Page 7 of Desert Rose

“You’re gonna get yourself in a lot of trouble.”

I spin, winking at her. “Didn’t you know that’s my middle name?”

“You look hot as fuck. Totally at least twenty anddayyum girl,all the boys are gonna want to get with you tonight.”

I meet my eyes in the mirror. I don’t look like myself. I look like her twin. I hate it. I love it. I thrive in creating chaos. It’s sick but hey, I grew up in an MC, I’ve learned some shit. Like how to take out an enemy without firing a single shot. “Let’s go. I have a man to slay and a birthday to celebrate.”

“Well, if I know one thing… it’s gonna be one to remember.”

EDGE

2

You ever get that feeling that something bad is around the corner? That some unseen enemy is going to come out from a dark shadow and stab you in the back? That feeling is screaming at my senses.

“Damn, Edge. Stop cracking your knuckles. You’re spooking like a wild horse abut to get lassoed.”

My eyes narrow as they scan the dark shadows of the desert. “I got a bad feeling shit is going to go down tonight.”

“You are paranoid as fuck. We sent Chief and Rage to scout. They already sent the all clear. Relax, bro.”

I grunt. “I only trust my gut and it’s telling me we are walking into some shit.”

“That or is it because we haven’t been back to the Res since you saw her with him.”

I wince, dipping my head down to stare at the ash from Rage’s cigarette that fell on the gear shift. Seeing Mandy in the starlight walking into Tarak’s embrace cut my hard. Summer Solstice is some voodoo cosmic shit. “I got mind fucked for sure that night.” But what I don’t tell Rage is sometimes it’s not Mandy who haunts me. Some nights I wake up in a sweat, my body strained and aching for the girl whose kiss was a sneak attack. While I was pining for one, another slipped in unnoticed. For the seconds I touched her, held her, and kissed her, I had forgotten all about the she-devil Mandy’s almost supernatural-like hold over me. But while I was losing my head in that one moment in time, my brother in the MC was watching my back. Rage pulled me aside and told me one of his informants on the Res had given him intel that the girl who’s name I don’t know but whose face I can’t forget was jailbait. It shook me to the core. Yes, I’m in an MC that does unlawful shit. But it’s because the lot of us come from broken homes, the system and would be eating dirt if we didn’t stick together. We are a brotherhood of the unwanted ones. Dangerous and deadly, but if I go down it’ll be for Club shit. I won’t get locked up for statutory. That’s a dumb as shit way to get your wings of freedom clipped. Besides, Mandy has my heart. She’s just with Tarak to make me jealous. Sleeping with my enemy and all that. Mandy saw me with the underage minx. Turning on each other is what we do. Love then hate. Hate then love. Mandy and I are trapped in a twisted love rollercoaster that neither of us seems able to get off. She’ll come back to me. Even if I have to kill Tarak to make it happen.

“She’s the bad part of me I can’t cut out. It’s like my heart’s been infected and I can’t cut the infection out without killing the entire organ.”

Rage’s eyes cut over to me. “Damn, Edge. That’s some deep shit. Who knew you were capable of it?”

“Fuck off,” I sneer. “Just keep your eyes open. Something is going to go down tonight. It’s in the air.”

“The only thing going down, is you like a pussy.” He smacks the back of my head.

“You’re going to pay for that later, bro.”

“Come at me,” he smirks.

“Oh, I will. When you least expect it dick breath.”

Shit. Thank fuck for the MC. These boys have kept me sane. My old man was my first kill. The drunk fucker beat me since I wore diapers. Kicked the cat. Split my Ma’s lips to the point they never healed but only crusted over. When I was twelve. Something welled up in me. All the hate and rage had capitulated one night. I raised my fists, and they didn’t stop coming down on him.

Ma had the good sense to call her ex who lived on the Res. He took care of it and us. But we weren’t blood. We were outsiders. White. But I was pointed in the direction of the Scorpions. Pledged at fifteen and never looked back. The Royal Bastard MC are our enemy. Been like that for two decades. Out here it’s kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. There’s hardly enough mayhem for two MC’s to profit from. We compete for contracts with the cartels over the border. Fight for turf. It gets bloody and hard. But fighting for her seemed worth it. She was a desert rose in full bloom amongst the dirty thorns. Tarak and I saw the same thing. Wanted to feel the same thing. She’s with him for now. But in the end, she’ll be with me. I reach under the seat, checking for the SIG Sauer. Taking it out, I check the clip then, rack it and check the safety before sliding it into the holster under my cut.

Rage cuts the wheel taking us off the Interstate and down the dirt road leading to the western part of the Res. Rage and I are running point and checking the goods the boys on the RES are cooking. If the Meth is good, we are running it to Vegas where the players there distribute. Our MC is just in it for our fair cut for transport.

The deal means we get to eat good, have enough cash to live in rented places a step up from the shitholes we were raised in and keep the land our clubhouse is on. Alone, we’d never be able to own ten acres of desert. Together, we own that, the clubhouse we paid to be built there as well as the pawn shop outside of Albuquerque we just bought. We have our eye on a used car dealership next. Taking our dirty cash to buy legit businesses is how we move into the future.

Tonight, was just an informal meet to get a feel for how the operation is going. We’d get business out of the way, have a few beers, spend the night and report back to our MC tomorrow. But despite the plans, something just doesn’t feel right in my gut.

Rage puts the truck in park. My jaw clenches, eyeing the sleek SUV’s with bulletproof glass parked across the dirt lot. I don’t trust the Suarez Cartel. Those fuckers will trade anything for a buck, even infants. My jaw clenches as I exit the truck, noticing Skinny Pedro smoking a cigar from the porch. He’s dressed in thousand-dollar threads. Ink covers both his hands. But he greases his hair so much it shines at night. My lips twitch as I imagine taking a match just to see if his whole head would light. The man is a snake. Always on the take and always killing something. Not a day goes by he doesn’t kill. A person today. An animal tomorrow. The man is a damn demon. I ain’t no angel but men like him don’t belong here. They belong in literal hell. But I won’t give that prick Pedro the satisfaction of witnessing my disdain. The friggin’ bastard gets a twisted sense of glee the more he makes people express darker emotions.

I grunt a hello, moving past him swiftly as I enter the main rec room of the Res. It’s rustic but clean. Smells of whiskey and beer mixed with herbs that they throw in the fire every few hours. The elders are superstitious and say the herbs “purify” the air and cleanse the souls of their people. I breathe in deeply, wondering if it’ll work for me.

“You’re late.” Tate’s gruff voice comes from my right. I shrug a shoulder meeting his dark eyes as he hands me a beer. I nod over my shoulder. “I saw Pencil Dick outside.”

“We have eyes on him and his crew. They wouldn’t dare start shit here.”

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