Page 11 of Reckless Pawn

The only beauty in his life would come in the form of a bullet in Frank Mazzeo's head.

That's where his focus belonged and that's where it would stay. This fucked up self torture of imagining her everywhere he turned had to stop now. The only thing that truly mattered was what he wanted to give her and that was her complete and total freedom.

He grabbed the half full bottle of scotch and guzzled the rest of it down before he stopped to lick his lips and let the alcohol do its job.

There was no going back.

There would be no forgiveness.

Not that he needed it anymore. Once Frank was dead, Izzy would move on to a normal life. She would heal.

And he would go back to what he was good at.

Being a killer.

This was his reality.

Chapter Four

Izzy

I woke up the next morning in a foul mood. My head pounded from the over consumption of Patty's killer margaritas and another restless night thanks to dreams of one Houston Reed. I slammed my fists into the mattress beside me. When would it ever end? Pain assaulted my head. Okay maybe having a hissy fit right now wasn't going to help my situation.

I peeked out the window to see the sun barely coming up over the horizon and decided a walk around the compound might clear my head. Although if Axel thought I was going to ask for his permission to go out, he was sorely mistaken. I firmly believed in asking for forgiveness instead of permission. Simply because permission was never given.

Despite Patty's best attempts at settling me, I was still restless and anxious to get out of this cabin. No amount of alcohol was going to make that go away.

With spring on the way, it would still be cool this early in the day. I dressed accordingly in skin tight jeans, a fitted blue T-shirt and a light sweater. I went into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror, realizing that even though in my old life I wouldn't have left my room without makeup, now I didn't care. I did, however, decide to do something about the rats nest I called hair though. My normally curly hair had gone nuclear overnight and now taunted me with a frizzy mess. It needed a deep conditioning or three and maybe a trim. A trip to see Carla, my hairdresser, so she could work her magic on me was called for. Unfortunately, that wasn't in the cards. For now I worked it into a braid diagonally down the back of my head so that it fell across my left shoulder and halfway to my breasts.

Satisfied, I grabbed a pair of leopard print chucks from the closet that I assumed came from Patty. We wore the same size shoes and about the same size clothes and while all of this stuff was already here when I arrived, I figured it had to have come from her closet. Her taste was a little out there for how I felt right now, but I didn't mind a little something extra on my feet. They were cute.

In no mood for food, I bypassed the compact kitchen and exited the cabin, locking the door behind me. Yes, the compound was secure, but I'd learned the hard way that an unlocked door was practically an invitation for anyone inside the gates to come and go as they pleased.

While my little home was set apart from the main clubhouse and I didn't see much action there, I wasn't far from a neighboring tiny building that looked identical to mine. No one lived there permanently, but it was used so often that most nights it was occupied. Which meant eventually someone or someones would emerge and I didn't need to leave out the welcome mat while I was gone. Other than the occasional visit from Patty or a random conversation with one of the prospects guarding me, I liked to be left alone.

Well, not exactly alone. One of the best things about the compound was never being alone, or at least never being too far from someone. If I ever needed something I knew where to go and could get to it quickly. Now lonely, that was a different story.

I glanced around the front and heaved a sigh of relief. I'd half expected my guard dog to be at the ready to stop me from my walk. But it was either too early in the morning for him, or someone had wandered off to take a piss.

I closed my eyes and smirked. Sweet Jesus, I was beginning to sound like one of them.

On that thought, I headed around to the back of the cabin and the empty, wooded field behind it. Walking through the quiet morning fog, I drew fresh air deep into my lungs. I'd never lived anywhere but inside the city where I was surrounded by chaos and a nonstop stream of people coming and going.

Under different circumstances I might have enjoyed living in a remote place like this. When Houston had explained what Sultan was like the night we met, he'd failed to describe how peaceful it truly was. Of course, the fact the entire club was asleep or away at the moment certainly gave the compound a different vibe. My only knowledge of anything related to this lifestyle came from a television show that might have made it seem worse than it was. Or maybe it was exactly like it was on television and more danger lurked around the corner than I could ever imagine.

Axel liked to remind me every chance he got how easily I could die without their protection.

It didn't matter. I wasn't leaving their property any time soon and after my short time with Marco, I didn't fear what these bikers could do to me.

Most of the guys either ignored me or went out of their way to be friendly. The one they called Cain had been assigned to me as a personal guard when I first arrived. He stayed by my side or right outside the door at all times, even going so far as to pitch a tent in my front yard. Fortunately, he rarely spoke to me and at the time I had no interest in conversation with anyone.

Then about ten days ago Cain said he had to leave because he was reassigned and I hadn't seen him since. Other prospects came and went from my front porch but none stayed around the clock like Cain. It was hard to admit that I kind of missed him. His silent presence had been kind of a steady companionship that made me feel extra safe.

I rounded the corner behind one of the many buildings that formed the back of the compound and followed the trail through the woods. Patty had shown me this short cut to the 'club casino' at the far back corner of the property. It didn't take a genius level intellect to know it was hidden back here because of its illegal activities. Last I heard, gambling like this was only legal in certain areas of Washington, namely the reservations, and that didn't include in someone's backyard inside of an old storage building. There were gaming commissions and inspections etc., etc. None of which went on around here as far as I could tell.

Besides the shortcut through the woods leading to the cabins, there was only one way in and one way out, meaning every person coming into the secret club was vetted at the gate by the MC. The trail narrowed, and I bent down to get through the overgrown brush. I doubted anyone but me ever used this path. After that small strip of the shrouded path, the trail opened into the parking lot surrounding the building, which fortunately this time of day was completely void of motorcycles or cars.

Good thing, since I didn't want anyone to think I was snooping again. I could admit to myself that I was curious about the club's activities. How they generated money besides this place. Did they deal drugs? Or maybe it was guns. There had to be more than just the gambling. Too many secret meetings and too many guys running around all the time. Not to mention Houston. Where the hell had he disappeared? What kind of club business kept him gone this long? Was there more club property I didn't know about?

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