Page 28 of Traitor

What was the point of carrying a gun if I wasn’t going to use it?

Roughly yanking me to my feet, he marched me up the stairs and right to the door of my apartment. He’d known exactly where I lived all along. Knowing that he’d been watching me sent a cold chill down my spine.

“Unlock the door, bitch,” he hissed with alcohol-laced breath. “And remember, if you scream, I will gut you like a pig before your neighbors can even get their lights on.”

I nodded again and shakily inserted the key into the lock. It took me several tries to get it open, but I finally succeeded. The man shoved me forward and I fell onto the carpet with a soft groan.

He turned the lock behind him and gave me a cruel smirk. “You keep digging into things. Let’s see if I can help you remember to mind your own business. My name is Chon Ramos—I feel you should know that since you’ll be screaming it when you beg me for your life later.”

A click sounded from somewhere behind his head in the dark living room followed by a tsk. “Chonny, Chonny, Chonny. You broke biker rule number one, my man. Always check your surroundings before starting a torture session. C’mon, this ain’t amateur hour, now drop the fucking knife and step away from the redhead.”

I sat up, wincing from the pain radiating throughout my body. “Little Ricky? What the hell are you doing here?”

Chapter Four

April 2015

“We got a problem, Mikey.”

That statement had sent me racing toward Lauren’s with the worst thoughts imaginable running on a loop in my head. He wouldn’t say if she’d been hurt—in fact, he hadn’t said anything other than,“Get here. Now.”

I pulled up and saw the bike blocking her car in and my heart sank. The trail of blood leading up the stairs didn’t do jack shit in alleviating those fears either.

The door swung open right as I walked up and Little Ricky ushered me in. A short and stocky Mexican man sat bound to a chair in Lauren’s dining area with a fat lip and a scowl. His kutte identified him as a Son and I resisted the urge to crush his facial bones underneath my fist.

I needed answers.

“Where’s Lauren?”

Little Ricky pointed down the hallway and I sprinted that direction, not giving a fuck if my footsteps woke up everybody downstairs. “Laur?”

She sat on the bathroom floor with torn leggings, bandaging a wound on her knee. When she saw me, she immediately jumped to her feet. “What the hell? Who let you in?”

I ignored her anger, distracted by the fact that her chin was split open. “He did this to you?”

When she nodded, I turned and stalked down the hallway. “You hurt my girl?” I roared into the man’s face and he grinned.

“La putadidn’t get half of what she deserves.”

I swung my fist into his chin. His nose. His eyes. I was a man blinded by rage. Little Ricky finally stepped in and pulled me off.

“C’mon, Mikey. Keep your cool. We need to know why he’s here. I thought we could take him on a road trip, see if we can’t loosen up his tongue a bit.” He patted me gently on the back with one hand while the other kept a gun trained on the biker. Once my breathing regulated, he stopped and moved away.

“I want you to leave.”

I spun around and faced Lauren. “You’re shitting me, right? You want me to leave you with the man who wanted to kill you?”

She propped a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes at me. Before, I would’ve thought it was cute as hell. Right now though, I wanted to wring her neck.

“Better him than you. At least he’s upfront about what he is. I can’t say the same for you.” Her bruised and bloody chin tilted up at me defiantly.

I grabbed her face roughly in my hands. “Goddamn it. Why won’t you let me help you?”

She refused to answer and I squeezed the sides of her face harder, my anger taking away what little resolve I had left. “Darlin’, worrying about you is like a second full-time job I never signed up for,” I forced through clenched teeth.

Lauren’s jaw tightened under my hand and she bit out, “Well, you can quit your second job because I’m good. I wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle stressing over my life.”

Little Ricky cleared his throat to get our attention. “Uh, should I just keep the gun on this prick until you’re done fighting or can we get this fucking show on the road?”

---