The wolf pack, p.13
The Wolf Pack, page 13
Killing her beloved caused a chain reaction, with her evil intentions quite clear from the words I had heard underneath her breath. It wasn’t a leap of faith to presume she had a hand in what had happened to their fathers. The only thing that didn’t make any sense was the reason why she had left her sons to fend for themselves with the entire community becoming surrogate parents to them.
“Losing them like that left this huge hole in your hearts. I could sense through your voices, growing up there was a wall of mistrust between you. I have two ears and I’m willing to listen without judgment,” I said, hypocritically, knowing I was asking them to do something I couldn’t.
Crosby took off the necklace and it swung back and forth in front of my eyes. It landed in my hands with cold indifference, sending a chill down my spine. The material was gold plated, with the Black family name on the front in onyx.
“I actually talk to them and it helps to think they’re listening. Saying those words that hurt me takes away the power. I release those bad memories into the stream of my consciousness. Wesley taught us to let go of the darkness in our souls.” Crosby was almost daring me to open up the locket.
I opened it and I saw their faces like a blast from the past, literally and figuratively. Their mother had these cold, dead, blue eyes and it was quite recognizable the way that she felt about them. My eyes widened when I saw something familiar staring at me. I was shocked at how the unmistakable mark on her bare shoulder was hereditary. It wasn’t a coincidence and the pieces fell together like a jigsaw puzzle.
Natalie was a direct descendant and most likely their sister.
Chapter Twenty
The bar in question was an out of the way dive frequented by the unsavory elements of society. The parking lot was littered with motorcycles and big pickup trucks, obviously compensating for some kind of shortcoming. Roughnecks and bikers sometimes didn’t mix well when liquor was involved. I was rocking a red leather skirt, hugging my hips to draw those less than innocent eyes. It was agreed upon that Wesley, Callan, and Crosby would be in attendance but I was alone flaunting my wares.
It was close to midnight and those overindulging were quite boisterous and loud, with the smell of tobacco wafting in the air. A fight broke out and the bouncer stepped in quickly to defuse the situation before it escalated. He wasn’t a bruiser and didn’t project a menacing air. He was actually quite soft-spoken and stayed quiet near the bar, in the shadows, ready to strike like a cobra after its prey.
I didn’t have a good feeling about any of it. We had no description of the guy who had been bragging about his accomplishments to anybody who was willing to listen. It was a high octane environment where the slightest provocation could tear the place apart. The mahogany of the bar had a few morally challenged women on top of it, dancing to the whistles and catcalls of those having a good time.
The black leather boots and bustier accompaniment I was wearing had eyes watching me, as I made my way over to the bar to find out what was on tap. The bartender was a tattooed woman with the very strange name of Zenith. She had them eating out of her hands, laughing at their insipid jokes and showing off a bit of skin to garner a healthy tip.
“I’m telling you the place was a tinderbox. The flames were quite something to see when they got out of control. I just had to stand back and watch my handiwork in action. There was no way anybody could have survived my masterpiece. You always get what you pay for with me. Many of you can attest to that personally and I have never disappointed.” He was making a spectacle of himself, with his black goatee and cold blue eyes, underneath a pair of unassuming glasses.
He wasn’t like everybody else, resorting to a black bomber jacket and very casual black pants. He was wearing an ostentatious belt buckle that was almost blinding from where I was standing, every time the light hit it a certain way. He was literally advertising his last name. The ugliest trait was arrogance and he had that in spades.
I spotted Wesley standing in a corner drinking a beer, watching everything with an eagle eye. His blue jeans were tight and some girls were not being very subtle about checking him out. They probably saw him as a mystery and wanted to peel back the layers to see what was underneath.
Callan was playing a game of pool and running the table, with several young enthusiasts quite upset by the results. He was careful not to brag and shrugged it off when they told him that he was a shark. The black leather vest over a denim shirt had me thinking of creative ways to get him naked and at the mercy of my eager eyes.
Crosby was flirting shamelessly with two inexperienced young girls barely able to stand. They were touching him and I suddenly felt this need to rip their hair out by the roots. It was an impulse and I quickly squashed it when I realized he was playing the game. It wasn’t their fault he had become catnip and his personality was an open book at the risk of looking too close beyond the cover.
“I’m going to ask you one more time to shut up. Some things are better left unsaid and you are talking way too much. People are starting to notice and we don’t want to risk the walls having ears,” The man beside him advised sternly and I could tell from his body language he was getting increasingly upset.
“You worry too much. What you need is to get laid. Pick somebody from the crowd and do what comes naturally. I didn’t ask you to come here with me but you insisted. I get the feeling you’re not exactly impartial when it comes to my employment. I don’t like the idea of having a baby sitter.” He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and if looks could kill, he would be writhing on the floor gasping for air.
The jukebox was blaring old eighties tunes and people were dancing, grinding to the number, with less than subtle intentions. It was interesting to be an observer, voyeuristically taking in everything around me. It was a dance and each gender was trying to learn the steps. Some of them were going to get lucky and other ones shot down. It was all about having game and using disarming tactics, like a warm smile and conversation, to get into a woman’s panties.
I motioned for the bartender and whispered into her ear about how I was friends with Holly. She took immediate interest and I handed her a hundred dollar bill, slyly, with nobody being the wiser.
“I need to know the name of the man at the end of the bar and whatever else you can tell me about him. I’m a big believer in having information at my fingertips. Holly has spoken quite fondly about you. She tells me you know everything that goes on around here. That is a taste of what you can earn,” I teased her with the possibility of a huge payoff and her eyes lit up like the fourth of July at the possibility of more of the same coming into her greedy hands.
“His name is Haven and he has become quite the regular in the last few weeks. He’s basically a mercenary for hire with a reputation to get the job done. He stays at the motel down the street but he’s never alone. Somebody with deep pockets is footing the bill for everything, including the liquor tab for him and his friends.” I had been skeptical about her ability to overhear conversations but she was proving to be a font of information.
Rough around the edges, was exactly how I would describe her, with those tattoos in various colors and designs adorning her skin. Her dark hair was shaved bald on one side with the rest combed over the other side. The nose and tongue ring had her blending into her environment. She had on a similar leather vest, but the nude cleavage was a good indication she wasn’t wearing anything under it.
“I’m going to need you to keep your eyes and ears open when he’s around. What I’m looking for is who hired him and whether or not he’s guarded. I see one man but I have this funny feeling there are others lurking in the near vicinity.” I surveyed the crowd, pinpointing one disinterested bystander nursing a beer, much the same way that Wesley was doing. I smiled knowingly, when I saw Wesley inching his way closer to the man.
“I can be persuaded to stay a little closer. Offering a free shot out of my navel will loosen his lips a little bit more. We need to stick together.” I had a feeling she would probably only agree to one thing and that revolved around the almighty dollar.
It wasn’t long before she was lying on top of the bar with her belly button exposed. Haven took the bait and used only his mouth to suck up the shot with a look of guilty pleasure on his face. He, most likely, had been watching her for quite some time, debating on whether or not to make an approach. This would open up an avenue of conversation, essentially breaking the ice.
I grabbed Crosby from a gaggle of girls and dragged him onto the dance floor. I still hadn’t told them about my suspicion regarding a family connection to Natalie. She had played it perfectly with Wesley and somehow he hadn’t gotten a whiff of anything being out of the ordinary. He was rather trusting and believed there was good in everybody. I didn’t want to be the one to bust his bubble, when I really didn’t know anything for certain.
The birthmark could’ve been a coincidence and I was making too much of it. Crosby was a tactician and relied on his instincts to make those tough decisions. It was necessary to bring him into my confidence without alerting the others. There was no way to know how he was going to respond to a secret we shared.
I moved with him on the dance floor and he was remarkably quick on his feet. His hands on my hips made my legs quiver and the inside of my legs twitched with the obvious sexual heat emanating between us. I thought I was going to burst into flames with the combustible elements. He made me sigh, with his hands staying exactly where they were on my hips to guide my movements.
“You have this raw sensuality that’s hard to tame. There’s an animal inside of you. Don’t be scared of its influence. It’s doubtful you will become a full-fledged wolf but I’ve seen stranger things happen after the bite. Your other senses have been enhanced. Having the third eye can be a gift and a curse. Dreams like yours can’t be easily explained. I don’t want to put too much emphasis on this, but I get the feeling you’re not telling us everything.” Crosby was approaching the topic of secrets, without really knowing all the details of what was going on in my head.
His hands slithered to grab hold of my ass cheeks with my eyes widening. There was a small gasp of arousal escaping my lips. I could’ve easily pulled him into a darkened corner and mauled his body, with my fingernails leaving their mark. The idea was an intoxicating moment of indecision.
I swallowed hard, licking my lips and stealing glances at his crotch, the head on his shoulders was no longer doing the talking for him. It was rather blatant when he flexed that certain organ stretching the confines of his pants. I made my way down into the waistband, touching the bloated head, getting something sticky on my fingertips.
I brought it to my lips and moved my finger around the shape of my mouth, to apply a cream coating, before sucking on the tip. I never lost eye contact with Crosby and he didn’t try to stop me when I reached all the way in to wrap my hand around the base of his hot equipment. It was merely a teasing gesture and nobody noticed, with the crowd around us in their own little world.
“I have been keeping something from you. It’s not easy to tell you this but your fathers weren’t the heroes you made them out to be. In my dream, they demanded obedience from your mother and she had no choice but to obey. They killed her lover to make an example out of him. I know this is rather shocking to hear but that’s not the whole story,” I mentioned and waited for him to ask the poignant question on the tip of his tongue.
Distracting him with jerking motions of my fist inside his pants was a good way to keep him from getting overheated, with most of the blood running to his lower extremities. It was hard for him to think straight when he was melting under my touch.
“I really didn’t know them well enough to tout their virtues. I’m probably going to regret asking this but I need to know the whole story. Tell me everything and don’t leave anything out. I know you are doing this on purpose and I appreciate the effort but it’s not necessary.” It wasn’t just to distract him, I was having fun feeling him thrust in the enclosed space of my hands.
He was leaking profusely all over my fingers and I purposely took them out of his pants to lick each one individually. His excitement touched me deeply and I stared into his eyes with silent words of encouragement.
A heated argument broke out and I glanced over my shoulder to see Callan brandishing a pool stick.
Chapter Twenty-one
There was no escape from reality and it became quite obvious things were going to turn ugly in a hurry. Callan had gotten a little too carried away with fleecing his marks. They didn’t take kindly to being the butt of his joke and had taken it personally with hostilities inevitable. He was smiling and swinging the pool stick in a fashion that made those approaching less likely to walk straight into the onslaught.
They were biding their time and I could tell that Wesley was itching to lend a hand. Haven had become interested and with careful deliberation made his way over with a beer bottle in his hand. He got a ringside seat, sitting not more than a few feet from where they were currently hashing things out without the need for words.
The crash of broken glass perked my ears and a man stepped into the lion’s den with Callan, grinning from ear to ear. He was a biker with long gray hair and a beard to match. A tattoo of a flaming skull with blood dripping from its eyes was on his shoulder and there was something written on the back of his leather vest but I couldn’t make it out from where I was standing on the dance floor.
Suddenly, without warning, my eyes focused on the emblem on the back of his leather vest and it became vividly clear. He was part of a chapter of Hell’s Angels and they were known to have their finger in many criminal enterprises including drugs and prostitution. Prosecutors had been trying for years to rid their communities of this scourge but they always managed to show up in another chapter in a different part of the continent.
“I don’t like to be cheated. You made a grave error by coming in here tonight. I thought you were just lucky but nobody is that lucky. You played me for a fool and I can’t stand here and let you get away with it. It would show weakness in front of my brothers. No offense, but you need to be taken care of with extreme prejudice.” I could tell the biker gang member was trying to save face but couldn’t think of any other solution than showing off his skills with the broken beer bottle as his only means of a weapon.
“I would say it was beginners luck but I don’t think you would believe me. The only thing that makes you look weak is trying to puff out your chest when you lose. This isn’t going to end well for you. I’m willing to turn the other cheek and we can forget this ever happened,” Callan offered but I had a feeling there was a method to his madness and it became quite apparent when Haven shuffled forward in his chair.
“The only way this ends is with one of us not walking out of here tonight. Let’s not make this any more difficult than it has to be. I’m going to cut you and send you to the emergency room.” His toothy grin was going to be his downfall and he was already choreographing his moves, with Callan simply standing there waiting for him to strike.
It was an interesting talent to make a tense situation. The beer bottle swung and Callan took a step back to avoid the shards of broken glass cutting into his skin. Even a small nick could cause an arterial spray and he would be dead within seconds.
He thrust the back end of the pool stick into the biker’s stomach and swung it around to crack it against his ear in one fluid motion. It was a blur not seen with the naked eye but somehow I could slow it down to slow motion.
This was a brave new world for me and I was walking the path less traveled. My men had my undivided attention but they were blind to what was right in front of their eyes. They didn’t want to see it until it was too late and it was up to me to shield them from the truth. What gave me the right to protect them when they were considered Alpha? I had broken the cardinal rule of getting too close but I couldn’t help it and felt no regret for walking into this unusual relationship with both eyes wide open.
“I thought that might be your answer. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” He said, while glancing in my direction, still holding onto the two pieces of the pool stick which had cracked into two during the fight.
His hands became a lethal whirlwind of movements and he easily brought the man to his knees. Bleeding from his lips, with one tooth hanging loosely in his mouth, he looked dazed and confused but the battle had been won quite convincingly. Callan could’ve left it at that and earned his respect but that wasn’t the main objective. It didn’t surprise me when he spoiled his victory by turning his attention to the biker’s brothers.
Crosby was about to intervene, playing the good brother with the tactical training. I put my hand in front of him and shook my head, giving him the indication I knew exactly what Callan was up to.
“I know this goes against the code but you need to let this play out. He has a plan and even though he hasn’t shared it with us, doesn’t mean it’s not going to work. He wants an all-out brawl to mask the kidnapping of Haven. Watch for your cue,” I advised and could tell how Haven wanted to get into the middle of things but was waiting impatiently with his fingers drumming on the table in frustration.
“Callan's always been a bit unpredictable. The man can be his own worst enemy.” Crosby signaled Wesley and he was already moving through the throngs of people without any untoward movement.
They were soon standing together and then all hell broke loose. People were already a little tense looking for a way to blow off some steam. Drinking and playing games were nothing compared to a good old fashioned fight. The fists were flying, with tables overturned and glasses of beer spilled on the floor. Nobody would remember how it happened and their recollection would be spotty at best. Each story would be embellished, using the influence of alcohol to fuel their need to become the center of attention.
