The Last Betrayal (18 page)

Coming to stop in front of the first house, we take stock of our surroundings. The run-down neighborhood shows what the people that live here must live like. The house we’re looking at is covered in colorful graffiti hiding the exterior brick walls. The front yard looks like a jungle with beer cans and garbage strewn across every inch. Fucking gross. How people can live like this fucking blows my mind.

“Ready?” Prez says into his radio attached to his cut.

“Hell yeah, Prez.”

“Let’s do it,” Prez replies, opening the passenger door to hop out.

I follow suit, and step on a cracked sidewalk with stains of blood splattered about. Great place to live.

“Champ, you knock on the door. Me, Mack, Dope and Blade will stand on either side of you, up against the wall,” Prez tells us.

Orders given, we trudge up the path to the decrepit front door. Once in position, I knock twice loudly before stepping back, discreetly putting my hand on the butt of my gun.

“What?” the man who answers the door says gruffly. “Who the fucking hell are you?”

“Your worst nightmare, motherfucker.” I pull my gun out of its holster and point it between his eyes, pushing him roughly back into the house. Fuck, it smells like something died in here. I crinkle my nose against the odor and swallow down the bile burning its way up my throat.

“Sit your arse down on that dirty as fuck sofa, and don’t say a fucking word ‘til I tell ya!” Mack shouts, grabbing the guy by the front of the shirt and shoving him on the stained couch.

“Do you know you’ve messed with the wrong people, right?” I say to him, spitting at his face showing my disgust at him.

“I ain’t messed with nobody. It’s you twats that’ve messed with the wrong crew. You were running drugs in our territory!” he yells at us, his olive skin turning purple with anger.

Pulling my fist back, I slam it into his jaw with so much force that it makes his teeth rattle.

He groans in pain before spitting blood on his carpet.

“Still gives you no fucking right to disrespect us the way you have. Leaving graffiti on our private property? What gave you that fucking right, prick?” Mack is getting angry, frustrated at the douche sitting there silently.

“You don’t cross onto our turf. Simple rule to follow, mate,” the guy says back, his deathly glare focused solely on Mack.

“It was an accident. You twats should’ve just came and spoke to us! Is that so fucking hard?” Mack asks, backhanding the sorry son of a bitch across the face before pacing rapidly around the room.

“Mate, I was given orders, yeah, don’t hate on us little guys.” The man hangs his head, rubbing his hands over his head. “We just get told what to do by the big guys.”

“No excuse, man. We didn’t even know one of our guys was dealing in this neighborhood.” Mack blows out a breath, shaking his head from side to side.

I’ve heard enough, time to end this shit. “Say bye, fucker.”

“No! Please!” His eyes widen as Cobra aims his gun at his head. My mouth curves into a sinister smile before he pull the trigger and watch as his brains splatter across the room, hitting the wall.

“Let’s go,” Prez says, jogging to the front door.

We follow, running to our vehicles before the cops are called. Though, I don’t think this street knows any different, especially with a gang running the area.

“Change of plan, boys. Let’s go for the bigger guys. The smaller men in the gang won’t know what to do once they’re gone. Head to DeShawn’s place. As far as we can tell, he’s the leader,” Prez says down his radio.

He glances at me quickly before turning his attention back to the road. I listen as the directions to the next house come over the radio from Mack. DeShawn’s isn’t far from the first guy, his house more intact than the other.

“This it?” I ask, putting the car in park.

“Yup,” is all Mack says down the radio. Getting out of the car, we stretch our limbs and check our guns for the umpteenth time.

Once again we’re making our way to a house, in the middle of a quiet, rundown street. This time though, the Prez pounds his fist on the door, almost taking it off its hinges. When there isn’t an immediate response, he pounds on it again.

Hearing footsteps from behind the door, we step back with our guns out, pointing at the wood framed door.

“What the…” DeShawn. Stupid douche answered the door, knowing the Crusaders MC were onto their asses.

“By the look on your face, I would guess you weren’t expecting us so soon. I’m quite surprised you weren’t informed about your buddy, Leighton, who we just paid a visit to. Though, I’m guessing by the state of his house, that he doesn’t get many visitors,” Mack says, cocking his head to the side.

DeShawn just stares at us with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing. Blade pushes him into the house, making him land with a thump on the floor. We step over him, and Blade drags him further into the house.

At least this place isn’t such a dump. The décor is nice, red and gold framing the black painted walls. The open plan area from the kitchen to the den is clean, welcoming. I guess this is where they hold their little meetings.

“We need answers, mate,” one of the British brothers says, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against one of the support beams in the living room.

“What to? You pricks dealt in the wrong area. You had to pay,” DeShawn sneers, levelling us with heated stares.

My blood pumps hard around my body as adrenaline courses through my system, ready incase of a fight. Judging by DeShawn’s angry red face and murderous eyes, he could lunge at any time.

Mack laughs loudly, head tilted back. “You think graffiti is teaching us a lesson, buddy? Tough bunch you are.”

I chuckle, the British lingo making everything all the more funny. “Look, so what that the Crusaders dealt in the wrong area, all you had to do was speak up, and your impending death wouldn’t be staring you in the face right now.”

He visibly gulps as he eyes our weapons like it’s the first time he’s noticed them.

“First of, why didn’t you just come to us and tell us that someone from my club was dealing in your area?” Mack says, standing in a fighter’s pose, ready in case DeShawn tries anything stupid.

“Are you fucking kiddin’? Look at you. You’re bigger than us, and we know you have guns and shit,” he replies, once again looking down at Mack’s handgun.

“Wrong answer, bud. You disrespected us, knowing what we could do. It’s time to rid this street of scum like yourself, and we’ll make sure it’s done proper.” Mack gives me the nod, and I place my gun against his temple.

“Time for you to go to sleep.” My finger doesn’t hesitate on the trigger, the loud bang making my ears ring, but I welcome it knowing a low life idiot is off the streets.

We make our way out, heading in opposite directions. Time to call it a night, see what happens tomorrow when their bodies are discovered. I chuckle at the thought of the other members of their little gang finding their leader’s brains up the wall.

After a long, cleansing shower to rid myself of the evening’s events, I wrap myself in the complimentary, hotel robe and amble to the kitchen for my phone. Seeing the time, I wonder where the hell Lauren is. Three in the morning and still no sign, and not one text.

C: Where r u? x

After a few minutes of silence, the phone beeps and Lauren’s drunken text pops onto my screen.

L. B hoem soon! A ittle bit dwurnk. Canr speek! Lovw u! x

I laugh at her awful spelling errors and send a quick reply;

C: Lol. C u soon x
                                                                                                                                                        

I place my phone on the table next to my wallet and grab a beer from the mini-fridge. Standing in front of the floor to ceiling windows looking over London, I peer up at the clear night sky showing the twinkling of thousands of stars.

I’m not sure how long I stand there, lost in my own thoughts before I hear loud giggling from the other side of the door. Putting my beer on the coffee table, I head to the door and open it wide. Lauren comes flying through, and I catch her before she falls on her face. She giggles as she stares at my chest and I chuckle silently.

Looking to the door, I find a perplexed and worried looking guy, rubbing the side of his neck.

“Thanks for bringing her back, man. Appreciate it.” I nod my head at him before shutting the door.

“Do you know what?” Lauren slurs to me, barely walking properly.

“What, sweetheart?” I fight the amused smile that is twitching on my face.

“Me and Alexis were having a reeeally amusing conversation earlier, can you guess what it was about?” She slurs as she starts giggling, walking into the edge of the coffee table before letting out a string of muffled curses.

“Haven’t a clue,” I reply, fighting my hardest not to laugh at her.

“Batteries and bunnies.” She howls with laughter, and I have to join her.

I can only imagine what she means by bunnies. Dildos.

She collapses in a heap on the couch, her eyelids fluttering shut, the last of her giggles floating out quietly into the room.

I swing her legs up to lay her down properly, and cover her with the gold throw hanging on the back of the couch. Kissing her softly on her cheek, I stand and head to the bedroom.

Sliding between the cool sheets, I sigh, contented at the comfyness of the soft mattress. It doesn’t take long ‘til sleep claims me.

Waking up to my head thumping its own bass line is not how I wanted to meet the day. My mouth is as dry as the Nevada desert, and my bladder feels ready to explode.

I roll over and fall straight off the couch and onto my ass with a squeal. Shit! I rub my ass as I get up and walk to the bathroom to take care of my most pressing need.

Washing my hands, I hear a discreet coughing from the doorway and turn, jumping out of my skin at Champ standing there in his Calvin Klein underwear and a wide smile on his face.

“Bit jumpy this morning, sweetheart.”

“You scared the bejesus out of me, idiot!” I glare at him as I snatch up my toothbrush, squirting a generous amount of toothpaste on it. Bringing it to my mouth, I turn my head back to the mirror and brush vigorously.

“Do you know what time it is?” he asks, still leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

“Nope. I was too desperate to pee to stop and look at the time.” I place my toothbrush back in the holder and gurgle some minty mouthwash. My head is still slightly spinning and I grip the sink as I spit the mouthwash down the drain.

“It’s five in the morning, and you just did a full workout in your mouth with your toothbrush.”

I turn to him, and he has his megawatt smile in place.

“Dammit. I’ll be doing it again in a few hours then. I need more sleep,” I grumble, pushing him back so I can walk passed him. This time I’m opting for the bed.