Page 31 of Wick
"How do you want to approach, Prez?" I ask.
"We go on foot from here. Kiwi, you and Fender circle round and come up behind them on the east side of the river. Nova, Wick, and I will assess our surroundings from the west. Wait for my move. You all know what to do. Also, there were six of their men at the event. Be on the lookout for the sixth asshole."
We reach the site where Los Demonios are currently held up. They have a small fire going, and all five men are in sight. All five men look to be drinking heavily, as well and making our task more manageable. The fuckers don't have enough sense to watch their backs after the stunt they pulled. I guess they figured The Kings would go on our merry way. They will learn the hard way how wrong they are.
"I don't know about you, Prez, but I say we go in. I'm ready to get back home."
"I'm with you, brother. Let's end this shit and go home."
Nova's murderous energy vibrates off him as he steps up beside me. "The one who touched my daughter is mine."
With those final words, Nova, Riggs, and I sprint out of the woods. Our takedown happens in the blink of an eye. We charge the campsite with our weapons drawn. Gunfire erupts, sending men to the ground simultaneously ducking for cover. I take protection just as a bullet rips the bark off the tree that shields me. I wait a beat before I step out from behind the tree. My eyes zero in on a guy hunkered down behind a motorcycle. With the top of his head visible, I take my shot. The second the guy's body slumps over, I seek out my next target.
"Clear!" Riggs calls out.
Holstering my weapon, I take in the makeshift campsite to see four of the five Demonios dead. All except the one Nova has pinned up against a tree a few yards away. Us men make our way toward him and stand at his back while he delivers his justice. The guy struggles against Nova's hold, but the look in his eyes says he knows his time on earth has come to an end. With his blade resting against the neck of the man who made the grave mistake of putting his hands on Piper, Nova delivers his last words. "I told you I'd be seein' you." The blade of his knife slides across the man's neck, and we all watch as life drains from the guy's soulless eyes as he's sent straight to hell where he will be greeted by the devil himself. There are no second chances for men who dare to touch one of our own.
We make it back to the hotel thirty minutes later, not bothering to dispose of the evidence we left behind. The gators will do that for us. Easton asks only one question when we find him standing outside the hotel smoking a cigarette while Nova and Riggs go collect the girls. "You get your shit squared away?"
I stay rooted on my bike as I take a drag from my cigarette and regard the rockstar boy in front of me for a long moment. "Yep."
Easton tosses his butt to the ground. "Hit me up again next year. You guys know how to throw one hell of a party."
The ride back to New Orleans is spent with me replaying today's events in my head. Riggs assured he was going to contact Jake to see if he had any intel on why Los Demonios have crossed the border. I can't help but think there is something shady about their timing. Why now? Why Louisiana? There is also the question of the other man who was at the event but not the campsite. He'll be in for one hell of a surprise when he returns to his buddies to find them dead. That's if the swamps of Louisiana haven't gotten to them first.
It's nearly 2:00 am when we ride back into New Orleans. Riggs and the rest of the guys head on to the clubhouse while I take the exit that takes me to my house. As soon as I turn on my street, I breathe a sigh of relief, and a fraction of the tension weighing me down evaporates when I see the police cruiser sitting outside my home. Pulling up to the squad car, I idle next to the driver's side window. "Wick," the officer greets.
"Any issues tonight?" I ask.
"Nope. All is quiet. One of your girls left here around ten. She came out to my car to report she set the alarm, and your guest was getting ready to turn in for the night."
"Thanks for watching the place, Kent." I stick my palm out and shake the officer's hand. Kent Brower has been on the force as long as I've lived in New Orleans. He's a solid guy and is always ready to lend a helping hand to the club.
As Kent takes off down the street, I steer my bike into the garage. It's been a long fucking day, and the only thing I want is to put eyes on my girl.
Chapter Twelve
Tequila
Last night and again this morning, I chose to stay quiet and have patience. Neither Malik nor I discussed what took place after his shower.. Once we both came down from the high we were riding, Malik crawled into the bed behind me, pulled the blanket over the two of us, and we fell asleep. To be honest, I don't think either one of us was ready to talk about it—about us. The moment would not have been what it was if we had further complicated what is already looming between the two of us. I think we both needed the simplicity and peace right after what we did. And it's been a long time coming. Malik has avoided the fire between us for years, never letting himself get closer than he was.
I felt him when he left the bed this morning, taking his soothing body heat with him. As quiet as he was, I figured he didn't want to disturb me, or maybe he wanted to avoid the inevitable. Nevertheless, I bit my tongue and kept my eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep as he pressed his lips to my temple, not once, but twice, then walked out of the bedroom. Only when I heard the rumble of his Harley did I open my eyes. I laid there for more than thirty minutes before getting my sore body out of bed.
I've had all day to think about everything. Me, Malik, us. Nothing more to do than to get lost in my own head while wandering around this baron house. Most of my day was spent upstairs until I received a text from a phone number I didn’t recognize but turned out to be Josie’s. I'm not mad; after the chat she and I had yesterday, we know enough about one another that I can safely say I'm okay with her. She texted that she would be making a grocery run and wanted to see if I needed anything specific. It turns out I did. Forty minutes later, she showed up to the house with a trunk full of groceries, which I tried to help her unload, but she wasn't having it. Neither were my ribs. A fucking eight-pound bag felt like trying to carry a large child thanks to my broken bones.
Josie didn't stay long, mainly because my body kept screaming at me to get more rest so it could heal. Instead of what I would typically do, which would be to push my body harder, to make myself push through any discomfort or pain, I listened to it, and carried my ass back up the stairs with a plate of my favorite snacks: strawberries, cheese cubes, Honeycrisp apple slices, and a whole jar of feta cheese stuffed green olives. Josie laughed at my food choices, claiming only a pregnant woman would eat a combination like that. She spun around, with a serious look on her face and asked me if I was pregnant. I damn near choked on the olive I had just popped in my mouth when the question passed her lips, then informed her I hadn't had a decent dicking in months, so there is no way in hell I am pregnant. For a minute, I found myself wanting to talk with Josie about Malik; to get another woman's perspective on things.
For the better part of my life, I've found myself to be more comfortable around men. Not that I haven't had female friends. It's just that ever since serving my country, I find myself working with men, more than women, and, in turn, some close friendships have formed with a few of those men I have worked with over the years. It would be nice to have someone without a dick between their legs to talk to. In the end, I decided to keep things to myself.
I'm standing in the kitchen when Malik arrives. Hearing him pull his bike into the garage, I grab a couple of paper plates from the package sitting on the counter beside me.
"It smells good in here." Malik walks into the kitchen. He tosses his keys on top of the island, then shrugs off his cut, and places it on the counter as well.
"I had planned on cooking something for dinner but overslept. I hope you don't mind Chinese takeout." Grabbing the container, I scoop us both a generous serving of General Tso's chicken with rice onto the plates.
"It's late. You didn't have to wait up for me."
Sliding his paper plate toward him, I hand Malik a plastic fork. "I don't mind. Can't sleep." My eyes lift to his. "I have a lot on my mind."
