11. Nero
Chapter 11
Nero
“ N ice of you to show up motherfucker.” Jasper says.
“Let’s get this shit over with,” I reply, following him into the garage.
We walk past the cars Leatherface had been restoring to the far back room where we store the guns. Opening the door, I find multiple bodies splayed out on the ground. There’s a man gagged and tied to a chair in the middle of the room. His clothes are covered in blood, and his head wobbles from side to side. He moans, and his eyes widen when he sees us.
“Why is he alive and they aren’t?” I ask Jasper, looking down at over a dozen lifeless bodies.
“Because it turns out our buddy Benji here isn’t actually a part of the Italian Mafia.” Jasper crosses his arms over his chest and smirks at the guy before turning back to me. “We can use him to our advantage.”
“We could have used these men as leverage, too, but you fucking killed them!” I snap.
“I had no other choice. They heard his confession!” Jasper fires back.
I run a hand over my face. We can’t afford another war. Not when the club barely had enough members to operate as is and not with our fucking president in a coma.
“Are you an informant Benji?” I ask, dropping to my haunches to face the guy.
He nods his head eagerly, and I look back to Jasper. I had to work with what we had left, and this is all we had working in our favor.
“How do you know we can trust him? I say, turning to Jasper.
“Well, for starters, he knows he’s already a walking dead man. He knows the moment he doesn’t cooperate, the Italians will get a hard drive from yours truly. There’s no room for him to betray us without betraying himself first.”
I pull out my knife and cut the gag off Benji. He gasps for air as he cries out in relief.
“I want answers now, Benji. Who are the Italians working for?” I keep the knife close to his neck.
“Please. Please. He has my fucking sister. I can’t let him hurt her.” Benji cries, and I look at Jasper.
“Do you have his fucking sister?” I ask.
“Collateral damage.” Jasper shrugs. I shake my head and turn back to Benji.
“Answer the fucking question, why do they want the Russians dead?”
“I don’t know.” He cries out. I drop the knife to his dick, and he squirms.
“They don’t tell us everything. All I know is that the higher-ups, the Biondini Brothers, want to expand their territories. They’re at war with some politicians. Please. Don’t kill me.”
“Who’s the politician?”
“I don’t know, man. I can’t remember his name.” I push the knife into his groin further.
“Acuer-Acuve-Cuev-”
“Preston Cuevas?” I finisg for him.
“That’s it, Cuevas,” he says, excited with himself that he remembered.
“That’s the mother fucker that wants to work with Leatherface,” Jasper says, connecting the dots.
“Ari’s soon-to-be husband,” I mumble.
I don’t let the anger siphoning through me show. Not when all I can think about is Preston Cuevas. Ariella still has no idea this was the man her brother wanted to be her husband. I would have to use every opportunity to figure out who this son of bitch is and what angle he was working from.
It takes a little over an hour to dispose of the bodies. Benji would be returned to the Italians with a well-formed alibi. I wash my hands and change into an extra pair of clothes. The thought of Ariella and her future fiancé makes me uneasy. I need to get inside and check on her.
“All done in here?” I hear the familiar feminine voice and look up to find Ofelia holding Guapo in her arms.
“Where’s Ari?”
“Shawny got her all riled up about the two of you. I don’t think you’re gonna find her the same way ya left her.”
I rush through the garage toward the main building. Loud music blares from within the bar. The closer I get the more I can make out the voice singing. The God-awful singing I know from her early morning showers.
“Baila, Baila esta cumbia, ritmo, nadie.” Ariella sings.
I look at Ofelia, who’s followed closely behind me, and she shrugs. Ari is on top of one of the pool tables with a karaoke mic, singing and dancing to the music. Her eyes are glossy, and her cheeks are flushed.
She doesn’t look at me while she continues to put on her performance. Her biggest fans, Larry, Chunks, and Salvi, stand front and center, cheering her on. Larry takes off his cowboy hat and throws it up to her. She places it on her head and continues to shake her hips, singing over Selena Quintanilla.
It had been Larry’s fucking idea to get the jukebox, and I said yes, not realizing it would come back to bite me in the ass like this. I stand there frozen, watching the fuckery happening in front of me.
I lean against the counter where even Ofelia’s eyes are plastered to Ariella’s performance as she holds on to Guapo. He sees me and barks. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was just as pissed off as me about the way all these men were lusting over our girl.
Shawny’s arms are crossed in front of her as she glares up at Ari. Her snarky smile returns when she sees me.
“I may have given Princess a few too many Don Julios and Dr. Peppers.” I reach out and grab her by the hair.
“I don’t know what fucking games you’re playing, but keep them away from my club,” I growl into her ear. The music ends, and I hear the cheering behind me. I release Shawny and turn to see Ari glaring down at me from the top of the pool table.
The music changes to Fresita by Fuerza Regida, and she gives me one last look. It’s full of provocation, but I can see the hurt she’s masking.
She drops to her knees and begins to roll her hips forward and backward in front of Chunks. I’m halfway there before she bends over and grabs Chunks. With a fist full of his vest, she pulls him to her and presses her lips to his.
What happens next will forever go down in history as the day Nero Dizon lost his fucking mind.
“Oh lord, help us all.” Ofelia Whispers behind me.
My steps are light as I walk toward the pool table. It takes everything in me to stay calm when my blood feels like hot lava beneath my skin. The crowd moves to make way for me. A mix of motorcycle club members and regulars from outside taking advantage of the happy hour drinks.
They all move back. The kiss is brief but I can see the way Chunks is staring at Ari. Like a lovesick motherfucker, and I want to send him on a one-way trip to hell.
Slowly, Ari tilts her head to look at me, and the defiance glows in those green eyes. The softness has been dimmed, and that shyness she carried was left behind in the bottom of a bottle of Don Julio.
Her lips curl in a subtle fuck you to me, and I have no idea what I did to sour her sweet, but I’ll be damned if she thinks I’m gonna watch her kiss another man. I grab a pool stick and break it over Chunk’s back.
He groans in pain and turns with his fist up to me. Grabbing him by the shirt, I drive my fist into his face. I watch in satisfaction as he falls to the ground and look up to see the shock on everyone’s face.
Everyone in the bar gasps. I was usually the least violent of the bunch. I was a lot of things before Ariella Reyes turned me inside out.
“Shows over, folks,” Jasper says into the mic.
I grab Ari from off the table.
“Don’t touch me!” She shouts, and I shake my head.
I let her go, and gravity pulls her in every direction as she stumbles out the door. Her heels go in for the final attack as she wobbles and faces plants into the mud. She starts crying, so I pick her up and put her in the back of the car, where Ofelia meets me with Guapo.
“Let me run in and grab her some towels,” Ofelia says, shaking her head at the whole thing.
I slam the car door, and Jasper’s already made his way down the lawn.
“What the fuck was that Nero?”
“What did it look like?” I snap back.
“It looks like you’re starting to get a little too caught up in this shit you have going on with some bitch.” He says, pinning me with a glare.
This mother fucker.
He doesn’t want to go there tonight.
“What the fuck did you just call her? She’s not some bitch Jasper. She’s my fucking Client. She is Aurelio Reyes’s daughter! Do you want to start that war, too?!”
“Who are you trying to convince of that? Me or you?”
I let him get the last word, but I can’t concentrate on much after that.
__
The ride home was silent, with Ari passed out in the back seat. For a moment, that guilt returned. The memories of the day I was forced to play a part in Leatherface’s game. Her crying still shatters my heart, and after her confession about being kidnapped as a young girl, I felt worse.
I couldn’t offer her anything past a trauma bond, but at the same time, I wasn’t willing to just let her go. Not after discovering that her future husband was caught up in something with the Italians. Something that could potentially put her in danger.
I tuck Ariella into bed and run my hand through her hair again. She had blacked out at some point after the fortieth time of telling me to go to hell and calling me a dictator.
Thankfully, Ofelia had wiped most of the dirt off Ari. I thought about putting her in the shower and dressing her in something more comfortable, but that would unlock another world of problems. Considering my dick only responded to images of her. Even now, it wanted to break through the confines of my jeans.
I fucked up taking her to the club. I should have stuck to the original plan. To drop her off and go back alone. The excitement in her eyes when she asked to go was too intoxicating. She was a switch I had to keep shutting off. I had to keep reminding myself that she was not someone I could risk my desires with.
It had become very clear to me tonight just how much she influenced the beast inside me. She was tugging on its collar tonight. That fucking look in her eyes before she kissed Chunks.
She knew exactly what she was doing to me. I watch her for a minute longer before I dig in her purse to find my keys. I recognize the small notebook that she’s always writing in, and I put it back. I don’t want to disrespect her privacy.
You didn’t believe that, did you?
The part about disrespecting her privacy?
All I can think about is the ways I want to disrespect this woman. With my mouth, with my cock, with her ass in the air while she screams my name.
I take out the notebook and roam through the lists. Nothing great. Grocery lists, Christmas gift ideas, a ton of work-related shit, and then I find a bucket list.
I read over the list—my dick hardening when I get to the bottom. Ariella Reyes was not only a virgin, but she had never even played with a vibrator. My dick twitches in response. I look back down to the last task on her list. A pink line runs through the words. Fall in love .
Who the hell had she fallen in love with? This was a brand-new notebook. I know. I was with her in the store the day she bought this fucking notebook. I know because I told her she had more journals than nuns had Bibles. She rolled her eyes and bought it anyway.
I hear Axel coming through the front door, arguing with someone in the living room. Ari stirs in her sleep. I stand still and take quiet steps until I reach her bedside. Her face scrunches up, and she lets out a small groan. Guapo is up immediately assessing her.
“Nero,” she groans.
Axel doesn’t expect me to be here. I had lied to Ariella about him sending me to the Salon with her today. He had told me to take the day off. I was still actively stalking her phone. For protective measures, of course. When I saw a message from Sergio, I showed up and took her to her appointment to make sure Sergio wasn’t some lover of hers. Again, for protective measures.
I listen and wait for the outside commotion to cease before I move back to the bed. I run my hand through her soft silk hair again and pet Guapo, too, so the bastard doesn’t try and start barking. She whimpers again, and it’s at that moment that I don’t care if she’s fallen in love. I don’t care if she was destined to be married. She was my doll. Mine to play with, and I was not the sharing type.