Unrequited (Fallen Aces MC #1) (16 page)

I just don’t get it.

I block out the chatter behind me as I watch the gardener run the last lines on the far side of the lawn. I want to believe that the ache in my heart is because I foolishly agreed to go on a date with this man and steer myself down a dangerous road. I want to believe the disappointment weighing heavy on my chest is from my inability to walk away, from my naïve assumption that I could ever use a man with this much power and influence for my own benefit. But it’s not. The sense of regret that creeps into my bones is for one reason only: in doing this I’ve given up King.

I’ve signed away my chance at a real life with a man who loves me.

NINETEEN

King

two months later

Dropping my spent cigarette to the dirt beneath me, I stand before what I can only describe as a gothic monstrosity. The enormous stone house sits on a steep hill, completely surrounded by an eight-foot fence topped with barbed wire.

“These fuckers sure know how to blend in,” I say sarcastically, pressing my face to a gap between the edge of the solid steel gate and the framing it’s hinged on. I can’t see much, but still, it’s exactly what I’d expect, what with the vibe this place gives off from the road. Overgrown trees, seeding green lawns, and a wide stone-chip driveway that leads up to the even wider steps of the house—all dotted with weeds.

The estate would have been grand once, but like most properties in these parts it’s been forgotten and neglected. Given over to the wrong hands, no doubt.

“What the fuck are we doing here again?” I ask, stepping back to look across at Apex.

He fidgets with his beard, glancing back at where our bikes are parked. We walked the last few yards to the buzzer, conscious that if we needed to backtrack in a hurry we’d have a greater chance of doing that on foot. Ever tried to turn a bike around in a hurry? Yeah, it ain’t as quick as you’d think.

“This guy wanted proof before he put in for an order with Carlos.” His eyes drop to the baggie he’s holding in the palm of his right hand. “And we have it.” Apex scowls at the buzzer as he pockets the bag, and slams the heel of his hand against it again. “Can’t tell me this fucker doesn’t know we’re out here.”

I take a step back as the steel gates start their painstakingly slow arc. “I don’t feel right about this.” We’ve hauled ass here to deliver a fucking baggie of coke. We’re glorified fucking couriers. It’s a waste of our time and an insult.

“Since when does your moral ass ever feel right about this kind of shit?” Apex says, stepping forward through the gap before I can respond.

We better be getting paid well for this.

The steel of the gate rattles and clangs to a stop, fully open behind us, as we make our way up the long and grandiose driveway. A crow caws from its perch on the guttering of the house, adding to the eerie feel of the place. The buckles of my boots chime with each step I take toward a situation I have no control over.

That thought alone sets me on edge. I wouldn’t say I’m a control freak, but when I have no clear plan of attack, the exits are unknown, and the location itself is completely new to me, I feel compromised. I like to be well-informed. Until four hours ago, I had no idea we’d even be doing this. A shit start to what’s shaping up to be an even shittier day.

Apex clears his throat as we reach the steps to the house and hesitates. His shoulders heave as he draws in a heavy breath. He’s as unsure about all of this as I am.
Great
.

“Sooner we get this started, sooner we can go home and have a fuckin’ beer,” I remind him, passing his spot as I take the first step. “One down, two to go.”

This is officially the first of the three runs Carlos wanted out of us. Nobody realized he’d drag the deal out over such a long period of time. After that box we delivered with the heads, I thought we’d be on to each run quick-smart—bang, bang, bang. No such luck. Here we are standing outside job number one, and all I can think about is how much I wish I could fast forward to when this bullshit’s done so ties are cut and I can go after Elena without screwing up the contract.

What if she marries the fucker soon? We never discussed if there was a date; I was too engrossed in making the most of the time I had to ruin it with those kind of details.
Doesn’t bear thinking about.

Apex joins me at the top step and smacks a closed fist against one of the giant timber doors. I chuckle and point out the doorbell to the right, encased in an ornate brass design. Apex grins—or at least his version of one—and shrugs.

The door opens and I have to refrain from laughing out loud at the juxtaposition we’re faced with. Massive mansion in an expensive location with ornately laid out gardens, and we’re greeted by some fucking homie in a pair of baggy sweats and an over-sized T-shirt.

“
Gringos!
” He throws one arm wide in greeting, lifting the other hand to pinch the joint between his lips. Holding the smoke in his lungs, he thumbs for us to go inside.

Apex leads the way as we follow this kid past sparsely furnished rooms covered with litter to a room that’s literally missing both the doors. I soon see why. Cutting lines on one of them, which is now a table propped with blocks, is the guy I’m pretty sure we’re here to meet. He inhales a line and then pats the slut to his left’s ass, gesturing for her to have a go. “You must be Apex, no?”

Prez lifts his chin in response. “Hugo?”

The guy gets out from behind the ‘table’, extending to his full height. He’s tall and wiry, but appears strong. Hooking his thumbs in his low-slung jeans, he hoists them up his ass and wanders across to where we are. Apex watches the guy with clear disgust as Hugo rubs his nose with the back of his hand, and then offers the same hand to Apex to shake.

It hangs in the air for a few laden seconds before Hugo gets the picture and drops it to his side. “You have any trouble finding us then?”

“Big place for just the three of you,” Apex says, feeling out if we’re up for any more trouble.

“Eh, it’s a drop-off point, nothing special.” Hugo jams his hands in the pockets of his pants and rocks back on his heels. “Don’t even know who owns the place—we just use it when we need.” He cracks up at his comment, and then frowns at Prez. ”Got what I asked for?”

“Got what we were given to pass on to you.” Apex holds out the baggie between two fingers. “As to whether it’s what you asked for, I wouldn’t fuckin’ know.”

Eyes on the prize, Hugo snatches it up and marches around to the business side of his makeshift desk. He pushes the woman in the tiny shorts out of the way and clears a space. Apex and I watch on as he opens the package with the utmost care.

Within seconds it’s gone, chasing the hit he’d only just taken.

The slutty woman crosses the room to where the homie who answered the door is leaned against the window frame, his hand clenching a pistol lying suggestively in his lap.
Like he’d have a chance
. He looks green enough to shit himself if anybody actually pointed a weapon his way.

“Yeah, man.” Hugo nods. “That’s good shit.” He taps the heel of his hand on the table twice. “Tell him we have a deal. I want five bricks, uncut.”

Apex nods and turns heel to leave when Hugo grabs his attention with a question.

“You know where he keeps his product?”

“No.” Apex turns back to the guy who’s higher than a fucking kite by now. “I don’t.”

“Ahh.” Hugo points a finger at each of us in turn, his legs bouncing madly. “You find that out, and we might have another deal to discuss.”

“Might we?” Apex steps forward, a frown setting his brow in a firm line. “We’re not stealing product.”

“Who said
you
were going to steal it?” The guy smirks and gestures for the girl to come back his way. “I just need you to find out where he houses his coke, right?”

“Still not doing it,” I growl. This jumped up asshole is starting to get on my last nerve.

Hugo acts surprised at my addition to the conversation, and jerks his chin at me while addressing Apex. “Hey,
esé.
You always let your boys do the talking?”

“You let yours think for himself, or does he enjoy gettin’ around pretendin’ he’s a half-assed version of you?” Apex nods in the direction of the young guy at the window.

“Hey.” Hugo lifts both hands. “Let’s keep this civil, no?”

“Then don’t disrespect my man.” Apex places his palms on the makeshift desk and leans in close. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ livin’ in some God damn la-la-land to think we’d turncoat and give a low-life like you information on Carlos’s distribution. You think you’d stand a chance takin’ what’s his? You think Carlos is gonna let you just fuckin’ walk in and take his shit without rainin’ hell down on your pathetic life?”

The slut, drug whore, or whatever the fuck she is, goes about her business like there’s nothing brewing. Her long, talon-tipped fingers run down Hugo’s jaw before he pushes her off.

“No harm, man. No harm in asking.” Hugo rounds the table and walks up to me, reeking of sweat. “You just get me those five bricks, and we’re all good.” He slaps a clammy hand to my shoulder.

I shrug him off. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me. Understood?”

Hugo looks to Apex and jerks his thumb toward me. “He’s getting out of hand again,
esé
. You need to control your dog.”

“We done here?” Apex asks, jaw ticking as he rolls his shoulders.

“Eh, we’re done.” Hugo waves a dismissive hand and struts back to his table.

I hold my ground to keep watch on these shady fucks as Apex leaves the room. I don’t trust either of the wannabe gang bangers. Backing toward the door, I wait until I’m out of sight before I give them my back, my hand resting on the handle of my Glock.

Apex waits at the base of the steps, scuffing stones under his boot when I emerge from the house. “Cheeky fucks, aren’t they?” His lips quirk up, the closest thing I’ll ever get to a smile. He pulls his phone from his pocket.

I keep eyes on the place while Apex flicks through the cell and brings it to his ear. “Yeah, they enjoyed the biscuits.” He goes quiet for a moment, grunting at the response he’s getting from Carlos. “No. They wanted more. Asked us where the bakery was.” More nods and grunts “Sure thing.” He ends the call and tips his head toward the house. “Job’s not done after all. Turns out we get the final word.”

“Take it he didn’t appreciate their lame attempt at coercing us into working for both sides?”

“Not particularly.” Apex pulls his pistol and checks the safety. “Can’t believe the cocky fucks thought we’d be that easy to manipulate.”

“I’m sure if they had something hangin’ over our head like Carlos does, they would have had a better chance at playin’ us like a puppet.”

I’m met with silence.
Oops.

“What’s the plan?”

He says nothing, staring at me before he silently turns away and heads up the steps.

“We takin’ one each?” I’m yet to kill a man, and going into this situation blind has me peaking in the wrong kind of way.

Still, Apex ignores me and keeps on walking. He pushes the door open and checks all exits before he continues towards the room we were in minutes before.

His silence puts me more on edge than that green homie inside did. A quiet Apex is a volatile Apex. Not the guy whose anger you want to be on the receiving end of.

First week as a hangaround at the Fallen Aces, I learnt why the brothers gave Apex his road name. Twig pulled me aside and asked me how I handle hot-tempered people. I cocked an eyebrow at him and asked what the fuck he was on about.

Apparently the week before, Apex had fallen off the precipice and put two bullets in the knees of a prospect who’d ridden into neighboring territory without a pass from an officer.

Story goes, his anger is like a mountain—it builds up and up until you reach the peak, and then there’s no way to go but down. The man spends weeks, months even, reaching the pinnacle, and then all hell breaks loose. Apparently the giveaway that he’s at the apex is the silence he’s currently bestowing on me.

The trashed woman who was snorting blow with Hugo comes through the open doorway as we turn the final corner. Her shoulder connects with Apex, who keeps on walking, despite the fact she’s just tumbled on her ass in a pile of track-marked flesh and heels.

Hugo’s sidekick falls first, red spraying from the back of his head as his neck whips and his eyes roll to white.

“Fuck, man!” Hugo leaps back, knocking the door-table from the bricks that held it up, and scrambles for the far corner where a single door connects this room to the next.

Apex thumbs the hammer, lining him up. But he doesn’t kill the man. He drops him to the floor with a carefully placed shot to the thigh.

The man will bleed out in minutes, given where he’s been hit. He’s fucked either way.

“All yours, King.”

I look across at Apex as he steps aside and pulls his pack of smokes out. Hugo writhes on the floor, howling with pain. A scrape sounds behind me, and I glance back to find the hooker, slut, whatever she is, trying to run. The crack of Apex’s gun echoes about the room once more, and she falls into a heap in the hallway.

Bet she wished they’d left the doors hanging.

Hugo whimpers, eyes wide. Pretty sure he’s under no illusion what’s next for him.

“Shut him up would you?” Apex gestures to the guy with the barrel of his pistol before he lets it hang from his ring finger by the trigger guard to light his cigarette.

So this is how it’s going to be? I’ve often wondered when the day would come, when I’d be made to prove how serious I am about my loyalty to the brothers and the club. I guess killing a man is one of those things you can never truly predict.

There were a thousand scenarios that ran through my mind when it came to how my first kill would play out, each as viable as the next. It could have come about any way. But here it is.