Psycho Reign: The Psycho Trilogy - A Dark MC Romance, page 10
The fucking Irish.
Well, they’ve been begging for war. I guess they’ve got it now.
The sound of my name being called has me snapping around and searching her out. Gone is the woman I knew less than twenty minutes ago. Gone are the bright smiles and positive eyes. In their place is the shell of who Vanessa used to be. The woman I see now, standing at the top of the stairs with Mackenzie holding her by the waist as she struggles to stay upright, is already just half alive. And I know all too well where her other half has gone.
“Griffin loves…” Knowing she can no longer use the present, she pauses, takes a fortifying breath that hitches into a small sob, then tries again. “Griffin loved you like his own son. You find the son of a bitch who did this and you put a bullet through his head. Do you understand me?” I nod, not sure my voice could work well enough to be heard all the way across the road.
But I whisper it and make sure she can see my mouth move.
“I promise.”
The Sons and the Reapers all spread out in a straight, horizontal line as we walk from our compound to the edge of the property. As we anticipated, we didn’t find anything on our side, it’s just not possible for anyone to come to this side without setting off our alarms.
“The fence is easy enough to climb over, let’s go see what’s there.” Bear is already jogging to the neighbor’s property, avoiding a trigger line probably set up by Python back in the day.
We’re about five hundred yards from where our bonfire was roaring and the tree line to the neighbor’s property is another three hundred yards. Hoops is right, no fucking way this was amateur. Those motherfuckers brought in a professional.
“Hey, Boss, we’ve got a problem.” A few yards beside me, Flower is on the phone and I’m guessing she’s calling Marco Mancini to let him know a close ally has just been murdered by a common enemy. “Yeah, I know. Nah, we’re good, but Marco should know we may have casualties.” As she says this, her gaze darts over to me so quickly I almost miss it. Except I’m staring at her and not even pretending I’m not listening in on her conversation. “Got it. Yeah, Glitch’s van is full. Sure will, Boss. Tell Shoo we miss his little face!”
She doesn’t even wait for an answer and just hangs up the phone like she’s scared of the repercussions.
“Who was that?” Polite walked out the door when my Prez was executed.
“The Shadow.” Ah, yes. I’ve heard of the Shadow. The only female capo in existence and leader of the Reapers up in New York.
“Badass.” Every person I’ve ever met has said this. She’s about to answer when I spot something glistening in the moonlight right at the end of the clearing that leads to the small forest. “Don’t move.”
“Yeah, we’re not gonna do that, okay?” I turn to her, annoyed, because I want my attention solely on whatever it is that’s caught my sight.
“Do what, exactly?” When I face her once more, there’s no doubt I’m scowling. Sometimes I think I have Resting Dickhead Face.
“The whole”—she waves her fingers around my face then body and back to my face like she’s encompassing my whole body—“me man, you woman. Let me protect you bullshit.”
I grin, which she definitely does not like.
“Hey, suit yourself, FloFlo, but you were about to step on a boobie trap.” At my words, Flower freezes, looking around her feet, trying to find the culprit. Then she takes her phone out and turns the flashlight on.
“I can’t see it.”
Shaking my head, I keep walking and throw my answer over my shoulder. “That’s ‘cause I just saved your ass.”
Behind me, Flower grunts. I’m about to give her shit when I hear Bear call out, “Found something!”
Careful not to blow ourselves up, we gather around Bear and look down at the small patch of grass at our feet.
Lying there, like a fucking staged theatre set, is a piece of paper with a rifle casing lying dramatically on top.
“It’s a point three o’ eight. American made.” Hoops, our military know it all, looks up at me and frowns. “I was right. This was ex-military.”
Something catches my eye so I crouch down and pick up the paper.
Chapter Sixteen
Mackenzie
“Please don’t leave me, baby!” Vanessa has her arms gripped around Prez’s torso as she lies beside him, almost as if they’re just having a lazy morning in bed and she’s snuggled against him.
It’s fucking heartbreaking.
Her screams, her cries, her pleas for him to come back to her…
If this is anything close to what Aleko went through when I “died,” then I have a hell of a lot more making up to do with that man. It just hammers home that the decisions I made were selfish as fuck. I need to do better.
The ambulance arrived twenty minutes ago, and they’ve been waiting patiently to take him away after confirming he’s dead. It’s a shame Spence isn’t working tonight, with Aleko and a whole lotta Sons out searching for the shooter, I could do with the comfort. Mom and Sabrina are still up in the sound-proofed room with Ninja and Bandit, and everyone still out here is seething with barely controlled rage.
However, now is not the time to have my own pity party because this isn’t about me. This time, Vanessa is at the heart of this tragedy. The love of her life is gone. Just like that. No warning. No time for goodbye. Just gone.
I slowly approach Vanessa from behind and wrap my arms around her, trying to gently pry her away from Prez so the EMTs can do their job. The longer he lies there, motionless, the more images of this sickening moment she’ll have planted in her brain.
Bash must catch on to what I’m trying to do because he sets down the bottle he had a white-knuckle grip on and comes over.
“Let me.” He twitches his head to signal for me to stand aside. I can barely hear him because Vanessa’s screams are so loud, but I get the gist of what he’s saying and I move. She’s freakishly strong, but that’s not surprising in this situation. Her need to never let go of her man is deep-rooted, and doing so means accepting he’s gone.
With ease, Bash lifts Vanessa from Prez and nods for the EMTs to do their thing. She screams for her husband as he grips her tightly from behind and lifts her, kicking and scratching at him to get away. Her whole body goes limp once the EMTs lift Prez, placing him on the stretcher after the police have cordoned off the area surrounding him and taken their photos, and they cover his face with a white sheet. The wails that come from her remind me of the moment Mom was told that Dad hadn’t made it, that he was gone.
Like then, I’m utterly useless. There’s nothing I can do or say to make this better for her. Nothing in the world other than him miraculously opening his eyes can heal her heart. While this is sad for me, it’s just that. Sad. It’s fucking gut wrenching, shred your soul pain for Vanessa.
The deputy sheriff, Celia Shipman, is ordering around the other cops as they talk to the Khunts and brothers left behind. It’s a flurry of activity and yet none at all. Surreal is an understatement.
Bash calls me over as the EMTs roll the stretcher toward the ambulance, just as Vanessa collapses to the floor like a broken ragdoll, landing on her hands and knees and curling over herself. She sobs into her hands, which are covered in Prez’s blood, just like the rest of her beautiful cream outfit.
Kneeling beside her, I wrap my arms around her to let her know she’s not alone. She still has people here who love her. It won’t help for shit right now because the world is never going to be the same for her, but one day, when she’s ready, she’ll be grateful for the support.
I’m not sure how long we kneel on the solid ground, the bonfire still roaring behind us, but the brothers who left to search out the killer finally return. The Reapers are with them, and if circumstances were different, I’d chuckle at the cute, tiny woman walking among all those huge leather-clad men with an expression that promises death. She could easily lead an army.
Aleko searches me out as soon as he rounds the corner of the building. His eyes, when they land on mine, are filled with so much pain and anger, I’m not sure which one is riding him most. They flick across to Vanessa, then back to me, and he stalks toward me, giving no fucks who needs to step aside for him to take the quickest route.
“Hey, Mac. I’ve got her.” Shade’s deep timber tone is beside me just as Aleko crouches down to our level. “Come on, V.” He somehow manages to hook his arm beneath her knees and lift her. She immediately curls into him and continues sobbing. Holding her close, Shade nods to Aleko before heading toward the building.
The time I’ve spent with the Sons has taught me how close they all are to each other. But I’ve also seen all the individual friendships that have blossomed between them, and from that, I know Shade is going to be hit by this in a different way to the others. Prez and Shade went to school together, joined the club as prospects at the same time, and they have been best friends for most of their lives.
Arms wrap around my waist as I watch them disappear inside, and the smell that is uniquely Aleko invades my senses. His body presses against my back and he nestles his chin into the dip between my neck and my shoulder.
“I fucking love you, Cherry Pie.” The words are husky, as though he’s been shouting for hours on end and his throat is desperate to get these final words out. He’s trembling, but I can’t determine whether it’s from the pain or from the anger. It’s probably a combination of both.
“I love you too, Aleko.”
All around us, seething bikers are downing shot after shot, the empty glasses exploding in the bonfire, and as I move to turn and face my man, the room hushes.
“I know we all want vengeance on those Irish bastards for what they’ve done tonight. But we need to be smart and not fuck ourselves over in the name of revenge.” Hoops is standing tall beside the makeshift outside bar. He pauses a moment, emotion threatening to take over, but he pulls himself together and continues. “Prez would tell us to plan this shit, not go in raging. We need to do this right, get our fucking ducks in a row and keep our club safe or it’s all been for fucking nothing. Tonight, we drink for our Prez. Griffin Michaels. Friend, brother, husband. And tomorrow, we prepare. Those fuckers will regret fucking breathing.” Hoops raises his shot in the air. “For Prez!”
The whole club follows suit, raising whatever glasses, bottles, or cans they have. Bash quickly hands a shot to Aleko, who then does the same before they all yell, “For Prez!” Then they drink and a kind of calm before the storm settles over them.
Aleko throws his empty glass onto the bonfire and it lands with a crack as he grips onto me again.
“Come on.” Taking his hand in mine, I step out of his arms and head for the double doors into the back of the building. This is hitting Aleko in ways I don’t think he even knew were possible, and I can’t imagine not being able to spill blood or blow shit up is easy for him, so I lead him to our suite.
Going through the motions, Aleko undresses in silence, his mind clearly elsewhere. We both use the bathroom and I get into bed first, pulling the dark sheets back for him to climb in beside me. With a heavy sigh, Aleko nestles into me, his head against my stomach, and I finally feel his body relax a little. The way his muscles loosen slightly is visible and we just lie there for I don’t know how long, this time, with me comforting him, stroking my hands through his hair and across his back.
A few wet drops slide across my stomach, but before I can say anything, Aleko moves and kisses them away. More gentle than I’ve ever felt them, his lips work their way over my stomach, my thighs, and when they reach the slit of my pussy I can’t hold back the moan. I continue to thread my fingers through his hair as Aleko climbs on top of me, carefully spreading my legs to give him better access.
The moment his tongue touches me, my back automatically arches and I have zero control over my body as he sucks on my clit, pushing two fingers into my pussy and quickly drawing out my first orgasm. It’s so quick, I barely have time to breathe before he’s hovering over me, the head of his cock sliding against my entrance.
Aleko’s eyes are full of so much pain as he stares down at me, the cool-blue depths red-rimmed with emotion, but I know he needs this just as much as I do. To remember we’re still here. We’re not gone. The unshed tears and dark shadows are fighting for dominance, but it’s as though being in this moment pushes that aside, ever so briefly.
Leaning down, he takes my lips with his, gently parting them with his tongue, and I can taste myself on him. His tongue begins to battle with mine as his cock drives into me, over and over, but it’s not desperate or quick, it’s slow and steady, his pelvis rubbing against my clit with every push inside me. It’s so deep, so gentle, and my next orgasm builds into something so powerful I could explode. He doesn’t mean to draw it out, he’s just taking the pleasure from me that he needs, and I’m more than happy to give it, but the pace is excruciating.
All my nerves are on edge, waiting for that moment I finally give in to the sensations flowing through my body, but I refuse until Aleko’s ready. Our mouths are fused together as his thrusts become more urgent, one of his hands squeezing my hip, the other behind my head, gripping at my hair and holding me close.
His movements get jerky and he lets out a satisfied growl as he comes inside me, and it’s the key to unlocking my own orgasm. The feel of his cock pulsing against the walls of my pussy sends jolts of electricity through me and we both moan into each other’s mouths. With his cock still inside me, Aleko pulls back with watery eyes and places a featherlight kiss on the tip of my nose. Then he buries his head into the crook of my neck and breaks my heart all over again.
His silent cry is something I never want to experience again after tonight, and I can fully understand how helpless he’s felt when I’ve done the same thing.
The world will burn before I allow Aleko to get hurt like this again, because as much as he wants to protect me, I will happily risk every ounce of his rage in order to do the same for him.
Chapter Seventeen
Aleko
It’s been three weeks since the glue that has always held our club together was ripped away from us. Between the administrative shit of declaring the death, getting the certificates—both short and long—and picking the casket since Vanessa can barely get out of bed from the weight of her grief, it’s been a whirlwind of emotions around here. Our only saving grace is that Prez had an entire folder with all of his wishes written out. Then there’s the investigation of our club. We don’t like strangers all up in our business on a good day, so it was no surprise that the brothers got a little heated when the cops started acting like the place belonged to them, banning us from areas on our own property. Boner had to physically restrain Grinder before he scooped out some poor rookie’s eyeballs with a spoon.
Unfortunately, that’s not a euphemism. The spoon in his hand almost became a murder weapon.
Today, though, we finally put Prez to rest.
With Mackenzie by my side, one arm wrapped around my waist, her other hand on my bicep, I try my best to listen to the actual words Hoops is saying. The ocean breeze whips around us but every word is distinct and just as painful. My eyes are downcast, though, because I can’t use all of my senses at once without losing my shit.
“The first time I met Prez, he narrowed his eyes and asked me: ‘Why you wanna join my club, boy?’” Hoops pauses, the hitch in his voice more telling than his actual story. Prez is intimidating on a good day…was. Prez was. Fuck. But his love for the club, his brothers, was above all except Vanessa. No one and nothing outranked her.
“I didn’t know at the time how important this life would become to me.” Hoops pauses again, and as I look up, I see his eyes scan the cemetery. Half the town seems to be present. The pier is filled with bodies dressed in black and overflowing onto the beach around it. Knowing they feel a profound need to say goodbye, that they saw him as a prominent figure, a friend and a confidant, should bring us comfort, and I suppose it does but…it also hurts to share him right now. By the way Hoops fidgets, it’s clear he’s uncomfortable. “So, I just told him what I thought he wanted to hear. I said: ‘Cause I wanna ride.’” We all chuckle but there’s no humor in it, it’s just empty sounds swallowed up by this pit of dread and loss. “He got up and walked over to me, arms crossed and looking like he wanted to bite my head off. And what he said next has resonated with me for the last fifteen years. He said: ‘You’re here, kid, ‘cause you need a family.’ It wasn’t a question, you know? He just…that’s what he did, he took a bunch of misfits, lost kids, traumatized adults and he…he healed us.”
Beside me, Vanessa’s sob is muted only by her hand slapping across her mouth. Of everyone in attendance, she’s the only one sitting, because standing wasn’t an option. I don’t think her legs can hold her up. Shade is immediately beside her, squeezing her shoulders as the silent presence that she needs. That she’ll probably need for months, or years, maybe forever.
“No one could ever fill his shoes, they are too big for mere mortals, but we will follow his philosophy when it comes to the club. Rest in peace, Prez. Ride, die, and bleed for speed.”
“Ride, die, and bleed for speed.” Like we’re one single voice, we repeat our motto. Where our chant is usually filled with joy and pride, today, it chips away at a small piece of our souls. Today, it hurts in a sharp, ripping of our identities kind of way. Prez was us and we were all part of him, his chosen sons, his ride or die. His brothers in arms and in life.
Losing him won’t kill us but it will change us. Profoundly.
One by one, we step away and let Hoops pass by with the urn so everyone can say goodbye before we release his ashes to the four winds as a sign of freedom. Prez wished to fly over the ocean so he could travel the world and then come back to us. He didn’t write it down but Vanessa told us as best she could.
It’s what she wants too, one day, so she can travel the world with him.
