Chapter Seventeen #2
A gentle kiss follows those sweet words.
“And I can’t wait to figure out what those demons are and be the one to slay them.”
The pitter-patter of my heart turns to full swoon, as I gaze up and find peace within his irises that I’ve never felt before.
“Hop in, Poppy.”
I waiver for half a second, the darkness inside the vehicle calling on memories I’ve worked so hard to suppress. It isn’t until he gently takes my hand that I finally get the courage to move forward and follow him into the limo.
Several Months Later
I didn’t realize how deeply connected Arturo was to everyone until it was too late. After several months of pure bliss, his true colors finally came out, and by that time, I was already tied to him, and things were out of my control.
If I had known earlier on just how close to Moseley he truly was, I wouldn’t have agreed to be his girl.
Not only did Moseley recruit Arturo from a rival MC club based out of Reno, and purposely put him in the Misfits as a mole, but through stealthy reconnaissance of my own, I found out that he plans on excommunicating Warden as Prez of the Raging Misfits and placing Arturo in his place.
I didn’t want that to happen. Though my reasons are selfish as fuck. Warden feeds my habit… he does it discreetly and without Arturo knowing, which I’m thankful for. But today I slipped up and left the needle where he could see it. Now he’s fucking pissed.
“Are you fucking serious, Poppy?” he rages, throwing the needle at my feet. “You promised me you would stop.”
Guilt overwhelms me as I stare at the tiny vial of comfort, its lingering side effects already taking hold.
“It’s not that easy,” I shout, though my voice comes out more lackadaisical than I would like.
My tone gives off the impression that I don’t give two fucks what he wants, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but when there are people in the shadows feeding your habit, it’s hard to say no to your addictions.
“Who gave it to you?” he demands, and the way his voice carries tells me that lying will only make things worse.
“Does it really matter?”
His glare slices through me, almost as if he’s holding a knife to my wrists. “Yes,” he growls, his arms folding angrily across his chest. “We can’t get you better if you’re constantly high.”
Nodding, I gently whisper. “Warden,” before looking at my feet.
“I fucking knew it! That motherfucking asshole needs to be dethroned.”
“You can’t just take his place,” I challenge, knowing it’s probably a mistake.
There’s a strange darkness in the way his mouth curls with disapproval. It’s a side of him he normally doesn’t show. “That’s where you’re wrong, bitch.” That single word unravels me.
Where’s the loving man set on saving me?
The stench of alcohol permeates his breath as he encroaches on the space between us, a mixture of off-putting bourbon and stale beer.
“Oh, we’re name calling now, are we?” My voice seems weak and small in comparison to the rage in his eyes.
His hand moves with such precision, wrapping around my throat, squeezing it with enough force to be punishing and cruel.
“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want,” he growls, the alcohol talking for him.
“I claimed you. You’re like a pet to me, nothing more.
I dragged you out of the gutter, gave you a title, made you something, and this is how you repay me for my kindness?
You continue to feed your veins with that goddamn poison, insult me to my face, and question my authority. ”
Straining to speak, I manage to get out a tiny, “I’m sorry,” as I struggle to take a breath.
His grip only gets tighter.
“You have no idea how sorry you’ll be should you cross me again.”
Threat received, heard, and noted.
Before he can take this a step further, a loud, horrifying bang has him pulling away from me.
“We’ll discuss this more later.”
He rushes out of the room, the door opening to people screaming and yelling from the common area.
“What the fuck is going on?” Arturo bellows just as I come around the corner to see one of the prospects lying on the floor, blood pouring out of a single gunshot wound to the head.
Warden stands over him, breathing erratic and coming out in angry huffs.
“I’m sick and tired of these fucked up prospects fucking shit up for me. All I asked for was a little reconnaissance on that new fucking club that decided to form in town, and this motherfucker almost blew his cover.”
“Well, now he’s fucking dead.”
Warden throws up his hands, the club watching him spiral.
“Fuck him. I need something on these guys, something that will stick and make them second think going up against us. But I got nothing except your fucked up rivalry with their Prez. That one eyes motherfucker doesn’t deserve that patch on his chest. Passive, lacking fight.
Who the fuck decides to create a club that follows the law, knowing that a club like ours exists in this town.
There’s not enough room for the both of us. ”
He kicks the kid on the floor, his body slightly twitching.
I can’t look away; my eyes hyper fixated on the blood leaking down his face and the deadness in his eyes. My chest tightens as he morphs before my eyes, my sister’s face replacing his, the barren wasteland of survivor’s guilt crippling me.
“You’re not going to touch Joe Frazier. He’s mine,” Arturo growls, hands curling into angry fists.
The name hits me harder than it should. Surely, it’s not the same Joe Frazier I’ve known for half of my life?
“You can have the old one-eyed bastard; it’s his son I want to eradicate from existence.
It was his idea to form the club, and he rides around town like he fucking belongs here.
” He smashes a hand on one of the tables, breaking the fragile wood like it’s made out of particle board. “This is my town!”
“This is Moseley’s town,” Arturo argues.
Warden smirks. “So the bastard thinks. The only reason my uncle has any pull around here is because he has me doing all of his dirty work for him. The bastard doesn’t have a fucking backbone and hides behind his hired guns.
That’s why this is my town. My uncle’s reign will come to an end, but when I’m ready to spill his blood.
But first, we gotta take out these bastard Elm Street Riders, their one-eyed freak of a Prez, and the fucking hothead son of his.
I know he’s the key to bringing them down, but how are we going to coax his son out?
He’s not seeing anyone, his mother is hard to get to, and he doesn’t have any siblings? ” Warden fires back.
“Are you talking about Eddie Frazier?” I question, even though everything about me is currently on edge.
The entire club’s heads swivel my way, Warden’s eyes narrowing. “You know them?”
I nod, the movement feels heavier than it should. “That bastard is the reason my sister is dead, and I lost everything in my life!” My voice carries across the room; the wounds still fresh after all this time.
“What do you know about him?” Warden asks, stepping closer, eyes widening with wonder.
“Everything,” I whisper. “Too much.”
Warden smiles with glee. “Tell me how I can make that motherfucker snap. What’s his weakness?”
“Amber,” I shout internally.
“Tell me how to bring him down, and I’ll give you what you want,” Warden whispers, now close enough for me to see the speckles of blood covering his face.
“If you want to bring Eddie Frazier down, you have to hit him where it hurts. His family.”
“Off limits,” Warden growls, “at least for now.”
“Not that family,” I tell them. “His found one. His friends are his life. If you take out one of his two best friends, you’ll definitely make him snap.”
“Are you talking about that tall, lanky motherfucker that always walks around with a mask?” Arturo questions.
My head bobs again. “Yes.” Though my stomach twists at the thought. Why am I throwing Rich into the mix like this?
“He’s always with the hothead. I’m not going to be able to get him alone,” Warden says more to himself than to me. “Who’s his other friend? Maybe we can get to him?”
“His name is Wesley Dover, but good luck getting to him. He’s in prison.”
Warden’s smile sadistically spreads. “Is he now?”
“Yeah, the motherfucker got his ass locked up trying to protect me. Now he’s stuck in Ely prison for the next four years.”
Arturo’s head turns my way. “So, he means something to you?” His mouth pulls into a disapproving frown, one mixed with a scowl that only resides in the arch of his eyes.
“No, I hate his guts, almost as much as I hate Eddie’s.” If this is all true… why does my heart hurt at the thought of them hurting Wesley? Shaking off the unwelcome thoughts, I try to keep my composure the best I can, doing whatever I can to school the regret from my eyes and tone.
But it’s too late…
Warden and Arturo share a look; it’s deadly and full of mischief.
“Thank you for this information, Poppy,” Warden compliments, kissing my forehead.
“I see something good coming to you very soon.” He whispers that last part so only I can hear him, shoving the vial into the pocket of my hoodie without anyone else seeing.
“Enjoy!” He turns toward his office, his phone already out of his pocket.
“You’re just going to hurt him, right?” I question, unable to hide my panic. “You’re not going to kill him or anything, are you, Warden?”
He glances over his shoulder, that evil smile pulling even further. “Don’t worry, Princess, we only plan on using your knight as a pawn. Once Eddie breaks, so will his club, and we’ll run them all right out of Fernley.”
I don’t believe him; nothing about his words seems true.
He barely glances at Arturo before pressing his phone to his ear. “Call someone to clean this shit up,” he orders, motioning to the dead kid on the floor. “Then you and I need to talk.”
Arturo waits for him to leave before glancing my way.
“Thanks, my pet,” he whispers, the pet name more of a dig than a form of endearment.
It’s emphasizing the conversation we had earlier—his way of calling me a bitch without showing his true colors to everyone in the room.
“Guess you’re more of a use to me than I could’ve guessed. ”
He gives me a parting kiss before calling his cleanup crew. The rest of us are left lingering with the bloody kid on the floor.
At least he’s not twitching anymore.
“Damn, Poppy, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Gina exclaims, moving toward me. “Your drug addiction must be really bad if you’re going to throw out someone’s name like that.”
“What are you talking about?”
She laughs. “I know you’re new to this world, but you basically just signed your friend’s death certificate.”
“Who? Do you mean Wesley?”
She nods. “The one who went to jail for you.” We’ve had this conversation a million times before. Mostly when I was high or drunk, or a combination of the two. She knows our history… the ugliness of it all.
“He’s not my friend.”
Gina smirks. “I’ve known you long enough to know the truth, Poppy. You may play like he means nothing to you, but beneath all that hostility and rage is a mutual respect and attraction you can’t hide.”
“You’re wrong.”
Her shoulders slightly lift. “Maybe I am. But when he ends up dead in his prison cell, lying in a pool of his own blood like Maggot over there, you better not shed a tear. Own that shit, Poppy.” She points to the filled in tear drop tattoo just below her left eye.
“We all have our enemies; yours just happens to be a man who would burn down Hell just to get to you.”
My mouth opens, then snaps shut, words failing me.
“Face it, girl. You hate to love the guy, and once he’s gone, the only person that ever really gave a fuck about you will no longer be here to save you from yourself.
I don’t know about you, but that’s not a guilt I could personally live with.
” She pats my shoulder condescendingly before exiting the room, leaving me alone to shatter.
Fuck, what did I just do?
Not only did I just hand Wesley over to them on a silver platter, but I basically gave them Eddie and Rich too.
Maybe you’re the problem, Poppy. Everyone in your life either leaves or dies.
It’s the last thought that goes through my head before I disappear into the room I share with Arturo, pull back my sleeve, and feed my veins the only thing that can make the guilt go away.