Page 3 of Dima's Vision
I give her a gentle smile. “Only five?”
She grins wide before kissing me gently on the mouth, slipping the tip of her tongue against my lips before standing up and whirling around, heading for the door. “Good doing business with ya, La Madrina. Don’t die anytime soon. Not before I get my tongue in that tight pussy of yours one last time,” she giggles, slipping out of the room. I watch her curvy ass in those tight jeans sashay into the night.
I close my eyes, leaning my head back on my shoulders. I’m going to wallow at my cousin’s untimely death and finish this bottle of whiskey. And maybe have a couple of BOB orgasms. My lips turn up at my plans for the night. Relax tonight, business as usual tomorrow.
Chapter 2
Dima
Closing my eyes tightly I hold them shut to the count of four and then open them wide, shaking my head to wake myself up. The past two nights my sleep has been broken with visions of the woman. My woman. My visions usually follow a pattern. The person who is lost comes to me in my dreams. They whisper to me, names, places, addresses, family members, anything and everything they think will help me to locate them and bring them home. But this woman, I’m not sure. She never speaks to me but somehow Ifeelher. Like our souls recognize each other. I shake my head, that’s even far-fetched for me and I communicate with people who aren’t there.
My eyes flick to the house I’m meant to be watching, looking exactly as I pictured it. Two story, rundown, some of the windows on the first floor boarded up. I’ve watched the man of the house come and go twice now, his overweight body, bald head and truck driver glasses a beacon of what he’s doing in private when he thinks people aren’t looking. I’ll never understand how guys like him can live in a neighborhood and people not notice that he’s pure evil. He looks like every serial killer in the world. Shaking my head I wait for him to leavefor his shift at wherever the fuck he works. Probably a factory judging by his sweat stained polo shirt and the ridiculously large lunch bag he’s carrying.
He backs his old blue truck out of the driveway, then turns in my direction. We make eye contact as he drives past me, and my skin crawls, a chill running through me before a hot streak pierces my spine. A grin grows on my face until I’m beaming at nothing in particular. This feeling, the hot one, only happens when I clock someone who shouldn’t be forgiven for what they’ve done. It’s a sign that I can take this into my own hands and finish him how I like.
Slipping my phone from my pocket I double tap the screen to wake it up. “Call Dom Landry,” I know he goes by Omen now, since he joined the DRMC and moved to the new chapter here in Louisiana, but I knew him as Dom and that’s how he’ll stay until I get a new phone. Or talk Lexi into taking on my admin.
“Yo, Dima, you good bro? How’s Orleans?” Dom asks after three rings.
I smile at the sound of his voice and his question. I never found the Landry brothers, they found me. At a particularly grim time of my life they took me in, helped me hone my skills and taught me that I may have been living in darkness, but there was a lightness in me that I could use to help others.
“I’m… busy. And I have a request for disposal.”
Dom’s chuckles make their way down the line. “A disposal, huh? What’s the crime?”
I take a deep breath, “Kidnaps blonde girls between the ages of five and eight. Sells their bodies until they can’t take it anymore then disposes of them.”
Cursing from three distinct voices can be heard and the crackling on the line signals that Dom’s put me on speaker.
“What’s the stats on the garbage?” Vic, or Vex seethes.
“Around 6’, at least 250 pounds. Fat, not muscle.”
“When’s the delivery date?”
I glance at my watch. I’ll have to do it sooner rather than later. It’s a six hour return drive from my home base in New Orleans to The Keep MC clubhouse, so that’s a day out of my schedule. If I’m right I need to locate my woman before Halloween evening. That leaves me roughly five days to find her and save her from whoever is hunting her. “Tomorrow night work?”
“Not on a load that large. Can you push it out to the night after? Give Gretchen some time to fast for her next meal?”
“Deal. Give Gretchan a pat for me.”
“Will do.” Dom says, “Dima? Be safe, yeah?”
My chest tightens a little at the sentiment. “Always. You be safe too. There are things coming for the MC, so watch each other’s backs.”
There is a beat of silence, then a grunt of acknowledgement. The Landrys know how I work. They know I may not always have the full picture so whatever I give them is left up to interpretation. Until I have more information. Presently I just know that things are coming for The Keep chapter, so they need to stay alert.
The line goes dead and I slip my phone into my jacket pocket. Leaving my vehicle I make my way across the street, not paying attention to anything other than the front door of the house of horrors. I knock gently, then position myself so no one will be able to see the lock pick in my hands.
“You come for de chile?”
My back stiffens for a moment, surprised that someone has not only noticed me, but is speaking to me. This never happens. Usually I blend in, like a ghost. In and out on silent feet.
“I see ya in da dark, witch. Shadows cain’t hide you from me.”
Turning, I’m met with a dark gaze from a tiny woman in a rocking chair on the porch next door. She stares at me, hard,like she’s trying to read what’s written on my soul. The silence wraps around us both until she kicks her foot, her rocking chair creaking back on the porch then swinging forward.
“Save dem li’l gals… save ya soul one more time.” She flicks her head to the back of the property.
