up to go off until after dark.

In hindsight, I should have known our fragile peace wouldn’t last.

The smell drifted in the air first; then I remembered what weapons of mass destruction sounded like. The harsh scent of gunpowder, high powered automatic Uzis, AK-47s, and Steyr AUGs overheating from constant use.

The sounds I heard weren’t fireworks.

They were a hail of bullets.

Chapter Eleven

Trey

T
he moment of truth happened so fast; Trey’s memory failed to recall the actual timeline.

One moment, he danced with the love of his life and the next, the compound was involved in a full-fledged, drive-by shooting.

All of his brothers on the scene herded everyone who could safely be transferred into the clubhouse while those on the dance floor and near the kid’s playground area were too far away. They would certainly risk getting shot if they tried to make a run to safety.

He quickly pulled Kyra to the ground and covered her body with his as two prospects at the gate were shot in cold blood as they tried to seek refuge but the actual compound remained free from infiltration. Not that the bastards were planning to invade; no, they drove three low-riders in a row, each with gunmen holding fully automatic weapons. The heartless pricks sprayed the asphalt, buildings, and everywhere else they could aim with a rain of bullets.

It seemed to go on forever, the sound of Trey’s heartbeat thundering louder in his ears than the gunshots. He zoned out yet at the same time, felt hyper-aware of his surroundings. Shooting and correctly aiming at moving targets or inside a moving vehicle was harder than most people realized. They would do a shit-load of damage to the compound façade but the actual chance they would kill a bunch of people was slim to none.

Once the firing stopped, noise returned with a vengeance. All around him, women and children cried, brothers cursed and those who could, slowly stood up.

He scrambled to stand and quickly helped a shaken Kyra to her feet. She looked frightened, disoriented, and downright shell-shocked. He pushed her disheveled hair out of her face, smudged with dirt from the ground, and palmed her grime-covered cheeks.

“Babe, I need you to go the clubhouse now with Gisela and the rest of the women. This is serious—”

“No, no, no! Goddamn it, no! Miranda, baby, please get up for me. Baby, please open your fuckin’ eyes!”

Trey, Kyra, Cillian, Gisela, Dizzy, and Bronaugh immediately ran to Kink’s side. He hunched on the ground, his arms cradling his wife’s head as a pool of blood spread beneath her like scarlet-black angel wings. Multiple gunshots to her chest and abdomen indicated the chances of her being saved were next to nil.

Trey backed away, the vision of Keri on High Street in Belfast flooding his mind all over again. He recalled the moment they were abducted, black hoods immediately covering their heads. The abandoned warehouse they were driven to and where they were strapped to chairs, their ankles bound, their arms behind their back, secured with duct tape. He faced the woman he loved as the bitch placed the call to his sister, spoke a few choice words, and one of her companions shot Keri in the head, point blank.

His mind blanked and he glanced at Kink. The man wasn’t sobbing but his face was a map of torment, pain, and flushed with emotion. Saliva dripped from his open mouth and snot from his nose; his blue eyes red-rimmed as tears rolled down his face in complete and utter denial, yet sadly resigned to a fate the remorseless Grim Reaper had dealt him with no contrition at all.

The pale, waxy color of death, which quickly stole the brilliance and light from its victim’s body, no matter how vibrant they’d been in life. The limp, unyielding weight of a soulless corpse; the essence of what made them human drifting into infinity or somewhere beyond this violent, cruel world. The victims left behind to mourn and sob over an empty vessel that could never be revived or brought back.

Dozens of sirens pulled Trey out of the hopelessness of the moment as Cricket and Bookie opened the compound gates. Sheriff Rawlins drove the first vehicle while four department vehicles followed his; several ambulances and the fire department trailing them.

Gisela, Kyra, and Bronaugh pulled Kink away from Miranda’s body as the EMTs immediately took over and began to assess the situation. Dizzy walked over to Sheriff Rawlins and spoke to him quietly as Cillian moved to Trey and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“That coulda easily been your old lady or mine, brother. Kink is my best mate—always has been—and I can tell you with a doubt he loved Miranda with all his heart.” He sighed with grudging acceptance. “Now he’s a widower with two little boys who’re gonna be askin’ for their mommy. We gotta nip this shit in the bud right now. Did you get a look at any of the vehicles?”

“Not enough. I need to get a hold of the security tapes before Rawlins confiscates them,” Trey replied, detached. “Come on, let’s go.”

They both walked into the clubhouse and directly to the security room - it had an alarm system installed along with an electronic lock. Trey quickly punched in the code and the two men immediately grabbed the security DVDs before replacing them with fresh ones. He quickly punched in a code on the laptop and turned them on to record.

“Won’t the cops figure out something’s wrong when the evidence isn’t available?” Cillian asked while Trey worked quickly and efficiently.

“No, not really. I reprogramed the system to backdate the last twelve hours but there will be a lot of fuzzy interludes. It’ll just look like the DVDs were defective. The cops aren’t gonna solve this—we are. It’s obvious who was behind this and despite Emilio’s promises to the contrary; he lied to us like it was no big deal. Fuckin’ with the brothers is one thing but this was a
family
event! What if the twins had been outside? They’ve gone too far.” Trey mashed his teeth together in frustration.

They faced each other. “That spic bastard is gonna wish his mother never gave birth to his dumb ass. The Navarro family is going to ground…I honestly don’t care what we have to do to bring them down.”

“Let’s wait until emergency chapel, all right? We’ll get our revenge but let’s be smart about it. The last thing we need is to go in all half-cocked. We need the guys who participated in the drive-by first. They go down and while they’re beggin’ for us to end them, we’ll get the information we need. All right?

Cillian shook his head wordlessly. “Gather everyone—Kink included. I know the man is hurtin’ right now. The best elixir is revenge. Nothin’ else is gonna do. Before the end of the night, none of those punk ass bitches will be breathin’. I want them all fuckin’ dead!”

“Understood.”

Trey quietly gathered the men as all their guests settled into the clubhouse. They all knew the drill. Regardless the tragedy, there would be a self-imposed lockdown that had already began. It wasn’t exactly hard to find the brothers and they slowly trickled in to chapel, Kink being one of the last.

The pain on his face radiated. Dried tears left clean trails in between dirt and grime plastered over his face. He chain-smoked and didn’t talk to anyone. Trey wished he didn’t know how his brother felt, but he did, and that’s why his heart ached for Kink more than he would ever know.

Dizzy slammed the door and took his seat before glaring around the table, his face a mask of anger while stunning crystal blue eyes shined cold and remote.

“This is a terrible fuckin’ day. Me grandchildren had their baptism and now the club is shot up at their party?” He shook his head and controlled his overwhelming rage. “Emilio won’t get away with this. The cartel is over—I will fookin’ bury those brown motherfuckers myself!”

Brendan lit a cigar. “I’ll call Jonesy, Angelo, and Raymond. No doubt they are goin’ to want in on this piece of action.”

“Call every powerful person we know, excluding Dimitri Koslakov,” Dizzy responded. “We can’t afford the heat they’d bring to the club right now. Other than that, I don’t give a damn about how much manpower it takes or how much—in money or favors—it costs the club. If any of those pricks are alive at the end of the day, heads are gonna roll.

“I’ve spoken with the Sheriff and Rawlins has agreed to let us handle it our way as long we keep it quiet. No mistakes, no witnesses. The department will take care of the bodies—Vegas-style. They’ll never be found, ever. And remember, lads, this ain’t about flexin’ muscle, showin’ off, or representin’. It’s about getting those stupid eejits to pay for what they’ve done to our club.”

Sean caressed his beard. “I know we want
Aztecas Infierno
to burn but are we sure this is a solid move or are we merely sending a message? No doubt they’ll send another one and we’ll just keep goin’ around in circles. We can’t risk another casualty.”

Kink glanced up, his eyes red-rimmed and his expression, cold and desolate. “Sean, I didn’t have a personal beef with
AI
. I never liked them and I sure as fuck didn’t trust them, but not because they were Mexican. Both Miranda and my sister have Mexican blood runnin’ through their veins and I don’t love them any less.

“I worship my old lady—loved her with every bone in my motherfuckin’ body. Without her, I wouldn’t have my boys…never would have known what the fuck love was if she hadn’t entered my life. Now I’m wishin’ we never met. Not ’cause I love her any less but ‘cause if she’d never met a thug like me, she wouldn’t be fuckin’
dead
!

“I did that shit—it’s all on me,” he continued in shaky voice. “But those bastards, they pulled the fuckin’ trigger. So, yeah, up until today, they were just some pricks we did business with and I was apathetic about ’em. Now they’ve done this to my family, I won’t rest until every last motherfucker has gone to ground.”

Trey didn’t have anything to add to the discussion; he was too busy thinking about what he was going to do to help. He knew what he had to do. He was good at finding people who didn’t want to be found and even better at acquiring information. There was no way he couldn’t do his part in this war that had dragged out for much too long in a proverbial Mexican standoff, pun intended.

“Don’t worry, brother,” Cillian replied as he looked at Kink. “We’ll have our retribution and Miranda’s death won’t be in vain. If I could do anything to bring her back, God knows I would. Part of this shit is on me, too. Hardy wanted to end him back in November and I was adamant Carlito be allowed to live ’cause he’s my cousin and I didn’t want Emilio to make my old lady a widow. But now...the situation’s different. If I could go back to the night we were at High Lights, I would let Hardy pull the trigger.

“That motherfucker has to go to ground. They spill our blood, we spill theirs—simple as that. They want a
real
motherfuckin’ war—high powered assault rifles, shootouts, dead bodies on the streets—they fuckin’ got one now. We’re gonna go Belfast on their ass, lads. Teach ’em why the English feared us so much when they had to guard our Catholic asses in Northern Ireland. They just fucked with the wrong white boys.”

“Dizzy, time to make the call. You gotta warn Emilio what’s to come…it’s only fair.” Brendan, ever the voice of reason, looked down at the table after his quiet command to their Prez.

Trey glanced at his father as he set the receiver to the side, put the call on speaker, and dialed the number. The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

“Dizzy,” Emilio greeted in a calm voice. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this,
amigo
, but alas, you put the Feds on us. They questioned me and my brother, came into our cribs with search warrants and tore our shit up. That ain’t cool, homes. When you do these types of things,
mano
, make me lose income and look like a fuckin’
cabrón
to my son and the soldiers in my organization, that shit can’t fly. Today was just to prove how much I could hurt you
and
your club, just like you’ve made me suffer.”