Wring: Road Kill MC #5 (12 page)

He slaps me again.

I go down again, hard.

“Stop hitting me,” I growl from all fours on the
ground.

“Then fucking
speak
, bitch.”

I don't cry. I stand.

“I'm Shannon Berg. I'm trying to make a
deal.”

The
jefe
watches me. I know from my
Spanish in high school the name means “boss.”

He waves a palm, telling me to go on.

The crowd of gangbangers is silent. A dozen eyes
that mean me harm watch my every movement.

“Vincent said he'd pay me two hundred fifty
thousand for our house.” I point to the north, wincing as my tongue
runs along my cut lip.

The boss throws his head back, giving a belly
laugh. “Yup. That's right, little cherry. Two hundred K for the
hood, and fifty K for you.”

My heart thumps. “What?” I whisper.

“For your hymen, Shannon,” he says, pronouncing
my name like he's still saying
bitch
. “Your white little
perfection. Lots of men will pay top dollar for an intact
snatch.”

I retreat a step as though slapped. “And if I'm
not?”

He takes back the step I gained and looms over
me. His breath is rank, his gaze is predatory. “Then we all get a
taste of you—now.”

The group tightens around us, and one grabs my
breast. I yelp, though it didn't hurt.

“No!” Vincent roars. “I wanted her. She's
mine!”

The boss chuckles, extracting a gun from the
small of his back, and presses the barrel to Vincent's
forehead.

The blast is deafening.

Men duck, hitting the floor.

Blood slaps my face like a spray of heated rain.
A tiny warm something tumbles down the front of my face. It makes a
splat sound when it lands.

Realizing my eyes are closed, I open them.

Bits of skull have pierced my skin. I see them
like cream shadows underneath my eyes. I hear a sound like mewling
then recognize it as my own voice.

As I turn away from Vincent's blown-away head,
heat drives up from my toenails. I open my mouth to breathe, but it
fills with the taste of metal, and I throw up on top of one of the
gangbangers.

“Bitch!” He rolls away and stands, hands
fisted.

Fingers grab the back of my shirt and hauls me
backward. Another hand pile drives into my hair, cranking my head
back.

The taste of raw bile chokes me. and I cough as
I gaze into the eyes of a man far worse than Vincent.

“You a virgin?” he screams in my face, and the
fine hairs that have come loose from my ponytail lift with the
scourge of his breath. “Because one of my dogs just bit the hand
that feeds him. Nobody tells me what's theirs. What's theirs is
mine
.”

His face hovers above me, wearing a matching
mask of gore.

“Well?” he bellows.

I nod.

His smile becomes a grin. “Good.” He shoves me
away, and I slip on the stuff on the floor.

The stuff that used to be Vincent.

Wring

Sweat runs through my shorn hair, splattering on
my trembling shoulders.

“Two-forty,” Noose says.

I don't completely stiffen my elbows.

Noose cups his hands around the barbell in case
I drop the weights. Never have.

He still spots me anyway, so I don't go
splat
.

Our eyes meet. “One more rep, pussy.” His smile
is crooked but guarded. It's a lot of weight to push.

I've let myself get bulky since I separated from
the Navy. Then, I couldn't afford to be. Needed to be fast, lithe.
Now I'm letting nature take its course. I want to be strong and use
the strength to defend.

We'll always have stealth.

I control my breathing, centering everything I
have, everything I am on the lift.

I let it down without a clink.

Noose lifts his eyebrows in direct challenge,
the prick.

I scowl.

“Whatever it takes,” he hikes a shoulder.

I let the breath ease out of me. My thoughts are
a pinpoint. I lift, huffing out a couple of sharp breathes. Get to
the end.

“One, two, three,” Noose says quietly.

I let the weight down slowly.

No clanking.

“Goddamn. Rock solid.” Noose holds his fist up,
and I tap it between blowing out oxygen.

Spent as fuck.

“You can still do more,” I mention.

“Fuck it. Got an inch on ya and twenty
pounds.”

Noose isn't a cut guy, more Spartan.

I'm a little more cut, leaner. But bench
pressing two-forty thirty times isn't bad. I would love to do
Noose's two-sixty.

We walk over to an empty weight bench, and I sit
on a stool across from it. We lift our bottled waters at the same
time.

“I'd give my left nut for a beer. Fuck water,”
Noose comments dryly.

I raise the water bottle. “Beer doesn't
hydrate.”

“Like I give a fuck?”

I grin. “Probably not.”

“We doing flutters today?” I ask, because it's
easier to concentrate on working my body rather than getting to
what I'm really wanting to know. It's only been one day since Viper
called emergency church and didn't beat me down too bad.

He didn't give a green light, either.

We upend the waters and crush the empties,
tossing them in the trash for Storm to clean up later.

“Nah. Don't feel like being on my back and
abusing the abs.” He leans forward and punches me in the gut. But I
hardened up in anticipation.

“You don't feel like you need flutters.” He
gives me a look, swinging his fingers out, cracking up. Fucker
loves pain.

I shake my head, stifling a grin at his abused
hand. “Just wanted to do a thousand and hand you your ass.”

He gives me a sideways look of disbelief. “A
thousand?”

I nod.

“Impressive.”

I shrug. “The core's everything, brother.”

“God, don't start singing the mantra from
BUDS.”

I smirk, and we sit in companionable silence for
a few extended heartbeats.

Finally, Noose says, “She's a librarian.” He
shrugs.

He got right on shit. Another reason to like
Noose. He's a man of his word.

“I know that. That tidbit's about as worthless
as tits on a nun.”

Noose laughs, holding his ribs. “Nice.”

I fold my arms, cupping my elbows. Everything
hurts after lifting. Joints. Muscles. Mind. Trying to keep my
thoughts off Shannon has become a part-time job.

Not fucking working.

And, I thought I was sleeping bad before? Don't
know why I bother going to bed at all.

“Does she have any hidden kids or anything?”

Noose scowls. “No. Not that there's anything
wrong with kids.”

I grunt. “They shit, eat, and wail. Not always
in that order.”

Noose appears to contemplate my comment then
laughs. “Yeah.”

I swing my palm out. “Tell me the rest.”

He looks between his hands, his finger running
down a printout. “Shannon Berg.” He looks up at me suddenly. “I
feel like a stalker.”

“Whatever the fuck. Spill your guts.”

“Fine, ya foul fucker.” He exhales, flexing his
calloused hand. “Almost twenty-five. You know her physical stats.”
His eyes squint at me, glinting with humor. “Family's had the
little house since 1910, one of the first families in the
valley.”

“Not much left,” I comment mostly to myself.

“Wouldn't be. Dad was killed in a farm accident
working his family's land when she was a baby. Mom's got some
disease. Anyway, scabbed the medical records for the mom—doesn't
have long.”

Ah.

“My guess is Shannon is taking care of her mom,
trying to work a job close to her house. Vincent sees her coming
and going, takes note of that prime little chunk of real estate,
and wants it. Figures he can put the screws to Shannon and get it
for less than market.”

“So she's desperate to stay,” I guess slowly.
Her behavior makes sense with the facts Noose is telling me.

“Sounds right. But”—Noose ducks his head—“you're
not going to like this.”

I grin, baring my teeth like a pleased shark.
“Lay it on me.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I got Shannon's medical records,
too.”

“How did you manage that?”

Noose's dirty-blond eyebrows hike. “Please. I'm
a hacking fool.”

I chuckle. “
Right
. Okay, go on.” I wave
my palm impatiently, dabbing at the sweat from my workout with a
hand towel.

Noose shifts his weight on the bench.

“Spit it the fuck out. What does she have? HIV
or something?”

He shakes his head, light steel-colored eyes
meeting mine. “Worse.”

What?
I scrunch my face. Pressing my
fists against my knees, I lean forward on the stool.

“Virgin.” The word drops out of his mouth like a
bomb.

I abruptly stand, giving him the disbelief he
deserves like a gunshot between the eyes. “No girl is a virgin at
twenty-four.”

Noose chuckles. “You got a point, brother.
Pretty rare. But I'm thinking this is one reason Vincent might want
her.”

I hang my head. I have to want a chick that's a
virgin. That the Bloods want to sell to the highest bidder. Who's
some kind of a Mother Teresa and stays home to take care of her
dying mother.

Of all the complicated fucking women I can go
after…

Noose rolls his shoulders into a shrug. “If
I
can find out this personal stuff about her”—he stabs his
chest with his thumb—“so can the Bloods. It makes sense they'd look
into her.” His eyes are steady on mine. “They want Shannon's
property so they can have a whole block of gang bullshit. Then one
of them notices Shannon…” His voice dips into a valley. His exhale
is tired, and for the first time, I notice the dark circles under
his eyes.

Fuck.
What he's saying makes perfect
sense, but I don't have to like it.

I get out of my head long enough to ask,
“Thought you were sleeping okay?”

He snorts, lighting up a cig, then puffs a ring
into the humid gym air. “Aria wakes up all night to eat.”

I give an almost imperceptible shudder.

“Bum a smoke?”

“Sure,” Noose hits the top of the box, and a cig
pops partway out.

I grab it.

“I'll help you put another nail in your coffin.”
He winks. “Love smoking in the workout room.”

He blows two rings. The smaller fitting within
the larger.

I laugh.

“Vipe would have a shit fit if he saw us
dirtying up the exercise room.”

Noose chuckles. “Yeah.”

We smoke, and I think about Vincent lying in
wait for a vulnerable woman who doesn't have a shred of hope and
has never been with a man.

Purity like that doesn't have a place in this
world. And I had her up against a wall, dry humping her. A pang of
guilt hits me hard. Shannon deserves better than me.

After a couple of minutes, I repeat in quiet
awe, “Virgin.”

“Yup. Know for a fact. Got codes for that shit.
Got a code if a chick's ever had an abortion, too. Med codes. Know
ʼem all.”

I screw my face up into a frown. “That's fucked
up.”

Noose stabs his cig out on the sole of his boot.
“Yeah.”

No one's ever accused us of being normal.

“I don't like you knowing Shannon's a
virgin.”

Noose barks out a laugh, starts coughing, and
howls.

I glare at him.

“I don't give two fucks. I got Rose. These are
the facts. Nobody's had that pussy, and the Bloods are thinking
she's a hot commodity. They kill two birds with one stone. Get the
chick's property that they need. Get a bunch of money for her.
Maybe kill the mom, make it look like the old ticker gave out or
some other bit of fuckery.”

“They're not getting Shannon.”

“Listen, Wring—”

“Don't.”

“Let this go. I know that you feel bad for the
girl, but she's probably not worth it—all things considered.”

His unspoken words are: Club first. Chicks
second.

My chin hikes, and I look him square in the eye.
“What if she is?”

Seconds pound by, turning into a full
minute.

“Fuck,” Noose mutters, then after a protracted
moment, he grins. “Let’s knot up.”

I nod.
Reconnaissance is in order.

Noose grabs my arm as we leave the club. “We
don't do anything unless they're killing her.”

A hot minute of indecision grips us.

“I'm not letting them rape or beat her up,
brother.”

Noose grimaces. “Fuck no, I gotcha.”

“We take Lariat,” I say.

He pulls a face.

“You gotta get over this bullshit from our
tour.”

He walks off. “When the time's right.”

We stride to our rides. “When will you know?” I
ask to his broad back. I hate the bad blood between him and Lariat.
They’ve got to settle that shit. Not good for the club. Hell, it's
not good for them.

“I'll know.”

He hops on his Road King and slams another cig
between his lips, cups the flame, and shoots out a ring. As he
turns on the motor, I text Lariat the deets.

He texts back
:

Affirmative.

Turning my face to the horizon, I pocket my
cell. The color of sunset spills tangerine and pink light across
the treetops that surround the club, making spatter patterns on the
old bunker like battered fruit.

“Lariat on board?” Noose asks over the loud
vibration of his engine.

I nod.

We were a team once. Noose and Lariat might have
unresolved issues, but we'll always be a team.

SEALs in the service, SEALs for life.

*

Noose swings his head in the direction of
Shannon's house as we cruise past.

And we keep cruising past the newer industrial
buildings that flank it. Memories of pinning her against the wall
right outside her front door give me get a hard-on at the worst
time.

We go almost to Noose's place and glide into two
parking spots.