Reckless Love (Satan's Prophets MC, Book 2) (Satan's Prophets MC Series) (14 page)

“Yes, I do. And let me tell you right now, if you do anything to mess up her happiness, I swear I will beat you over that thick skull of yours with a frying pan.”

Charlie wasn’t too thrilled to learn what was going on, but seeing Renee happy for a change made his heart light. He decided he had to get over his dislike of Mick and let it go already.

Renee was up in her bedroom humming to herself on this Friday night while getting dressed. Her room was in disarray with tops, pants, and different-colored sweaters strewn about. Susanna strolled down the hall past Renee’s room and heard her humming. She peeked into the room through the partially opened door. “My, aren’t we looking pretty! I take it Mick is coming for you soon?”

“Susanna, I was just going to call you. How do I look?” Renee asked excitedly, standing in front of a full-length mirror. “I want to wear something Mick will like. Do these grey slouch socks look okay over these black leggings?” Renee bent down to pick up a white tank top and held it up in front of her. “Or do you think I should wear this tank top instead of the grey with a black shirt over it?”

“You look better than just okay. Don’t worry so much! I think you could wear a burlap bag and Mick would love it,” Susanna replied. “Where are you two headed tonight?”

“Mick is taking me for a nice drive up to Vestal to an Italian restaurant he wants to try. I told him if he keeps feeding me like he is, I’ll be as wide as the side of a house.” Renee’s eyes sparkled with happiness. “He said he wouldn’t care—more to hang onto.”

Susanna walked over to sit down on the bed and patted the spot next to her. “I take it things are going well between you two?”

Renee sat down. “Yes,” she replied in a light, bubbly voice. She grabbed onto Susanna’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “And I have my friends to thank for it! We have long talks, and Mick is explaining club life to me, and it really isn’t as bad as I thought.” All of a sudden, Renee’s face became a hard, determined expression. “I realize it can be dangerous at times, but when I saw how Holly lives her life separate from the club, well, I think it can work for us too. At least, I want to try.”

“Well, then,” Susanna gave a satisfied sigh. “I’m very happy for you!”

Renee jumped up when she heard the doorbell ring. She went to the mirror again to put on her favorite cherry lip gloss and check her hair. Aunt Jenny yelled up to Renee. “Mick is here, honey.”

When Renee walked downstairs, Mick was sitting on a chair holding Michael while talking to her dad. She knew her dad was really trying to accept Mick for her sake, but she also knew that he still had his doubts. Their conversation sounded friendly enough and actually made Renee chuckle. The weather seemed to be their favorite topic of conversation whenever Mick came over. 

Mick eyed Renee from her silky auburn hair down to her sexy black leggings as he walked over to her. He felt himself getting hard. “You look really good, babe. Ready to go?”

Mick grabbed her hand and they walked out to his truck. He lifted her up and put her on the seat. He patted the spot next to him for Renee to move closer when he got in. “Move over, darlin’. I want you sitting next to me.” He adjusted her seatbelt and swung his arm around her shoulders.

Mick looked so hot dressed in a black t-shirt with his jeans and black boots, Renee felt like a giddy teenager sitting next to him. And he smelled so good, just like Drakkar Noir cologne, one of her favorite scents out of all the colognes her dad sold in his store.

The drive took close to an hour, but Renee didn’t mind. Having Mick so close felt wonderful. She wished she could stay like this forever. The Italian restaurant looked so quaint with its red-and-white checkered tablecloths covering the little square tables. The dimly lit interior with candles burning in red, glass votive cups on the tables made for a romantic atmosphere.

There was music playing softly in the background and Renee felt special. Soon, she was swaying to the music and smiling. “I love this place, Mick. Thank you for bringing me here.”

When the pretty waitress came over to take their order, Renee couldn’t help but notice how her eyes lingered on Mick. Suddenly, she felt fat and dumpy again. Just then, as if he knew, Mick grabbed onto Renee’s hand and rubbed his thumb slowly back and forth over her palm. It was these little things that Mick always did to make her feel special, and she loved it so much.

When Mick took Renee home, he walked her to the door. “Sorry, babe, can’t hang around tonight. I gotta get over to the clubhouse soon. Striker called me earlier and wants me there.”

He wrapped his strong arms around her to pull her close. Renee leaned in closer, desire flooding her body. She laced her fingers through his hair and lifted up her face hoping for a kiss. Mick lowered his head and kissed Renee so tenderly, she thought she would melt at his feet.

After dropping off Renee, Mick headed over to the clubhouse and wondered what was so important for Striker to call him.

He walked over to the bar and stood there looking around. Mick noticed Bubba and some brothers were up from Blackwood, New Jersey. They were talking with Striker and, from the narrowed eyes and frowns, it looked like a serious conversation was going on.

Striker motioned for Mick to join them. Mick walked over, smiled, and fist-bumped Bubba. Mick noticed the troubled look on his face and his smile wavered. “Hey man, good to see ya. What brings you up here again?”

Bubba grabbed Mick in a bear hug. “You ugly motherfucker, good to see ya, too!” Stepping away from him, Bubba became less animated, and he grimaced. His voice became more serious. “But I don’t think you’re gonna be happy to see me when I tell you why I’m here. I came up to discuss a little problem that may be heading your way.”

Mick sat down on a barstool and yelled for a beer. Taking a pack of smokes out of his pocket, he lit one up before asking, “Yeah? What kind of problem?”

Bubba yelled over to Rags, who came over and sat down next to Mick. “Tell Mick what the word is out on the streets down in Jersey.”

Hearing that there was news from down Jersey made Mick’s stomach clench. He knew it couldn’t be anything good.

Rags poured a shot and handed it to Mick. “Better drink it down, bro. You’re gonna need it.”

Mick clenched his teeth. He felt like grabbing Rags and shaking him. “Just spit it the fuck out already.”

Rags figured there was no way to soften the blow, so he let it rip. “Word is, the drug cartel’s furious with Carlo’s disappearance. Their drug trade route is disrupted and the big boys from Delaware have been nosing around. Carlo wasn’t too well-liked, from what I’ve heard, but he had all the right contacts and kept the cash flow coming in steady. The kingpin himself, Santos, sent in his men and they’re checking into reestablishing the route. They’re recruiting men, more and more every day. You
do
know that Carlo was his cousin, don’t you? And they are asking questions, lots of questions, one in particular: where is Carlo? And if they don’t like the answers, people are getting beat up pretty bad.”

“Fuck!” Mick swore, his eyes looking from Rags to Striker. “I had hoped these guys would have gotten the message we sent by wiping out Carlo and his boys and stayed out of Blackwood. Our tracks are covered pretty good, but these men, they’re like bloodhounds, and once they pick up a scent … they don’t give up.”

Striker rubbed the back of his neck and let out a resigned sigh. “I thought we were done with this drug cartel bullshit. Hopefully we’re out of the picture for good, but we’ll be prepared just in case. No worries, brother. If this Santos does come nosing around here, this time we’ll wipe out his whole fuckin’ cartel, not just his little gang of playmates.”

Bubba nodded his agreement.

“Well.” Striker stood up. “Nothin’ we can do about anything tonight. Might as well drink and light up a few.”

Bubba burst out in laughter. “
Now
you’re talkin’! Thought you’d never come to your senses.” He waved his arm at Rags. “Open the fuckin’ door and let em’ in!” Bubba shot Striker an annoyed look. “It’s a sad thing when I have to bring my own entertainment.”

Striker scowled. “If your boys didn’t wear my girls out, there would be more of them here.”

The door opened and the brothers watched as a line of scantily-clad whores walked in. The jukebox came alive and it was turned up louder. The girls started gyrating to the music, enticing the men with their sexy moves. The brothers all cheered and grabbed onto a girl. When one of the girls approached Striker and started rubbing his crotch, he let her fondle him for a few minutes, enjoying the sensations, before he came to his senses and told her to take a hike. The girl rubbed harder and whispered in his ear, “You sure, baby? From what I feel, you’re in bad need of my mouth down there.” She started nipping gently at his neck.

Striker took a close look at her face, then thought of Holly at home with his son. He was mighty tempted, but he’d never cheated on Holly and wouldn’t start now. He turned the girl around and pushed her away toward another one of the brothers. “There’s plenty here for ya to help out, honey. Thanks anyway.” He winked and walked over to the bar.

“Man, you don’t know what you just turned down. Sandy is one of the best pipe cleaners we got in that whole bunch,” Bubba ribbed him.

JD, Drifter, and Mick came over to join Striker at the bar. Bubba taunted them harder. “Since when did you men turn into boy scouts?” He yelled over his shoulder as he walked away, “Nothin’ better than a whore on speed! I’m gonna get me some of that wild, hot pussy, better than sitting here with a bunch of fuckin’ deadheads.”

Striker watched as Bubba went over to a black-haired, pleasingly plump whore and nuzzled his head between her large tits. “Fucker really knows how to rub it in, don’t he?”

‘Yeah,” agreed Drifter. “My dick’s so hard, I could break a fuckin’ cinderblock with it,” he said in a strained voice. He nodded to a table upon which a girl was dancing totally nude. “Fuck,” Drifter complained. “Good thing I carry a supply of rubbers with me. Gonna need one on my dick, getting a blow job from these whores.”

Striker and the guys laughed. Mick slugged down his beer and banged the empty bottle onto the bar. “I’m going home. Catch ya tomorrow.” Mick fist-bumped his bros and headed towards the door.

JD followed close behind wanting to talk to Mick, stopping him just outside. “I’m not mentioning any of this shit to Jaz, at least not yet, ‘til we know for sure what’s going on.”

Mick agreed. “I hear ya, bro. Let’s just hope they don’t come nosing around here.”

JD nodded to Mick and headed home. He walked into his bedroom and found Jaz fast asleep. He stood there watching her sleep so peacefully. If her father were alive, he would shoot the dumb fucker himself. Stealing drug money from Carlo and his gang and thinking he could get away with it? Putting Jaz right in the path of Carlo’s vengeance wanting the money back? He had hoped it was all over, but now, his gut told him differently.

The window curtains were pulled back to let in sunlight, but gloom was hovering all around the tiny woman lying in the bed. Anna was so frail with a thin appearance that mocked the vibrant, energetic woman she once was. Her thick, brown hair that used to shine was thinned out and had turned dull and brittle. She lost so much weight that her eyes and cheekbones were sunken in and her shoulder blades were protruding.

Robert was sitting by his mother’s bedside. She was dying. He knew this day would come, but didn’t think it would be so soon. Ever since his mother was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer, it was like she just gave up and accepted the inevitable. She opted for no treatment. Robert begged her to get help, but she insisted she just wanted to live out her life as best as she could without the harsh chemo. Her voice sounded so feeble and tired when she spoke that it crushed Robert’s heart.

“Robert, open the top drawer of my dresser and bring me the yellow envelope.” Robert hurried to do as she asked. Anna watched him walked away and thought back to the luckiest day of her life: when she took him in, a newborn from a young girl. Anna never forgot the feeling of complete happiness as she was handed the precious little bundle. She didn’t care about any of the circumstances surrounding how the little baby boy came about; she and her husband opened up their hearts and home to him.

He handed her the envelope and wondered what was so important that she needed to show him. “Open it up,” she said. Robert pulled out a thick, handwritten journal that was slightly yellowed with age and warped from frequent entries. He tried to hand it to her, but she pushed his hand away.

“No. You keep that. It’s for you. You’ve known since you were a young boy that you were adopted.” Robert shook his head yes. “In there is everything. I wrote it all down from the day your birthmother, Jenny Phillips, came to us pregnant with you, until the day she left after having placed you in my arms. I know you never wanted to know who your birthmother was, but I want you to have that journal. Maybe someday, when I am gone, you will feel differently.”

Robert shook his head no. “You’re my mother, the only one I ever wanted and needed.” He shrugged. “She didn’t want me, so why would I ever want to find her? The only thing I’m thankful for is that she gave me to you.”

His mother shook her head sadly. “Don’t be so quick to judge, son. Sometimes, people do what they think is best for their child.” She nodded her head to the envelope. “I just wanted to give you the opportunity to know about her, if you ever decide you want to look her up.” She let out a huge sigh and her eyes lost their sparkle as she shook her head slowly at Robert. “So many wonderful memories, so little time left…”

Robert reached out his larger, masculine hand to her small, frail one and she grabbed onto it and smiled weakly. “My son. Remember, I love you with all my heart.”

“I love you too, mother. I couldn’t have hoped for better parents than you and dad.”

She sighed and slowly closed her sleepy eyes. Robert leaned down to kiss his sleeping mother on her forehead and sat there for a long time watching her sleep. After a while, the journal felt like it was burning into his hand. He got up and walked out of the room, heading down the hallway to his bedroom. He opened the door, looked down at the journal one last time, thought about his birthmother for a minute, then flung it at the wastebasket, but missed.

* * *

“I’m sorry about your mother, Robert. If there is anything you need, you just let me know.” William Guzzi, the head of the Drug Enforcement Agency, patted him on the back. “I hate to do this to you now, but soon as you’re up to it, come and see me. Something’s come up and we need you.”

Robert watched him walk away, then stood there stoically, staring down at his mother’s casket waiting to be lowered into the dark, dank ground next to his dad’s.
I was lucky to have had such good, loving parents,
he thought as he placed the bouquet of red roses on top of the coffin. At least he could thank his birthmother for giving him to two wonderful people, if she didn’t want to raise him herself. The gravedigger approached him silently and touched his shoulder. Robert knew they were waiting to get their job done. He nodded and walked away.

Robert walked into the tall, gray building that housed the department of the DEA at exactly nine o’ clock two days later. Joe, the company security man, lifted his head up from the six screens that sat in front of him. “Robert, good morning. That a new bike
you rode in on? Looks like a good ride, but I think you’d better check the back tire—looks a little low.”

“Hey, Joe. I hope you don’t have cameras in the bathrooms,” Robert scowled. “I mean, give us some privacy, at least.”

Joe just smiled back smugly. “Let’s put it this way: don’t jack off in there.”

Robert burst out laughing. “Thanks, Joe. I’ll keep that in mind.”

William’s personal secretary eyed him up and down, just about licking her lips. Robert was used to being eye candy to women. His slightly darker skin from his Hispanic heritage, combined with his black hair pulled back and tied, and his neatly trimmed goatee and dark eyes, gave him a devilish but sexy look. His six-foot-two height along with his well-muscled body complete with tattoos covering both his arms was the perfect combination to let him blend in with the most dangerous of criminals.

“I believe William is expecting me. Tell him Robert is here.”

The receptionist buzzed the intercom button. She smiled and told Robert to go right in. Robert’s eyes took in the luxurious office with the plush burgundy leather furniture and the huge oak desk cluttered with stacks of files on it. He gazed at the windows that ran from the ceiling to the floor. In the corner of the room was a bar with bottles of liquor, and Robert thought a shot of bourbon would hit the spot right then.

William wasn’t a tall man and the huge office seemed to swallow him up. He was standing looking out the tall glass window with his back to the Robert. William turned around. “Come in, Robert, and close the door behind you. Sorry, man. I wouldn’t bother you, especially so soon after your mother’s burial, but time is crucial.”

Robert didn’t like the ominous tone to his voice. He sat down in a chair and waited. For what, he knew he’d soon find out.

William walked over to the black leather swivel chair behind his desk and sat down. He grabbed a file folder from the heap on his desk, opened it up, turned it around and laid it flat.

“I won’t beat around the bush. The department needs your help. It’s time for you to go undercover again as Roberto. Our plan is going along smoothly, and with your help, we got Carlo out of the picture. It was genius, the way we set up the Satan’s Prophets to meet up with Carlo. That went over so well, especially since our agents never witnessed any disappearances, but as far as they were concerned, good riddance. By the time our agents got to the town’s celebration, the motorcycle club was accounted for too.” William smiled. “If they only knew they were helping the feds to bust up the drug trade that’s headed by Santos himself. This,” he said, pointing to the large picture that took up the first page, “is Santos. Carlo’s cousin. Word is, he’s poking his head out of the hole he’s been buried in. He’s furious about his cousin Carlo’s disappearance and how the drug route was disrupted. I hear he’s out for blood. We need you to reappear. Sorry, but you have the perfect excuse for being missing. You show up as one of Carlo’s gang and explain how you were called home to your mother’s deathbed. Hopefully he’ll buy it. You’ll have to get into his inner circle and convince him you knew nothing of his cousin’s plan and why he is missing. We’ve got to keep him running around in circles and wait for him to slip up and then, hopefully, get the chance to nab him. Boom! Once we’ve got him, our boys will make him talk. You’ll be our man inside. We’ll feed you the right info to tell him as we go along. Any questions?”

“Yeah. When do I need to suddenly reappear?” Robert couldn’t wait to get back into action. After all, this was a role he had played before, and he played it well.

“As soon as you can get down to Jersey. We’ve got your usual car ready and waiting for you.” The receptionist came in carrying two mugs of steaming black coffee and set them down on the desk. Robert settled back in his chair thinking this was just the thing he needed to get him out of the sad stupor he was in since his mother’s death. After they hashed out some details, William got up to shake his hand.

“Welcome back, Roberto.”

* * *

The warehouse down in Blackwood looked deserted when Roberto pulled into the lot in his Black Cadillac a day later. Suddenly, the big garage door opened and out walked three men who eyed him up suspiciously.

Roberto parked his car and got out. He walked towards the men steadily. “Hey, man. Where the fuck is everyone? I leave for a while and come back to unfamiliar faces? What’s goin’ on here? Where’s Carlo?”

One Hispanic broke away from the others and walked up and got into his face.

“Who the fuck are you? What do you want? This is private property and you’re trespassing.”

“Carlo can tell you who I am. Where is he?”

“Carlo’s not here.” He drew his gun and pointed it at Roberto’s belly. “I’ll not ask you again. Who the fuck
are
you?”

“Roberto.” He held his arms out in front of him. “Man, take it easy. I’ve been away for a spell, but I’m back now. The boys can identify me. Where’s Roman? Miguel? They know me.”

“There’s no Roman or Miguel here, either.” He narrowed his eyes, squinting at Roberto. “Wanna tell me where you were and why you were away
for a spell?
”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but my mother died. Had to go home and see to a proper burial and all that stuff.”

Luis studied Roberto’s face. “There is one man here who maybe can identify you. Enrico, tell Juan to get out here.”

Juan came walking out of the warehouse two minutes later. “What’s up, Luis?”

Luis waved his gun around and pointed it back at Roberto. “Do you know this man?”

“Si, si.” Juan walked over to Roberto and slapped him on the back. He lowered his voice so no one else could hear. “Amigo, where the hell you been? Lots of strange shit goin’ on. Come on in and I will tell ya what I know.”

Roberto breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was fortunate someone from the old gang was still alive.

Juan nodded to the others. “It’s okay, Luis, he’s one of us.”

Luis walked up to Roberto and smiled lewdly. “Too bad, amigo. Me and my friends would have liked to have some fun with a pretty boy like you. They would hold you down while I fucked you, long and hard,” he leered, showing his tobacco-stained teeth. “Maybe you would have liked that, huh,
amigo
?”

Roberto drew back his fist and let it fly. Blood poured out of Luis’s nose. Then, quick as lightning, Roberto hit him again. When Luis was lying on the ground, Roberto spit on him and walked away.

“Oh, Jesus, Roberto. You just made enemies with a mean one. Luis would cut his own mother’s heart out and not shed a tear.” Juan grabbed his arm, “Come. Let’s go into the warehouse.” Roberto looked back to see Luis slowly rising from the ground. Luis’s stare back at him was deadly.