Motown Showdown (33 page)

“I cannot look Big Poppa in the eyes with giz on my fatigues!”

“We don’t have time to stop at home,” he reminds me. And we didn’t, the grass fuck set us back a half hour. “Grab a wet nap and wipe it off.”

“Then it’ll just look like I pissed myself.”

“Which is worse?”

“Toss up,” I mumble grabbing the container. “Oh fuck it, they’ll know. One look at me and they’ll know.”

Parking in the street, we hit the steps, but he stops me. “You’re right,” he smiles wide. “They’ll know.”

“Shit,” I say checking myself for evidence.

Just then Dick opens the door and gripes, “You’re late again, and it looks like you did your makeup in the dark. Get in here!” Peter comes to his side takes one look at me and says, “It’s a miracle you aren’t pregnant yet.”

“How’d you know?” I ask stomping my foot. Plucking the twigs from my hair, Gage drops them in front of me, and I giggle, “Oops.”

Kicking our boots off, he grabs my hand to lead me into the kitchen. Dads come in only to usher us out back and the second I clear the step, I hear, “Fucking Camo partnered with the lone wolf. I was gone a few months, woman. Some shit, I just cannot believe.”

“Whisky!” I squeal and leap into his big arms. Spinning me once, twice and holding me tight he leans in for my ears only. “Owe you.”

“Even.”

“You happy?” he asks squeezing.

“What do you think?”

“Never seen anyone happier,” he says but then Gage walked over smiling. “Take that back,” he thumbs at him. “He might be.”

“Whisky,” Gage says extending his hand.

“Fuckface,” he returns but doesn’t take the shake. Nope, he went for the hug.

I’ve kept in touch with Whisky since the showdown. He did not make it a secret that he struggled with his recovery. He’s admitted to setbacks, but he always tried again. While dads let the three of us visit, I looked at the guy who at one point I didn’t think I could trust. The same guy who backed me, took out Michelle Porter’s father, and saved my life in a seriously dark hour. I look at him now and grin knowing I’ve got a good friend, another partner if I need it too.

“Rachel left me,” he says lighting a cigarette.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say patting his knee.

“It is what it is,” he shrugs. “I want to get better, Camo. She don’t. She either had to do it or I would of. I’m good though, got some shit lined up. Good shit to keep me focused.”

“You’ve got my attention.”

“Staying with your handler, he offered me a room.”

“Shut up!” I gasp thinking this
is
some good shit.

“I ain’t kidding,” he smiles and yes, once we got him sorted he’d be visiting the dentist. “He’s got some work for me, nothing too heavy yet. He’s gonna stay on my ass, no more relapses for me.”

“I had no idea.”

“Why would you? It was Fuckface’s idea, but I wanted to tell you myself. Now I’m telling you.”

Looking over at Gage, I ask him, “Your idea?”

“He’s good,” he shrugs. “We could use his talent.” Pulling me onto his lap he asks me, “Are you happy, beauty?”

“What surpasses happy?”

“Euphoric?” he suggests.

“Fuck if I know,” Whisky says taking a hit.

“I…” I start but then choke up. “I didn’t need that to make me this.”

“Huh?” This from Whisky.

“Beauty?”

I knew they didn’t understand so I went with the next best explanation. “You gave me a family.” At this his face softens, and he kisses my nose while Whisky turned his head away and muttered, “Family, fuck.” This I realized was a foreign concept to him. However, I also saw the hope in his eyes and leaning back against Gage’s chest I told him the simple truth.

“You’re my hero, Gadget.”
Always has been
...

So life moved on.

Whisky blended into the fold quickly and easily. Bobo rode his ass hard which, in return, kept him clean. This was also good for my grandpa because it gave him something to do other than watching porn. Dads decreed Sundays as family day and without fail, we all showed up. The lovebirds were having another baby and were even in talks of a puppy. As for me, Gage and I were married quietly with our family in attendance. We decided our vows were to be a reflection of us. I will say our family got it. The minister did not. By the end, he was halfway out the door and crossing himself.

I will never forget his vows to me.

I live for loving you; I will die loving you. The bond we share no man, God or evil can break. I will spend this life protecting you, cherishing you and killing for you. This is my vow to you.

And my vows to Gage were,
I trust you with my life, my body and heart. The bond we share will not be severed in this life or the next. You are my purpose, the one I kill for today, tomorrow and always. This is my vow to you.

At first, neither of us were in a rush to exchange vows. We figured because of the bond we shared nothing could be stronger, certainly not a few words.
We were wrong
. Standing there in front of our family, holding hands and enjoying the moment, we were unprepared when it happened. That moment when the world titled, spun so fast that we held onto each other for support. Holding each other up, I look at him with wide eyes. All around him was his aura. It was so bright and beautiful my knees gave out.

“I won’t let you fall,” he whispers.

“Did you feel that?” I ask wondering if I was crazy.

“I felt it,” he smiles down at me. “I always feel it, beauty. But now I see it too.”

“You do?” I ask breathlessly. “What do you see?”

“
You
.”

Since that day when my world literally righted itself, I took it as a sign to stop hiding. This was a freedom I embraced. I no longer wore a mask of any kind for any reason. Now when you saw me, that was all you saw.
Me
.

Nothing artificial.

Nothing hidden.

In fact, the only time I used the makeup at all was on Pepper. My niece had a knack, and she didn’t know her ABC’s yet. So, I passed the torch on to her, thereby giving her a little something extra of me. Because outside of killing for her, maybe fifteen or so years from now when a boy breaks her heart, which was something to look forward to I would; I had nothing tangible to give her. No jewelry, art or heirlooms. All I could offer was love her and makeup. For whatever reason, this was enough for her.

When I lost my parents, I thought I lost it all.

Had anyone told me that all these years later I would marry the man I loved at first sight, be loved by his dads, have a doctor for a sister-in-law, an ex-con for a brother-in-law, a porn addicted grandpa and a recovering addict/ fellow hitter willingly risking his life for mine… I would have shot you after calling you a liar.

But watching my family from our deck that we shared with the lovebirds, I knew
I didn’t need that to make me this
. I needed
them
to make me this.

The happiest hitter in the game.

It started with loving a lone wolf named Gadget, a man who lived his life needing no one. But it ended with my husband, Gage, who as it turns out, only needed me.

His purpose
.

Keep reading for a sneak peek into Cinn and Monarch in Motown Takedown!

I was named Cinnamon on purpose.

If you want to guarantee your kids hate you when they grow up, give them my name. Unlucky for me, my mother, the nurturer she wasn’t, took off when I was ten leaving me to my father. At thirteen, I was a budding poet who believed in fairy tales. I also loved finding my escape in books. Then one morning I woke up with tits and my neglectful father decided raising me would include fucking me.

That happened once.

Two days later when the bleeding stopped, and I could walk again, I left home preferring the streets to being raped by my own family. Bouncing from shelter to shelter for food and sleep, I spent my days in the library, learning. Everything from etiquette to seduction, home remodeling, and my favorite…crime stories. If it had a cover, I read it.

This lasted about four months.

Walking back to the shelter with my nose in a book, I was suddenly surrounded by men and knew I was about to be violated, again. In my heart, I was a warrior princess, in real life I was a thirteen-year-old girl with no weapons except my lungs which I used to scream my head off. Never in a million years did I think it would work, but it did. Novel forgotten, one minute my clothes were being torn from my body and the next, they were there.

His name was Savage, and he would change my life that night.

He would introduce to me a world that no crime story on paper could ever compare to. I didn’t care that the four men bent on hurting me were slaughtered at my feet; I was too focused on him, and the man actually doing the killing to notice. He was the man in my books. He was a hero, a fighter, a legend. I was too young to comprehend most of what was happening but, not him. I may be a kid, but I knew one thing, the man who killed for me would be mine one day.

Taking my small trembling hand in his, Savage asked me, “Where is home?”

“I don’t have one,” I tell him jutting my chin out, still watching the other guy. “I don’t need one either.”

Surprised by my strength he then asks me, “Are you homeless, Bean?”

“Bean?”

“Like a little sprout,” he smiles and I notice he’s missing a tooth on the bottom. Looking closer, I realize, it’s not missing it’s…silver. “You’re small now but when you grow you’ll be---”

“I’ll be what?” I ask dying to know what I’ll be. Even with dead men at my feet his answer meant everything to me.

“My Achilles’ heel,” he says stroking my cheek which felt nice since I was smacked in that same spot. Making a mental note to find out what that meant, I watch him open the door to his limo and started to panic at the thought of him leaving me. “Would you like to come home with me?” he asks bending down to pick up my book. Handing it to me I snatch it and hold it close. Go home with him? Could I trust him? So far every man in my life has either tried to fuck me, has fucked me or beat my ass. Sensing my reluctance he leans down and whispers in my ear, “I would take care of you, teach you, protect you. I would also kill anyone who tries to harm you, Bean. I’ll build you a library filled with the classics, feed you the finest foods and I promise you, you’ll never want to leave.”

He had me at library. He did omit one thing though, in time I did want to leave only he wouldn’t let me. But Monarch would leave and he’d take my heart with him.

The music that inspired this story:

Peek-a-Boo by Siouxsie & The Banshees

Last Long Song by ZZ Ward

Pistol Grip Pump by Rage Against the Machine

Guts Over Fear by Eminem ft. Sia

Papi Pacy by Twigs

Sex Metal Barbie by In This Moment

Piece of my Heart by Janis Joplin

Fuck ‘em Only We Know by Banks

Got To Be There by The Jackson 5

Let Him Fly by Patty Griffin

Playing with Fire by Chelsea Grin

Poppin’ off by Watch The Duck

Wait by M83

Keep on Loving You by REO Speedwagon

Jealous Again by The Black Crowes

I’ve been loving you too long by Otis Redding

Let Her Go by Passenger

Love and hugs to Connie Thompson, for just
everything
. Thank you to Brenda Wright for your editing skills, humor, and friendship! My TUG girls, Melissa Gill for the cover art, Anja & Jay for the continuous pimping of my stories and my besties Courtney, Venessa, Cora, Nicole, Julie… The chicks that inspire the characters I write about.

To my entire family, I love you hardcore. To every blogger, fan, and critic, just thanks for taking a chance on me. To Detroit Rock City, I don’t even have to say it. You already know!

K.S. Adkins is a full-time everything. When I'm not wifing, mothering or being bossy, I'm reading, writing or shooting. A full-time realtor, lifelong Michigander and all around lover of all things guns and Detroit, I believe in freedom of foul language, gratuitous nudity, tattoos and mosh pits. I've recently taken up drinking wine and feel like I'm really making progress with it. I think my chances at finding a place within the Romance genre is 50/50, but I suck at numbers so what do I know?

My stories are written with heavy dialogue and are Detroit-based. If you don't like heavy dialogue or Detroit, don't read my stories. My characters are typically dark and fairly fucked up so if you want sappy characters without issues, don't read my stories.

I love violence, guns, blood, naughty words, awkward sex, rap, metal, and untraditional people. Every fight scene was tried and tested by me. I have the bruises to prove it too.

I write romance, but my characters are not always romantic. Each is a work in progress. My stories are about strong women and the alphas who try to tame them but never do.

At the end of the day, you may not like my stories, you may also think I suck as an author and that's okay, but I have to tell you, I had the best fucking time writing them and for me, that's what it's all about.