Page 11 of Falcon

I know my family won’t leave without a solid reason and it’s why I share some of the details. “The moment Bran just mentioned, when Lynn saw Falcon and me in the parking lot of the clubhouse? That was when someone from the cartel saw me and the way Falcon reacted to me. Yesterday a cartel fucker would have succeeded in killing me, if Falcon hadn’t been there to save me. We made a deal, and I’m staying right here until everything is cleared up.”

I feel Falcon’s body going rigid behind me when I voice the last sentence. Heath and Hayden are both wearing a smirk while their old ladies frown. Even my mother is looking confused and sad.

It’s Hayden who makes me realize how my message is coming across when he says, “Fake. I knew there had to be something unreal about all this shit for you to act as you’re claimed as an old lady.”

The way his words hit leaves a bad taste in my mouth. As if I don’t have the respect of his motorcycle club. No knowledge, no meaning, no loyalty. Not the way he and his twin have. That right there is the wall my sister and I have been bouncing off of all our damn lives. We weren’t born with a dick which means we weren’t allowed to wear a leather cut and are, and will always be, standing on the sidelines.

“Go fuck yourself, Hayden,” I snarl. “Unreal is the mindset of your cock which you and Heath have always followed. Fake is the charade of keeping up appearances when it comes to family, to brotherhood. Those who automatically belong, and the ones who are the furniture you walk right by.”

My throat is clogging up and before I break down, I turn and make a quick exit down the hall, the stairs, and into the basement where I enter Falcon’s room to get away from it all. No one understands. Not really.

Everyone in our family has a place and is respected. Siblings tease one another, I fucking get that too. Not only was I born into a motorcycle club with a strong brotherhood, but there’s also fighter’s blood running in our family. Which means everything between us siblings has always felt like a competition.

Unless it involves the club. Heath and Hayden as teenagers have always made it crystal clear that there is no place for me or my twin. Becoming presidents and taking over the MC is their legacy.

I huff out a breath and grab my bag to take out my iPad. Why the hell all of this is hitting me full force is beyond me. I’m more pissed at myself and the way I put the situation into words. Falcon’s reaction made me perfectly aware of how my words hit him.

When he comes down I’ll clear things up. Tapping the screen of my iPad, I open the design I was working on for my client who has an appointment on Monday. My heart feels heavy with everything going on.

A few weeks ago, everything was perfectly fine. Now? Nothing feels right and even the design in front of me looks like crap. My eyes sting and the room becomes blurry. The first sob ripping from me is loud and I throw the iPad on the bed as I turn my face into the pillow. Maybe a good cry is all I need to get these stupid emotions under control.

Minutes pass and after a few hiccups, I drag my ass into the bathroom to splash some water on my face. Feeling somewhat better, I crawl back into bed and grab my iPad to work on the design. What else is there to do while I wait for Falcon to come down to his room?

Except, hours pass while no one comes down. Eventually I fall asleep and wake up to a still empty room.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Four days later

– FALCON –

The sight of the man strapped to the chair doesn’t trigger an inch of emotion inside me. I’m as cool as ever. Remembering how four days ago I heard Kenz cry? It still tightens my chest and it feels as if my frozen heart is being ripped straight from my rib cage and thrown into a blazing furnace.

I couldn’t go into my own room. What the fuck could I do if I did? I can’t even talk like a normal person. No wonder she’s accepting the deal I offered. Her own family only believed her words about the deal because there wouldn’t be a reality where she would be with a biker in any other way.

Anger and frustration hit me. Due to my own lacking communication skills, and the woman who triggers havoc inside me.

Then there’s this asshole I’m currently torturing.

I hit the screen of my plastic covered phone to make a monotone voice repeat the question, “Where is he?”

Grabbing a fistful of hair from the fucker in front of me, I twist hard and force his head back as I jerk my chin up.

“Fuck you,” he garbles in his own blood, hissing the words due to the missing teeth I knocked out.

I give the fucker a sinister grin, liking this answer a bit too much instead of the information I really want. I reach for the knife with the jagged edge to hold the tip near his eye. I can see the glint of fear under his stare.

He knew he fucked up when I saw him this morning behind Kenz’s building. Jumping into a run didn’t help him get away ’cause I was much faster. Thank fuck it was still dark when Kenz arrived, and she didn’t notice me taking out this asshole.

Once I had him tied up and hidden behind her car, I called my brother to help get this asshole to the clubhouse. Thorsten came, along with Macsen, the VP. Macsen is still in Kenz’s shop keeping an eye on her and will ride my bike back to the clubhouse once she’s finished with work.

Kenz. Just thinking about my old lady makes the jagged knife split this fucker’s cheek wide open. I throw the knife at the wooden panel near the door where it stays as I pinch the ripped skin of this asshole’s face and tear it open with my fingers.

His screams soothe some of the turbulent emotions inside me. I need to torture someone as an outlet for the restlessness I’ve been feeling for the past couple of days. The tarnished memory of what happened four days ago is still pissing me off.

Stepping back, I throw a piece of skin on the floor and wipe my hand clean on my jeans. I roll my shoulders and crack my neck from left to right in an effort to clear my mind. This torture session will end fast if I don’t.

Frustrating for sure, but I do need some information from this fucker. Till now we haven’t been able to find out how many cartel members are still active. Most importantly, we don’t know who this so-called son Artemio Feliza mentioned is, when he threatened to take Kenz.

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