Bronx: The Lost Boys MC #3 Page 11

  I should have stopped them.

  It was the first, and only, time I had ever had any thoughts of bucking against the decisions of The Lost Boys. But in this moment, I felt like we had gotten it very wrong. Collateral damage never suited us. And yet, we seemed to be collecting it like lint rollers lately.

  “Shit,” I murmured as I made my way toward the elevator.

  And I could have sworn I heard Freya crying off in the distance.

  Sixteen

  Freya

  I sniffled as I wiped at my tears. I was furious with the situation. My father kept calling my phone, and I was genuinely afraid to pick up. I didn’t want to deal with that fight. Especially since I was upset with Bronx and the fight we’d just had. My body still trembled from the pleasure we had experienced together. I mean, hell, I still felt our intermingled juices dripping down my thighs!

  Not the time to be talking with my father.

  I walked into the bathroom and ripped off my dress and hopped into the shower. I wanted to scrub that man from my skin. I wasn’t a child. They didn’t need to be calling my fucking father because I was out of place in San Diego. I knew I was out of place! I was here trying to piece together the puzzle of my empty, yet expansive life! And if people thought they could continue to keep secrets from me because they thought it was for my own good, they had another thing coming.

  I was a grown woman. And I deserved to know about my life. My family. My fucking half-sister! But at least Bronx coming around led me to the conclusion I’d been looking for.

  They would have never resorted to calling my father if they didn’t know who this girl in the picture was.

  Now I knew they were hiding information, which meant I knew where to find that information. Wherever The Lost Boys camped out, that was where I’d be. So, I restructured everything in my mind’s eye. As I washed my hair and scrubbed between my legs, I came up with another plan. Instead of showing that girl’s picture around and asking about her, I’d start asking people about him. Them. The Lost Boys.

  Someone would have to know where they kept their lodge around this place.

  I got out of the shower and dried myself off. My phone still vibrated against the bedside table. Holy shit, was my father not going to stop? I mean, for all I knew, it was my mother calling at this point. I splashed cold water in my face to calm down and tame the redness of my skin. Then, I tucked the towel between my legs to soak up any last residue of that asshole.

  I sighed as I dug through my suitcase.

  Bronx wasn’t an asshole. Maybe a lower guy on the totem pole who had to follow orders, but not an asshole. I knew he didn’t feel right about all this. I saw it in his eyes. I heard it in his voice. But that didn’t stop him from being a wall standing in my way.

  And if I had to knock him on his ass to get the answers I sought, I would.

  This was family we were talking about. And she deserved to know I existed just as much as I deserved to know she did.

  Wait, does she know about me already?

  That wasn’t a thought that had ever crossed my mind. But what if she did know about me? What if she did, and she wanted nothing to do with me? And that was the hurt my parents were trying to protect me from? I mean, it would make sense. It still didn’t warrant all of this, though. If it was just a matter of this woman not wanting to be around me, that didn’t seem like a hard thing to admit. It definitely didn’t require all the smoke and mirrors that were happening all around me.

  No, no. There was something much deeper to this.

  And I was going to find out what the hell it was.

  I pulled a pair of jeans up my legs and dug out a tank top. I threw a cardigan over my shoulders, settling on a nice soothing trip to the beach. Maybe some dinner out. Something to help me clear my head. I scooped up my phone and saw it had finally stopped ringing. Ten missed calls from my father and numerous ones from my mother.

  I cleared the notifications away and deleted the voicemails before I even listened to them.

  I stuffed my phone into my purse and made my way downstairs. With my key card in my back pocket, I threw my hair up on top of my head with a hair tie I dug out of the side pocket of my jeans. I got into the elevator, resolving myself to a nice, warm walk to clear my head. I needed to settle down my anger and get in front of this with a logical mind before I proceeded.

  Especially since the resident crew in town knew exactly what I was doing. And now, knew exactly where I was staying.

  Fucking Bronx.

  I walked down the sidewalk my arms folded over my chest. I walked by coffee shops that smelled phenomenal and bakeries laced with the smell of sugar and lemon. A wonderful summer scent. I licked my lips as I walked by, drawing in deep breaths to try and get the trembling of my body to calm down. But for some reason, I couldn't shake it. I couldn't shake the prickling of my skin and the damning sensation that I was being watched.

  I stopped a few blocks away from the hotel and looked around. Was Bronx following me?

  “Do you need some help?”

  I turned around and found a man smiling behind me.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “You look a bit lost. Do you need some help getting somewhere?” he asked.

  I narrowed my eyes and slowly backed away from him. He had on a very trim suit against a thin, wispy body. He was clearly Asian. Soft, tanned skin with very high cheekbones that almost closed his eyes, they were so prominent. His hair was jet black, and when he smiled his eyes fully and completely closed. He wasn’t much taller than me. Maybe five-six, if he was lucky.

  “No, I don’t need any help. Thanks,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” another man asked.

  I turned around and found another Asian man standing behind me. Only this one was clad in black from head to toe. And he was massive. My eyes slowly panned up him and I tried side-stepping him, but yet another man appeared at my side.

  And before I knew it, these men had me blocked in.

  “What do you guys want?” I asked.

  “We just want to ask you a question,” the man in the suit said.

  “Funny, I thought you were trying to help me,” I said flatly.

  He brandished a picture, and I recognized Bronx instantly. But something told me to keep my face unreadable, so I forced it into a stoic position.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “Can you tell me why this man was seen coming from the hotel you’re staying at?” the man asked.

  I shrugged. “Maybe he needs a place to stay.”

  I saw the guys around me close in a bit, like they were trying to posture over me. But the man in the suit simply chuckled. Politely, of course. But, a quick swoop of my eyes over his body told me he was packing on both hips as well as on the inside of his right ankle.

  I was in a tight spot, and I had to stay careful.

  “You see, I have a theory,” the man said.

  “I take it you want me to listen?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “I think this man was coming from your room. Yes?” He sniffed the air before he nodded his head. “Yes. You reek of The Lost Boys.”

  My eyebrows slowly rose. “You think that a man who looks like that is going to smell like honey and vanilla?”

  “That isn’t what I smell,” he said, grinning.

  “It’s what I smell.”

  The second I heard Bronx’s voice, relief cascaded through my veins. I whipped my head around, watching as Bronx came out of the alleyway beside us. He parted the sea of men as his eyes locked with mine. Then, he stepped in front of me and the man in the suit before he loomed over him.

  “I think you guys should keep moving, yeah? Doesn’t look really good on you, intimidating some innocent woman on the sidewalk,” Bronx said.

  I looked through the bodies of the men surrounding us and saw people staring. Watching. Videotaping, of all things. I looked back at the man in the suit and saw his eyes widening. Guess he wasn’t a fan of being recorded. I kept my stance as
strong as possible, my mind spiraling as it tried to figure out who the hell these men were and what their business was with Bronx and his crew.

  Then, the man standing beside me grabbed my arm.

  “Hey, let go of me,” I said.

  “You take your hands off her right—”

  The cocking of a gun sent people screaming. I whipped my head around and saw the man in the suit holding a gun at Bronx’s chest. My jaw fell open in shock as the other man’s hand clamped down tightly onto my arm. So tightly that I knew it would leave a mark.

  “The alleyway. Now. I think we have much to discuss,” the man in the suit said.

  “Bronx,” I whispered.

  “You can let her go and speak with me. I know I’m the one you’re looking for,” he said.

  “I think she might want to hear what I have to say, don’t you think?” the man in the suit grinned.

  Then, slowly, the six of us began our walk into the nearest alleyway. I got dragged along while men continued pulling their guns and leveling them at Bronx. They walked us all the way down the alleyway before taking a right, which led to nothing but a dead end

  No lights, no cameras, and no one to hear us scream for help.

  Seventeen

  Bronx

  The second I left that hotel I was worried about her. As I walked down to the parking garage, I debated on staying. Hanging out. Making sure she’d be okay. I didn’t know Freya well, but she struck me as the kind of person that didn’t enjoy being cooped up. Which meant there was a good chance she’d go walking or something of the sort. I fought against it for a while. I got on my bike and started back for my place, trying to convince myself I was doing the right thing by listening to her.

  But there was a feeling in my gut that stopped me.

  Not because I knew her well, but because of something deeper. She reminded me a lot of myself. And whenever I was under pressure, I needed away from any confined spaces. I went on many bike rides up and down the West Coast because of that mentality. And the fact that she was willing to run off to a city she knew nothing about to find answers she sought struck a chord with me that resonated for hours.

  Days, really.

  Ever since I’d saved her in that alleyway.

  Space was something people needed sometimes. And I didn’t mind giving that to her. But the second the memory of her in that alleyway flooded to the forefront of my mind, I turned my bike around. I couldn’t let her get hurt again. Even if I stuck to the shadows and simply watched out for her, I couldn't let her do whatever she was about to do alone. Whether she went to the beach or went back home. Whether she went for a walk or went to go get some food. Whatever she was about to do, I needed to be there. Watching. Protecting. Making sure she didn’t get herself into trouble.

  And I was so glad I made that decision.

  The second I spotted her she was already surrounded by those Chinese goons. I parked my bike beside the bakery on the corner, then ran around to where they were. I knew none of them heard me coming. Stone taught me how to move quickly under pressure without being heard. Everyone in the crew knew how to do that, and it served me well in many instances. This being one of them. I eased myself right into the middle of that circle where they had Freya cornered and stepped in front of her, blocking the man’s view of her.

  Blocking his reach for her.

  But now that we stood in a dark, deserted alleyway, I wondered if I’d made the best decision. I was the only card Freya didn’t know she had played in her favor, and now I had exposed myself in an attempt to save her. The man behind me had a tight grip on her arm, and the other three men had their guns pointed at me. The man in the suit snarled, like he had just gotten the upper hand on all of us. However, despite the fact that he was shorter than me, it had me worried. He had that gun aimed right at my chest, which meant I had further to reach for my own guns than he had to pull that trigger and rob me of my life.

  “Get off me,” Freya said.

  “Stay still and shut up,” the man holding her hissed.

  Oh, that wasn’t going to fly.

  “Let her go,” I said.

  The man in the suit chuckled. “And why would we do that?”

  “Because she’s got nothing to do with this.”

  The man sniffed the air before a dastardly smile crossed his face.

  “Now, I only had theories of why you were coming out of that hotel earlier. But after smelling pussy on your body, I know exactly why you were in that hotel.”

  I gritted my teeth as Freya let out a painful yelp.

  “I’m going to ask you one last time. You really need to let her go,” I said.

  “Or what? You’re outnumbered. Outgunned. One trip of my hand blows you back to where you originally came from. And her? Well, she’ll be coming with us. As leverage until we figure out whether or not your crew really cares to protect her. That’s where you were going, right? To see if your crew would protect her?” the man asked.

  “Bronx, what are they talking about?” Freya asked softly.

  I stood my ground, calculating all the ways I could take these men out without her getting hurt. I didn’t care about myself. I had tattoos over scars covering stories that would make grown men shiver to their cores. I didn’t give a damn how this man marked my body. How much blood he pulled from me.

  What mattered was whether or not Freya got out of this unscathed.

  “No response for the pretty woman’s question?” the man in the suit asked.

  I wasn't going to bother with his name, because after I settled on a plan, I knew he’d be on the ground in seconds.

  “Let her go, and no one eats lead today. But if you choose to feast, understand it starts war between your boss and mine. I promise you that. Better get your answer in before the alarm goes off,” I glowered.

  The man in the suit chuckled as he cocked his gun.

  “Bronx!” Freya yelped.

  “And there it goes,” I growled.

  My hand came around, crashing into the side of the man’s hand. I came around with my other hand and swooped the gun underneath my arm, aiming the barrel at the ground. The gun went off into the pavement and I heard Freya scream while the man holding her cursed and fussed with his weapon. I heard her struggling against the man, but it only took me a fraction of a second to rid the man in the suit of his weapon. I aimed the gun, putting a bullet in each knee of the man standing to my left. Then, I shot the man in the suit in the foot as bullets whizzed over my head.

  “Bronx!” Freya exclaimed.

  “Get her out of here,” the man in the suit groaned.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I grumbled.

  I whipped around, drawing my own weapon and quickly stuffing the other man holding his weapon to me with bullets. I pumped his stomach full before I put another bullet in the man in the suit. Right into his shoulder. He stumbled backward as I whipped around, aiming both of the barrels to the man’s head holding Freya.

  He had just gotten his weapon in his hand because she’d been fighting against him.

  “Good girl,” I said.

  “Release her. Now,” I said.

  The man put Freya in front of him, and I didn’t give him a chance to finish his position. I shot his elbow, causing him to loosen his grip on his gun. His hand relaxed just enough for Freya to slip away, and she ran into the shadows and cowered around a corner. I took out that man’s knees as well as his other elbow, making sure he wouldn't be able to move or grab for anything.

  Then, I turned around and leveled my eyes with the man in the suit. Who was, remarkably, still upright. Thanks to a dumpster off in the corner he was leaning against.

  I holstered my gun before pulling out a microfiber cloth from my pocket. I wiped off my prints as the man struggled against the dumpster, bleeding and calling out for help into his cufflink. I tossed the gun onto the ground and made my way for him, grabbing his thick head of black hair and pulling his eyes up to see mine.

  Blood seeped up his
throat as I gazed down at him.

  “You and those Lost Boys of yours will pay for what you’ve done,” the man said, sputtering.

  “Well, next time? If you’re going to make a deal with the police? Make sure we don’t find out about it,” I said.

  Then, my fist connected with his face and he was out against the pavement.

  As the conscious men groaned and bled out on the ground, my eyes searched for Freya. I heard her panting. Whimpering. Crying softly to herself. But the shadows shrouded her. I stepped over the men in my wake and walked toward where I saw her lumber off, listening as her feet skittered across the cold pavement.

  “Freya, it’s just me,” I said.

  I stood at the entrance of a dark alleyway and saw nothing but her frightened eyes. I saw the whites of them. Wide and emerald green. One of the most beautiful colors that signified with her such fear. It made me hurt, how she looked at me. How she cowered away from me with every step I took toward her.

  “Freya, we need to get out of here,” I said.

  It took her a few seconds. Maybe she was trying to see if anyone would come up behind me. Or maybe she needed a moment to collect herself. But, after a few pauses and some sirens wailing off in the distance, she took off running toward me. She jumped into my arms. Leapt herself right off the ground and flew at me. I wrapped my arms around her, catching her midair as she clung to me, burying her face into the crook of my neck.

  I felt her tears drenching my skin as I began walking us out of the network of alleyways those assholes dragged us down.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me. Always,” I whispered.

  “Are we going back to the hotel?” she asked softly.

  I kept myself silent on that question until we made our way back to my bike. It was where I left it. Parked behind the bakery those guys had cornered her in front of. I slipped her out of my arms and set her right down onto my bike. I eased my helmet over her head, tightening it up a bit so it wouldn't go anywhere. I couldn't get that image of that man talking into his cufflink. They hadn’t been the only ones sitting around here. Waiting. Biding their time.