Page 8 of Vengeance (Ruthless MC 4)
Luckily, the house stays still and quiet under his first scan and his second. I hand him the helmet before he can go in for a third one.
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him. “I really appreciate it. See you tonight?”
Vampire switches his attention from the house and refocuses it on me.
“No, we’re headed out of town tonight. We won’t be back until next year.”
“Oh, then I guess this is goodbye since this is my last season at the bar.”
That’s a good thing, technically. Not associating with criminals during all my days off is what I’ve been working so hard toward. But for some reason, my heart sinks at the thought of never seeing Vengeance again.
I ignore the feeling and stick out my hand for a friendly shake. “Well, say goodbye to Hyena and Des-E for me. And thanks for all the great tips. It was…ah, something knowing you.”
His pale blue eyes flick down toward my outstretched hand then back up to my face.
“I understand you’ve got your pride.” His voice is a dark thrum in the bright morning. “But you’ve got to let us protect you.”
I awkwardly lower my hand, which I guess he’s not going to shake. “I—I don’t need any protection. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
He still doesn’t look like he believes me. But I don’t stick around to try to convince him.
“Okay, well, bye.” With those last words, I all but run into the house to get away from that penetrating gaze.
I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as I slam the front door behind me, and the motorcycle starts up and roars away. But my gratitude immediately fades when I see the scene inside the house.
As quiet as it was on the outside, it’s full of people on the inside.
Apparently, my aunt decided to celebrate Thanksgiving Weekend by throwing a party.
I spot her on the couch, slumped over next to her boyfriend—the one who threatened to have me taken care of if I even thought about trying to evict her. He’s the leader of the Lado Norte, one of the most notorious El Salvadorian gangs in Tennessee.
And judging from the amount of men in the room wearing white bandanas tied around their heads, just like him, it looks like he invited his whole crew to the celebration. Plus a bunch of girls who would definitely not be on the receiving end of any small-chest nicknames if they came through the roadhouse.
It must have been some party. They’re all passed out in various stages of undress, from baggy jeans and t-shirts to totally nude. My aunt’s on the bare-naked end of the spectrum, snoring with her head on top of her boyfriend’s shoulder and a needle sticking out of her arm.
A ghostly feeling passes over me as I walk past the couch toward my bedroom in the back of the house. She looks so much like my mother, and if not for her smeared makeup and the four-month-old weave hanging messily in her face, she could be mistaken for beautiful. I remember thinking that my mom’s youngest sister was still so pretty, despite a lifetime of bad habits, when she showed up out of the blue last fall, looking for a place to stay after her supposed year of recovery.
A hand catches my wrist without warning. And I jump and eep when I see my aunt’s boyfriend Tito is suddenly awake and grinning up at me.
He’s also rubbing the crotch of his jeans like my aunt isn’t right there. “Hey, chica. Wanna go?”
“No!” I whisper back.
“C’mon, don’t be like that.” He yanks on my arm, trying to pull me down to the couch with him.
“I said no,” I hiss, tugging to get my arm back.
“And I said, don’t be like that.” His face morphs from hapless cholo to angry gangster, and there comes a sound from his other hand—the metallic click of a switchblade popping out.
New plan—actually an old plan I always keep in my back pocket just in case the bikers get too handsy. It’s one of my simpler ones.
I just plant my left foot and kick him in the face as hard as possible. With the bottom of my boot.
“Fucking puta!” he screams. But he releases my arm and drops the switchblade onto my still-sleeping aunt’s naked lap.
Blood’s gushing from his nose and his mouth. Crap! I might have broken his nose. Not exactly keeping with the Do No Harm oath I took when I graduated from med school.
A bunch of other angry Spanish words come streaming out of his mouth. I’ve been trying to learn more Spanish for rotations. But I don’t stop to translate—or try to tend to his wounds.
I just run to my room. Thank goodness, I always keep the door locked. I still have to fit my key into the lock. But unlike when Des-E stares at me, or Hyena yells out questions I’m not expecting, or Vampire announces he’s taking me home, my naturally steady hands don’t abandon me this time.
