Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance (25 page)

She stole him, Kayla thought. She stole my beauty and my love; each twist of the mind was another stab of fresh pain to her chest. She pulled up a program on her desktop, zoning out a moment. She then began to say out loud individual words; the first fingers of sunlight pouring through her window. But all she could feel was an ache in her bones; one whisper of flame in the darkness that was her mind kept flickering to life.

Why doesn’t anyone want me?

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Luke

The wind howled in the twilight of morning, the sun only just starting to crown the horizon of Sequim. There was fire churning deep in his belly. Why would he do this? Luke could feel the desperate ache in his knuckles as he sped down to Robert’s apartment. It had to be him, it had to. Why else would Able say what he said? Needles of doubt pricked away at his psyche, was what Jasmine said truly what his brother had breathed in his dying breath?.

Pulling up to the street in which Robert resided, Luke killed his engine a couple of houses down from where he needed to be. Where Able’s killer was hiding. You’re nothing more than a cockroach, he thought. The hour of twilight still shrouded Luke as he swaggered top heavy to the traitor’s dinghy little house; the outside was old and it’s white paint chipped away, most residents had probably used it as a whore house and a crack den. Luke was ready to bring the value down even further, how much would homicide tick down the price of something already next to worthless? Even from here he could hear the thump of bass and the thick, grainy mids of guitar.

Stepping to the front door quietly, he placed his hand on the brass knob. Surely he wouldn’t be
that
stupid with a neighborhood like this, Luke turned his head both ways and then shook the handle.

Locked.

Luke put a hand to his face and stroked before retreating a couple of steps and looking over the yard. Grass was overgrown and there were suspicious holes scattered about, leaves and trash – mostly cans of Pabst – made their home wherever they pleased. Glimpsing the shed, Luke stalked over to it and gave the door a quick check. He felt the hot licks of anger against his chest again and moved over to the side of the shed, spying a couple of tools that the man must have been too lazy to return.

Going past the shovel, Luke procured the crowbar partially hidden amongst the thick grass. He weighed it in his hands and gave an absent nod of approval before creeping to the side of Robert’s house. He could see the blue light of Robert’s TV coming from out the window, him and two whores sitting on the couch making out, taking swigs of a bottle of Jack. Twin, fiery serpents rose up Luke’s back and he doubled back the way he came, to another window where there was only darkness. Music’ll do fine for cover, thanks Mick Mars. Luke brought the rusted crowbar to the windowsill and shoved it into place, applying a great force. Splinters of egg-white wood broke off as the window violently jerked upwards.

Waiting for a moment of time, Luke listened as best he could to see if any of the three might have heard something. Dropping the crowbar into the dark room, his pulse began to race and he pushed the window up all the way, as far as it would permit, propping his hands against the windowsill and pushing himself up; his muscles straining from the force – he hiked his legs up and swung them inside.. From there Luke cautiously slipped his person inside of the dark room, landing soundly on his boots.

Luke picked up the crowbar and felt his way blindly about the room, his free hand coming across something round and hard, it was no bigger than his fist. Luke picked it up and played with it briefly, ruminating what it might be – his eyes straining to glimpse it properly. He realized then, what it was, and chuckled to himself, putting the paperweight inside of his jacket pocket.

When he finally found the door, he carefully turned the knob – his head heated and his muscles screaming for him to stop being so slow, so cautious. His breathing began to quicken, the image of Able’s bloodied ‘face’ swimming through his mind’s eye.

He opened the door slightly, peering out of it. They would have direct line of sight of Luke, but the three were distracted – it wasn’t ideal but he knew that he could make this work. Taking one last breath . . . Luke swung the door open and strode forward, slipping his hand inside of his bomber jacket and producing the paperweight as he went towards the three. They hadn’t even noticed him yet.

When he finally took that first step into the light of the living room, and he wound up his arm – releasing the round weight with a pent up fury, the three immediately turned to face him. The two girls were equal parts scream, equal parts gasp and equal parts skank. Robert had the bottle of JD to his lips, but he nearly dropped it when the paper weight soared into the TV; crashing into the screen and making a horrible noise, the shards of glass zipping through the air as Luke continued onwards.

The girls were already getting up when Luke pointed a finger at Robert, his crowbar dragging against the hardwood floor: “Get the fuck out, say nothing,” he boomed, the two girls running for their lives.

Robert clumsily tried to rise to his feet, “My fucking TV man,” he waved a hand at the dead entertainment screen. Yeah, rest in pieces like your owner. “You-you, you fuckin’ come in my house? In
my
house and you—“

“Shut the hell up and sit your traitorous ass down,” Luke commanded, the winds of wrath filled his sails. His hand gripped the crowbar so tight that his knuckles turned white, it stung to hold it as such – but feeling the pain was better than feeling the nothingness and sadness.

Robert did not relent. “No!” He threw his arms out, only a couple of feet away from Luke.

“Do
not
make me repeat myself.”

He narrowed his eyes and stumbled in place without having moved, “You can’t just come in here and scare my girls and
break
my fu—“

With one single, fluid snap of his leg, Luke kicked the man back down onto the couch – a wave of satisfaction rolling through him, paired with the familiar feeling of hate.

Robert crashed into the red couch, spilling his bottle of Jack all over the place and screwing up his face in utter surprise. It was disgusting to even have to glimpse the man’s worm-like lips.

“You will sit your ass down,” Luke berated, posturing aggressively with the crowbar in hand, “you’ll answer my god damn questions,” he continued, pacing around the room slowly, but never taking his eyes off of the man. “And you
will
pay, if you lie to me, Robert, if you lie to me?” His voice was cold as the chill of the grave. Luke put a foot on the couch between the man’s legs, getting dangerously close and invading the man’s space. “I will take this,” he turned the crowbar in his hand, admiring it for a heartbeat, “and I will get it
very
acquainted with this,” he tapped the scum’s cheek with the curved end of the crowbar.

Robert sucked in a deep breath, sinking as far as he could into the couch – his disgusting and pasty skin glistening with a putrid film of nervous, drunken sweat. He shook his head, mumbling a noise of disagreement.

“Do you want to count your teeth Robert?”

“W-what? No!” He shifted, the fear was in his eyes.

It was proving an impossible task to not take sadistic pleasure in toying with the traitor. Luke pressed the crowbar deep into the man’s face, “I asked you a QUESTION,” he tapped the side of the man’s face. “Do. You. Want to count. Your teeth? Now I know you’re not too good with numbers, but what the hell.”

“Come on, Luke,” he pleaded, looking upwards. “You’re acting crazy,” he said, “the Knights are gonna have your ass for this. You want a fucking mark?”

Luke shot a hand out at the man’s neck, wringing it like some kind of doll. His blood felt thick now, and his head heavy; for every time that he blinked, he swore he saw his brother’s eyes.

Dropping the bottle of JD, two hands came up helplessly to try and pry off the ones around his neck, his throat gurgling incoherent words and his eyes furious – searching for some kind of reason.

Gripping the traitor’s neck tighter, Luke knew that the man had to have known what this was all about. “I want to know why you did it,” he susurrated, easing up on his hold over the man’s neck.

“I don’t know,” he struggled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Liar.

It only made the fire in Luke’s chest brighter, “You know,” he growled, “the least you could do is tell me
why
before I brain you. Why’d you do it?” Luke rattled the man like a toy, the veins in his neck bulging, “why did you kill my brother?” The words came out in a choke.

The traitor’s face screwed up into something of a genuine surprise and disgust, “What?!” He pawed at Luke’s hand, “go screw yourself. I didn’t do shit.”

Luke let the man go slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on the point in which he wished to strike. The whole of his body was begging him to hit the man, only an inkling of doubt skirting across the surface of his mind. The heavy bronze ring pressing against his chest felt ten times its weight.

Robert licked his lips and rubbed his neck, “Come on. Someone put this shit in your head bro? Who said it? Trusting some banger over me.”

With a single motion, Luke punched the man square on his cheek, feeling bone against bone and hearing a satisfying thud as the blow connected.

Robert grunted in pain, his body jerking in reaction; he looked back at Luke, hurt and pissed and confused. His lip was bloodied now.

“His last words were your callsign,” Luke hissed, “said that you couldn’t be trusted.”

“I don’t know,” Robert offered, “I-I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he pleaded, “I swear,
I swear
.”

Luke searched the man’s eyes, the fire running freely through his veins – was he telling the truth? He didn’t have a motive, not one that Luke could understand and he wasn’t always . . . like this. “I should put you in the ground,” he whispered, sharp as knives.

“Then do it,” Robert replied, “everyone’ll see what an idiot and a drunk you are, that you’re a coward,” ironic coming from a man whose breath reeked of liquor, “you were never half the man your brother was, you pussy.”

“Only coward I see here is you,” darkness filled the holes in his heart.

Robert howled like a hyena, “Me?”

The crowbar felt good.

“You’re the one who won’t take any
risks
,” the bottle came hard towards Luke’s face.

Defending himself, Luke stopped it with his free hand, gripping tight the man’s wrist and pulling the glass from him – his muscles straining before chucking it over his shoulder.

Mighty, powerful, the strip of iron flashed hard against the man’s face.

Bloodied teeth escaped his mouth in disgusting, horrible splinters.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Jasmine

The weight on her heart was suffocating. I should tell him, Jasmine ruminated, I mean – we, we weren’t together but . . . she held her phone, staring at it whilst leaning against the wall just outside the breakroom. The strings of her heart tugged wildly as she scrolled over to ‘Augustus’ and started to type a message – she eyed the Dean of Medicine coming down the hall.

Hey, sorry about last night but I fell asleep. Hope you’re doing better, guess you’re still not coming in today.

Now wasn’t the time, if I tell him now, he’ll relapse. She hated viewing herself so highly like that; maybe it wouldn’t matter at all? Maybe Augustus would even be glad to be rid of her, that was a depressing, if not sobering thought. Either way, now just wasn’t the time – or at least, that was what she had convinced herself of. She pocketed her cell and turned to face Corey, giving her signature smirk.

The floor susurrated beneath the man’s every step and he nodded his head at Jasmine, stopping by her. He held a blue binder to his person, “Doctor Giuseppe,” he stated, “what a pleasant surprise.”

It doesn’t feel pleasant, “Just here to make my day a little happier?” She said, sweet as the songbird, crossing her arms.

Waving a hand nonchalantly he replied, “Nobody’s day starts happy here,” only when it ends, “I might as well tell you since I’ve got you here, but I talked to Janet and we reviewed some things. What you told me before checks out,” Corey explained.

Jasmine internally sighed with relief, “Good to hear, did you think so low of my integrity that I’d really lie?” She felt a stab in her gut at the irony.

The Dean smiled, “No you’ve shown yourself to be a reliable and trustworthy
employee
,” why did he say it like that? “I’ve decided not to temporarily suspend you for letting your fellow do something so stupid with your pad.” Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.

“Oh?” Jasmine replied, “I mean, are you sure?” She knew that he wouldn’t reneg, this way it seemed better – that she would be okay and willing to accept the punishment. “I did mess up.”

“No no,” Corey insisted, “I won’t be taking any action against you
personally
,” he informed. Something’s not right.