Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
GRANITE
There was something about the darkness that soothed me.
Even as a boy, I preferred the dark. Unlike my little brother, I never asked for a light to be kept on while I fell asleep.
The black of night didn’t scare me. Shadows never bothered me.
Maybe it was because I felt like a shadow myself.
I didn’t know. And I never felt the need to get psychoanalyzed.
What the fuck could a white jacket tell me about myself that I didn’t already know?
Psychopath.
Sadist.
Criminal.
Immoral fucker.
I knew all this shit, and I didn’t give a rat’s ass. If I did, I wouldn’t have such a long list of character flaws, now, would I?
I took a long, deep drag of my cigarette, the tiny coal flickering in the dark as I inhaled. The only other light in the room was the full moon shining in through the window. It fell perfectly over her small frame as she lay on the bed, her face toward me.
She seemed peaceful, blissfully unaware of how her life was about to change. But once she opened those pretty blue eyes of hers, she’d know. She’d remember what happened, and she’d know her well-manicured life would exist no more, tainted and ruined by blood and metal.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t excite me, which was why I was sitting in this room like a fucking vampire in the dark. I wanted to look into her eyes once she realized what was happening.
There was a knock on the door, and I cursed under my breath, putting out the cigarette, downing my beer, and getting up from the chair.
I swung open the door. “What?”
Dutch cocked a brow. “She awake?”
“Not yet.” I glanced over my shoulder at the girl on the bed before walking out and closing the door behind me, then focusing my attention back on Dutch. “What’s up?”
“Someone called the police, claiming to have heard gunshots in the area while all this went down.”
“Fuck.” I pulled my hand through my hair. “Who was on duty?”
“Lucky for us, a few detectives on our payroll. So, hopefully, nothing will come of it. Dude, what happened out there?”
“It didn’t go quite as planned.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Dutch seemed anxious and confused—two emotions that could send a grown-ass man reeling.
“Goddammit.” I felt like planting my fist through the fucking drywall. “I didn’t count on that motherfucking prospect having balls.”
Dutch frowned. “Does anything work out the way we planned around here? Ever?”
I sighed. “Guess not.”
Dutch’s worried look settled a little. “You going to kick his ass?”
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with my brother.”
“Just give me a heads up before you do.” Dutch’s lips curved at the edges. “I want to buy front row tickets.”
I let out a laugh thinking about how much shit Dutch and I gave Onyx when he was younger. Poor bastard never caught a break whenever we were around.
I pulled out another cigarette, tapping the filter on the packet before placing it between my lips. “Where is my brother?”
“He’s having a beer downstairs.”
I lit the cigarette then blew out a cloud of smoke, not caring that Dutch was at the receiving end. “Good. I’ll deal with him later.”
Dutch nodded then gestured toward the door. “You sure about this?”
I studied him for a few seconds. “If you have doubts, you should have brought it up at church.”
“I’m not doubting anything.”
“Good.”
“I’m just wondering what’s else is going on in that head of yours.” He gave me a knowing look, as if he could see straight through me. I hated it. If someone had the correct formula to figure me out, it would be Dutch. Fucker knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.
With my gaze pinned on him, I took a step forward. “Believe me, if you had to know what’s going on in my head, you’d be certifiable.”
A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. “That, I know.”
I stepped back and dropped my cigarette before stomping on it. “Did you tie up loose ends?”
Dutch placed his hands in his jean pockets. “We found one of them in the car, still breathing. For some reason, Ink wanted to bring him here, see if he can make him talk.”
“There ain’t nothing the prospect can say that we don’t already know.”
He shrugged. “Tell that to Ink. Fucker is bat-shit crazy, man.”
“Best fucking sergeant-at-arms we could ask for.”
Dutch laughed and lit a cigarette. “If everything goes according to plan, we should get a phone call by morning.”
“Let’s hope everything does go according to plan.”
“Yeah. Everyone is anxious to get the ball rolling and finally nail those Python fuckers.” I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Now go shave your fucking head. Your hair color is starting to show.” I shot him a cocky grin before turning around, heading back to the room.
“I’m thinking about growing it,” he called after me. “Seems like red hair is becoming a trend these days.”
“Wishful thinking, fucker.” I chuckled as I closed the door.
Dutch and I had been friends for as long as I could remember. Both our grandfathers had been founders of the club. Being the same age, Dutch and I always hung out—even before we became members of the American Street Kings.
Poor fuck had red hair, hence the reason he shaved it.
There was a time when everyone tried to convince him to grow his hair and join the Redhead Days Festival in the Netherlands, but the bastard refused.
All the teasing about the festival eventually landed him his club name, Dutch, the club enforcer.
To his family, he was Gabriel Carter. Fucker seemed all calm and shit, but I’d seen him lose his cool while holding a knife.
Even I had to keep the gall down after watching him slice a man’s guts out as if it was nothing but a raw piece of meat.
But I knew the cause of his anger that erupted every now and then.
I shared that same anger, the same regret.
It was something that would never go away.
I walked over to the bed, my shit-kicker boots hardly making a sound as I moved across the hardwood floor.
Everything had to go according to plan. I’d waited too goddamn long for this. We had planned this entire operation for weeks, discussing it endlessly at church. But what the rest of the club didn’t know was I had planned this for years.
Alyx stirred, soft little moans slipping from her lips.
I stared down at her, my gaze raking over every contour of her face, every feature illuminated under the moonlight.
Flawless, pale skin. Almond shaped eyes with a natural lift at the corners.
And her lips? Beautiful, and plump in the center with a perfect cupid’s bow.
She shifted, her body moving over the newly bought sheets. Gently, I placed the back of my hand against her cheek. Warm. Soft. Begging to be touched and corrupted.
Soon.