Page 2 of Dirty Little Secrets
She leans back, takes a swig. “The boys at the clubhouse could find you work.”
I freeze. A little voice in the back of my ear knows what kind of work but the little girl in denial needs to hear it. “What kind of work?”
Her drunk gleam, glassy and detached. “You’re a smart girl.” Then her head lolls to the side. “I’ll get my cut, of course.”
That was why she didn’t want me going off to college. She was offering me up. Not asking. She was telling me I’d start earning for her habit. And for a split second, I considered it.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I was desperate to get out. A degree was my ticket but without money, I couldn’t attend. The school I planned on going to was above the threshold for the Pell Grant. I needed a job. If I was living with her and working at a gas station or a Walmart, she would bleed me out with her habit and I wouldn’t have enough to cover books and tuition.
If it was a job at the club, that was different because I’m sure I could work something out with the President’s son, Brent. We went to the same school. I knew he liked me even if I hated his friends and what he was into. There were plenty of times I turned him down but that didn’t stop him. He wanted something from and I wanted a way out of this hell. But I knew the price. And I wasn’t sure I could afford what it would cost me.
2
XAIDEN
Itwist the blade, making sure the wound stays open as I drag it free from his neck. His eyes widen, and a spray of blood shoots up, painting the air. One more minute and he’ll bleed out. A wave of satisfaction floods me as I watch his body go limp, the life draining from his eyes.
Remorse? That’s for men with conscience, not executioners of filth like him.
My eyes catch on the patch on his leather cut. One more second and those eyes will go vacant, just like his soul. There’s only one place men like him go after death for the kind of sins he committed. Grooming teenage girls, fucking them once they’re of age, keeping them dependent and loyal to his club by preying on their broken homes. That’s rape in my book.
I could’ve done worse. Tortured him. Cut him apart, piece by piece, and watched the agony eat him alive. But I had to be quick. They’re looking for him.
I grab his head, tilting it up to see if there’s a flicker of life left, something I can crush out of existence. But he’s already gone. A corpse in a puddle of his own blood.
I let go just as my cousin Leo walks in.
“Damn, ese. You cut him up real good.”
“Not good enough.” I walk to the makeshift sink in the warehouse, drop the knife in, and turn on the faucet. “Where’s Relic?”
“He’s coming with the rest of the Kings to clean up the mess.”
Leo’s phone buzzes. I already know who it is.
My father. My uncle wants me to take his son Leo and the younger Kings under my wing but I’m not. Not after tonight. They’ve learned enough.
“Yeah,” he says. Pause. “It’s done. He’s cleaning up now. Alright…I’ll tell him.”
He hangs up.
“Let me guess…he wants to know how I feel about killing the rest.”
“You know him well. He knows what this shit does to you.”
He thinks he knows. I watch the blood swirl into the drain. Truth is, it makes me feel alive, this is the only time I ever do. But I’m not a hitman. I can’t run a legit business in New York and be the family’s executioner on the side. The cartel spills too much blood. Eventually, it’ll stain everything I’ve built. Too much is at risk. I peel off my bloodstained shirt, scrub the red from my skin until it’s raw, then toss the shirt on the ground.
Leo and the other King’s blood’s still warm from childhood. They don’t carry the weight I do. Not yet. I can’t rely on my younger cousin to clean up my messes or his close friends. They’ve been raised as brothers to run their respective families when it comes time but right now, they have school, futures, heirs to protect.
The door swings open. Relic enters with the rest of the Kings. “Damn, Xaiden,” he mutters, surveying the scene. “You fucked this fool up real nice.”
“Good. Now you putos get to clean it up. Take notes.”
Relic smirks. But he can see it in my eyes. I’m done. “You’re heading back to New York.”
“It shouldn’t have been me.”
