Sicko(75)

I ignore the stares from the officers who are looking at me strangely as I pass them.

And I ignore the calls of Lion as I pick up to a jog, bolting out the gate. I see nothing but my best friend, my sister in harm. They probably all think that I’ve lost my mind after what happened with Bonnie, which is partially true, but nothing, and I mean nothing, would have prepared me for the photo I just saw.

Nothing.

So when the black Maserati that I’m so familiar with comes into view, idling at the curb, I run for it. I run so fucking fast that my lungs burn and the tears in my eyes dry. Pulling open the door, I climb into the passenger seat and face James with newfound rage.

“Where the fuck is she!”





Torture is a weapon, not a kill shot. It’s an art, and it just so happens to be something I excel at. The human body is expendable. The sole purpose for it is to heal itself. Amazing if you really think about it. I don’t. Not often, anyway. But when I have someone hanging from his tied hands connected to the ceiling of a basement, blood spilling out of his mouth and nose, and his jeans with piss stains drenched through the fabric, it’s the only thing I can think about.

Placing a cigarette in between my lips, I boot the man with the sole of my heavy foot and chuckle. “You’re lucky as fuck it’s not me you pissed off today.”

The basement is tidy, with glossed out walls, mountains of kegs, and boxes of alcohol and wine. This bar isn’t a shady strip joint or a scroungy hole in the wall type of bar; this is on the higher end of every scale. Allure is a cocktail bar in the heart of the city that attracts men and women with deep wallets. That’s how WPMC do things. We never make the obvious choice. We’re the wolves lurking behind the shadows of wealth. My phone vibrates against my thigh and I wipe the blood from my hands with my bandana—the same one I fucked Jade with last night—swiping it unlocked while taking the cigarette out of my mouth, blowing out smoke. “He’s ready for you. Found out the cartel told him to shoot warning shots and the dumb fuck just so happened to spray stray bullets out.”

“On my way, but there’s something you need to know.” His strident tone doesn’t bother me or throw me off. His wife just died in his arms.

“What’s that?”

“Jade took off somewhere. Didn’t see where. She was too quick for any of us to catch her.”

“What?” I bark, but then count to ten in my head when I realize I need to ask someone that isn’t Lion about where the fuck she went. “Alright, well I’ll head back to the clubhouse. We’re at Allure.” I hang up my phone and snatch the keys to my bike.

“You off?” Wicked asks from the other side of the room, flicking the gold rings around on his finger, disinterested.

“Yeah. Jade has run off.”

“What?” Wicked stands to his feet quickly, brows pulled in. “I’m coming.”

“Why?” I pull on the door, leaving Fluff in the room with the dumb fuck while exiting through the emergency back exit.

Wicked swings his leg over his bike. “Because I’ve been trying to play with shit in my head, and something doesn’t add up. I want to be there when you ask around, see if I pick up anything.”

I turn my head toward him, flicking my cigarette onto the gravel. “You think this has to do with her little boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Wicked says, and we both start up our bikes.




“Someone tell me something!” I say as soon as we’re back at the clubhouse and I’ve parked my bike. I make my way to the first man I see, who just so happens to be Roo. He ambles toward me with his wide shoulders and thick trunk legs.

“Yeah, bro. She came down to the kitchen after her shower, chill as fuck and holding a plastic bag filled with her bloodied clothes. She got a text or some shit on her phone and her whole demeanor shifted. I watched as she tensed, her eyes fucking burned through me when I asked her what was wrong. She pressed her phone to her chest and bolted. I tried to chase her, got to the gate, but she had already gotten into a dark Maserati with no plates.”

“Black?” I ask, unfamiliar panic twitches in my gut. “You sure it was black?”

Roo flips me off. “Yes. I’m not colorblind.” Instantly reaching for my phone, I find her number and hit dial.

“Think that’s her boyfriend’s car?” Roo asks, brow cocked.

I grind my teeth when her voicemail hits. “Don’t know.”

“You don’t care that I just called him her boyfriend?” Roo has a tendency of putting humor in everything and in other times, I would welcome it, but I don’t think that’s what he’s doing right now.

“I don’t give a fuck,” I scoff, hitting dial again.

“Why the sudden change of attitude?” Roo further urges, and he’s starting to get on my last fucking nerve.

I hold him in place. “Because I’m her fucking man.”

“Alright, Tarzan,” Roo jokes.

Wicked’s eyes zero in on Roo. “So she left with nothing but what she was wearing?”

Roo nods, and I watch their conversation while I continuously hit dial on her phone.

After the fifth time, I bring it back down to type out a text when I receive a FaceTime call from an unknown number. I know who it is when it’s unknown. A growl escapes my mouth, bubbled with frustration. Annoyed that Diamond is picking now of all fucking times to bother me with his fucking games. Tapping on the video, it opens to a girl in a sleek black dress with her back turned to me. The same girl he always uses in the videos he sends me. Her hair is straightened dead flat, falling to her lower back, but that’s not what piques my interest first. It’s the long bunny ears from the half mask that she’s wearing. Her slim fingers flex from behind as he moves backward, the silence loud enough to pierce my eardrums. It feels different this time.