Page 35 of Hers To Keep
We’re heading out-of-town tonight, just the two of us to our old stomping ground, Killian’s Billiard & Bar, in Pleasant Hills. We’d stop there every once in a while when we’d attend to our usual business dealings in Pleasant Hills, which unfortunately were often. I felt we needed to get out of Hillcrest, away from prying eyes and lurkers waiting to hear secrets to expose. Especially now that someone is after Wesley, blackmailing him with the threat of exposing his corruption and illicit activity. And that someone might try to come after my boys and I, and I won’t let that happen.
I park the car in front of Killian’s near a group of thugs on motorcycles, clearly looking for trouble. Their matching leather jackets all flashing the crest of one of the most ruthless Motorcycle Gangs in the area, the Pleasant Hills Cobras. They watch us as we exit out of my G-Wagon, their glares proving they have no fucking clue who we are, but I recognize some of them, a few of the guys from Pleasant Hills High whom we keep on our payroll. They watch us intently, surely hoping their stares heed a warning to stay out of their turf. Although Killian’s may be in Pleasant Hills, it remains part of our territory.
The leader of the group stands to meet us as we approach the front door, his posse quickly stepping up behind him, arms crossed, patronizing scowls directed at us. This should be fun.
“What brings a couple of pretty boys like you guys out here?” the leader asks, his long dreads reek of cigarettes and sweat; his beard looks like it’s home to some kind of rat’s nest.
“The rich boys thought it was a good night to come out and play, Zeke,” another of the men says, this one with a shaved head and his face completely covered in tattoos.
“Boys, come on, I thought the Cobras showed a touch more hospitality,” I scoff, clearly irritating them more.
“Nah, Ace, these prissy princesses don’t know what that big word means,” Bass mocks as they all step forward, cracking their knuckles tauntingly.
The leader, Zeke, moves toward me, standing right before me. Our foreheads are level with each other. “You’ve got some nerve, boy, coming here to our town and insulting us on our turf.”
“No, you got some nerve, Zeke. Do you have any idea who the fuck you’re talking to?” A mixture of rage and confusion takes over his expression and I see the wheels in his brain turning, trying to figure out what I mean.
“Nah, boy, you don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with,” he sneers, his mouth practically foaming.
“Stand down, Zeke,” a voice shouts from behind the crowd. I immediately recognize the guy walking toward us, Malachi Saint.
“Well, well, Malachi, what brings you out here?” I ask, turning from Zeke to him.
“Just visiting some old friends,” he answers standing before me, wearing the same leather Cobras jacket as the others. I would have never guessed that Kai would be part of the Cobras, but I guess growing up in these slums, there really is no other option.
“Who the fuck is this prick, Saint?” Zeke asks, but Kai is quick to turn and shut him up before I do.
“This prick is Wallace Servite, the prince of darkness of Hillcrest Hills.”
After Kai’s declaration of who I was, Zeke and his crew were quick to back away. Their fake apologies and excuses of notknowing who we were, only pissed me off further. Especially since their half assed apologies were for my Uncle Wesley.
Bass and I went inside. The conversation I had planned was not something I could postpone. They men were smart enough to keep their distance, giving us the privacy we deserve. We headed over to a pool table on the second level of the bar, the crew downstairs eyeing us shrewdly as we played a few rounds. We’ve been here for two hours, but I’ve yet to tell Bass why I’ve really dragged him out here. Not that I’m nervous or worried he won’t understand but saying it out loud makes what I’m about to do all that more real.
“All right, I’m over this. Why the fuck did you bring me out here, Ace?” he asks, dropping the pool stick down against the table after yet again, losing another game to me.
“Come on, don’t be such a sore loser, Bass, and keep your voice down,” I say, turning to look down at the crowded bar. All eyes are glaring at us, obviously pissed by our visit, but they know better than to act out against us. “Those fuckers are just dying to know why we’re really here.”
“I’m dying to know why we’re really here, Ace, so why don’t you come clean. Why are we here?” Ignoring him, I set the table up for another round as Bass moves to grab another pitcher of beer from the red-haired waitress who’s been tending to our needs all night. He’s been flirting incessantly with her in his typical Sebastian Silver way, promising nothing more than a quick fuck in the dirty bathroom downstairs, or outside in the trash covered, dark alley. Sebastian is the man whore of our group. Sure, we all enjoy the company of different girls, never settling down with just anyone or promising anything more than an epic fuck, but Sebastian doesn’t stay with them for more than it takes to get them to come. Then it’s goodbye, move on, and fuck off.
“The Gallows,” I say, cutting down to business, “There’s something shady going on.”
“Well no shit, Ace, it’s a fucking whorehouse,” he mutters sarcastically.
“I’m serious, Bass.” I never told Bass what happened that night Scarlett followed me down to The Gallows. Never mentioned why Macallan left the academy so abruptly. For one, I didn’t think he’d care to know the bastard nearly fucking raped my girl, but I guess it may have been more to protect her privacy and not share something I’m sure no one besides us even knows. But he needs to know. He needs to see what kind of shit my uncle has dragged us into. “About two months ago, Scarlett followed me down to The Gallows by order of Wesley. He wanted her to find out the extent of his power and the extent of my involvement in his corrupt empire.”
Bass turns his attention to me, puzzled by my statement. “She went to The Gallows? Shit, she must have fucking flipped the fuck out,” he says, reaching over and hitting his mark.
“She more than flipped the fuck out. She somehow got taken into the cages, confused for one of their girls, and was bid on and bought only to be taken back to a room, drugged, and nearly raped.” Anger rises in me threatening to consume my thoughts as the memory of finding her with Macallan floods me. The rage of thinking she was willingly giving herself to him, only to find out he’d fucking drugged her and was taking advantage of her, of my Scarlett.
“What the fuck, I thought your uncle said that shit didn’t happen there?” he asks, clearly angry himself at the deal we once made with Wesley. “He swore he never forced his girls to do anything.”
“It was Macallan.” I say, not explaining further. He eyes me quizzically waiting for an explanation. Then speaks when I don’t give him one.
“Okay, what the fuck are you talking about, Ace?”
“Macallan bought her, took her to a room, drugged her with The Devil’s Kiss, and when I walked in after seeing her being taken back there, found him with his mouth and hands all over her fucking body.” I slam my pitcher of beer down on the table, theglass shattering with the force of the impact, beer spilling all over the pool table.
The redhead moves quickly over to us, dropping on her hands and knees, picking up the shards of broken glass, and drying up the beer puddled on the floor. She reaches up trying to wipe the beer that spilled on the crotch of my jeans, but I’m quick to fucking grab her wrist pulling her up to face me.