CUT (New Adult Dark Romance) (20 page)

“What do we do?” DJ asked, a certain amount of uncertainty and fear evident in his voice.

“We make this drop. I’ve set up plane tickets back into LAX. We’ll dump the vehicles and get to the airport. I’ve got some heads to fucking kick in.”

“This was supposed to be it. No more blood!” I said, my voice catching in my throat as my little future unraveled.

“Sweetheart, you know I can’t let this go. The Kings took this beyond personal. They’re coming after my brothers, and they won’t stop unless we bloody their fucking nose.”

“It’s fucked! It’s all fucked. Jude is out there somewhere. The Kings want to kill us. There’s some crazy Mexican gang ready to cut people’s heads off. Don’t tell me you can’t let this go!”

I was screaming inside and out, my body raged as I lay into Black with fists, tears streaming from my face. No. Not this, not again. I’d learned my lesson about broken promises a long time ago.

“Ash, put her in the truck. We’re finishing this goddamned drop Kattlyn, and when it’s over, I’ll make this right with you, I promise.”

Ash didn’t have to do anything. I ran to the truck, settling into the passenger seat as I hyperventilated. Black had me wrapped more than any man ever had. I needed him to stop, but he only knew how to run…

“This club is all he has…” Ash said quietly as he climbed into the drivers seat and fired the truck up. We rolled out as tears streamed down.

“He has me…”

“Maybe someday, that’ll be enough,” Ash replied, reaching over and brushing a tear off my cheek.

I let my purse slip off my shoulder, falling to the seat beside me heavily and drawing my knees up against my chest. The truck turned onto the highway, Black’s van rocketing ahead of us along the black strip of asphalt.

“Maybe.”

The miles ticked off, the little makeshift convoy Blacking off the main road and turning into a quiet ranch. A dark brown sheriff’s office ford bronco pulled out of the way and let us through, blocking the exit as we moved. I shivered in place all the way up to the middle of an empty field, shaking just a bit harder as I saw the men waiting for us in front of their trucks. Six of them, two armed with shotguns, the rest with vicious looking handguns held at their side. Front and center, an older man with white hair drawn slickly back.

Carcetti…

“You don’t want to be going out there…” Ash said, nodding at me as I gripped the door handle, the truck coming to a hard stop. “Something isn’t right here, you don’t go greeting guests with guns drawn.”

Ash reached up, knocking twice on the metal behind his head. A soft reply rang out in the metal…

“What’s going on,” I whispered, wide eyed. “Who’s in the truck?”

“That’s our insurance policy. Just keep your head down, it’s too pretty for this. Count yourself lucky you’re not sitting next to Black. This old truck’s got bulletproof glass. Things are about to go to shit really fast.”

I stopped listening. My hand drew the pistol from my purse automatically, transferring it to my left hand and swinging the door outward. Ash let out a little sound of protest but it was already done. I leaned out past the door, standing on the side rail with the gun hidden as a man raised a shotgun in my direction.

“Black!” I shouted, the fear draining out of my body.

“Get in the truck Kattlyn,” Black called back, stepping carefully out of his van with his hands raised. I wasn’t listening. My ears rang, the world crashing down around me. Ash’s hand gripped my arm, hauling me back up into the seat with unexpected strength.

“You trying to get somebody killed? He’s handling this. Let the man work and maybe we’ll all get out of this in one piece.”

Above me, I could hear something scraping along in the cabover space of the truck. I rolled the window down, ignoring Ash’s protest.

“So this is how you’re gonna repay good service?” Black said, his voice carrying softly in the desert wind.

“You’ve gone soft Black. A little birdy tells me you’re not going to be running our product anymore. Did you think you could just drop things off and walk away? Your father would be ashamed.”

The white haired man paced menacingly around Black, an evil smile plastered on his face.

“I’m not my father. You know the score Carcetti. I’ve been moving the club out of drugs since I took over.”

I glanced over at Ash, his hand pulling a weapon from the edge of the seat. It was larger than a pistol, with a large clip extending out the bottom. My fingers shook against the Beretta in my hand. I’d seen an UZI in movies, never in real life. Ash flashed me a little smile that did nothing to help my nerves. “I fucking love this stuff,” he whispered under his breath. The voices drifted up from below, my eyes swinging forward again. The man was insane…

“You did us a little favor coming here Black. Goddamn shame I can’t let you live. Why don’t you call your little friend there over, and have those two step out of the truck for me? Get them to put down their weapons and I’ll let them walk away.”

Carcetti nodded toward DJ who had climbed out of his vehicle. His hands had been in the air the entire time as one of the Italians kept a gun pointed in his direction.

“And what about me, Carcetti?” Black asked, drawing attention back.

“Your head is worth more than your body. Now tell them to put down their weapons or I’ll start by putting a bullet in your fucking girlfriend up there in the truck.”

“I can’t do that Carcetti. You know if you don’t pay for this drop the Los Locos will gut you,” Black shouted angrily at the circling man. “They will hunt you down, and they will fucking end you.”

“So dramatic Black. All the Locos care about is getting their money, and I’ve already paid them every last penny just this-morning. You’re nothing but the middle man. We’ve made new contacts for shipping and receiving. I don’t need you.”

“In that case, look into my eyes,” Black said, turning his head to stare at the tall elderly Italian with the silver hair and the impeccable suit. “Look deep Carcetti. Look deep inside and know you’re already dead.”

The white haired man started laughing, a deep penetrating laugh as his hand reached into the suit jacket and pulled a long barreled pistol free.

“Black… I’ve been dealing with your bullshit for too long. You bit the and that fucking feeds you, and this is your just reward. There’s just one last thing,” Carcetti said, the grin widening on his face. “Jude wanted me to say hello.”

Black must have flashed recognition, because a deep laugh overtook Carcetti again, building with every breath. He wasn’t the only one laughing. The whole lot of them were laughing. A great cacophony of laughter rolled up, and I saw it even if they didn’t. Black was laughing right along with them. He was laughing louder than any of them.

And the world ended. Explosions went off above me like so many fireworks. The windshield flashed white but didn’t break, a bullet lodged in the glass just in front of my face. Ash pulled me down on the seat, gunshots ringing out from every angle. He kicked the door open and rolled, his old weathered body falling out of the truck with a sickening sound, the sudden buzz of machine death rattling out of his firearm.

Get out there…
I thought, my brain fighting my reflexes. Every part of my body wanted to curl up into a little ball, but I knew what I had to do. Black was out there. He needed me. My fingers wrapped tightly around the Beretta and I reached out, pulling the door open and stepping out onto the edge of the truck.

Carnage met me.

Seeing the two dead men inside the clubhouse couldn’t prepare me for this. High powered weapons had dropped most of the Italians, and Black was crouched down next to Carcetti’s body, pulling something from his bloody suit as a burst of Ash’s submachine gun felled a limping man trying to get away from the killing field.

“Two more!” Ash shouted and my head swiveled. The sheriff’s Bronco was bouncing across the field, a man stretched out the passenger seat with a long black shotgun aimed toward Black. I didn’t have time to think, only to react. The Beretta rose up, lining the iron sight on the brown and gold just as I’d done so many times at the gun range. There, I’d imagined Jude, a little fantasy to get me through my days… Now, I couldn’t see anything.

A stream of bullets poured out to the tune of my scream as I pulled the trigger wildly. The truck swerved, lifting up and crashing down on its side, the man hanging out the side smashed into the ground as an eery silence fell. The only sound was a sputtering engine that quickly died.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart… Remind me never to piss you off.”

I looked to the left, Black staring up as my finger kept right on pulling the trigger on the long since empty pistol.

“I just killed a cop…. Black… Two cops! Oh my god…”

He was moving toward me slowly, his damaged leg tender with every step. 

“Those are Carcetti’s men. They stopped being cops a long time ago,” Black said, reaching out for me.

“I don’t want this… I don’t want any of this Black,” I sobbed, drawing myself in hard to his embrace.

“You’re part of this now, for better or for worse,” he said, pulling the gun free of my death grip. “Get your head on straight.”

I jumped at the sound of the metal door on the back of the moving truck rolling up, three men stepping round the edge of the vehicle slowly with guns drawn and swinging across the field. I recognized Dig even with the handkerchief tied round his face, the others turned before I could identify them.

“Ash, you ok old man?”

A coughing laugh came up from the ground on the far side of the truck. “Snapped an arm trying to play Rambo.”

My head spun round as Black held me, looking toward the other vehicle.

“DJ!”

Black let me go as my legs carried me toward the man slumped over the hood. It was only once I closed in that I heard his breathing.

“You hit?” Black shouted from behind me. DJ Lifted himself up painfully.

“I’ll be fine. Fucker grazed me.”

I stared at his side, a plume of red pouring out from a slice in his jacket.

“Let Dig take your ride. Get in the truck and get that shit wrapped up before you bleed out,” Black said, having come close enough to see the damage.

I turned round to Black, a new panic setting in as I listened to his words.

“He knows Jude…” Black whispered. “We’re in some deep shit. Least now I know who’s talking to the fucking Kings.”

“Won’t they come looking for us?” I asked, staring at the bodies spread out across the field.

“The Italians? Don’t you worry sweetheart. Carcetti is just another in a long line of middle men. Nobody wants to know the whole supply chain. Too much exposure. There’s no honor in thieves anymore. Anybody still breathing from Carcetti’s crew is going to be busy stuffing his pockets with the leftovers and getting the hell out of Texas.”

I helped DJ off the bike. He threw an arm over me, walking slowly back toward the truck. A part of me felt sorry for him, empathetic to the pain. The other part of me needed this little embrace. His arm around me was the only thing that felt safe. I looked back at Black as he surveyed the horizon, a smile plastered across his face.

He’ll never change…
I thought, my conscience playing devils advocate.

Black pulled a cellphone from his pocket, dialing a number and lifting it to his ear. I listened quietly as I walked.

“Drycleaning for pickup. Eight bags. Blue and red ink spilled all over it. Yes. I don’t fucking care what it costs.”

His voice drifted as we closed in on the truck, nothing but a series of quick directions to the ranch.