Page 3 of Big Easy
"Who said anything about marriage? You can be committed to one person without signing legal papers."
"I like my life the way it is. No strings attached. I come and go as I please and answer to no one," I admit.
"Shit. You make it sound like a relationship is a prison, and love is a ball and chain wrapped around your neck."
Ignoring his words, I lay my tattoo machine on the table beside me, then douse his back with antiseptic, wiping his skin clean of blood and residual ink. Sliding my chair back, I admire my work for a moment. "Check it out," I announce.
Rising from the table, Ryker walks over to the mirrored wall and peers at the finished work of art. I've inked many people, but Ryker's backpiece is some of my best work to date.
"Holy shit." Ryker takes it in. "I have no words. It's a fucking masterpiece, my friend."
Almost an hour later, Ryker is gone, and I'm on my bike heading east toward Hades Outlaw Clubhouse, located in the building beside our nightclub. When my uncle first chose the location years ago, it wasn't as developed as it is now. Not bending to the pressure of selling his property, he stayed put as the city grew. The community around us doesn't seem to mind either. Being in plain sight, smack in the middle of everything, comes with its advantages. Our presence is very much in your face, and we like to keep the riff-raff out of our territory, which, in turn, helps the people and business owners prosper.
Backing my bike up, I park beside the others. Music from the nightclub filters out in the street as Bear, one of our members, checks IDs as he lets a group of young women through the front door. Spotting me, he acknowledges my presence with a chin lift as I shove my keys into my back pocket and walk toward the clubhouse entrance.
Inside, I find Slider and Grim sitting at the bar, while Amber, one of three club girls, pours whiskey into their glasses. "Prez." Grim downs his shot.
"Grim," I greet him as I pass by on my way to the basement. Hearing their barstools slide against the wood floor, I know my men follow close behind. Bite, our Road Captain is leaning backin a chair, outside the basement door, staring at his phone when we round the corner.
"Prez," he says as he stands.
"Where's Brewer?" I ask.
"Downstairs with Cash." He smirks and swings open the door.
The old wood steps creek beneath our weight as we descend into the dimly lit room. Brewer sits near the walk-in freezer unit at the far end of the basement. He strikes a match, lighting the cigarette between his fingers. "What did you find out?" I ask.
"He's not talkin'," Brewer replies.
"Open the door," I order, and he pulls the thick metal door ajar, revealing Cash, stripped of his clothes, with his hands bound above his head as he hangs from the ceiling like a cold cut of beef.
Cash raises his head, his eyes full of fear. "I hear you've been makin' money off of my girl Roxy,'' I say as I circle his body.
"Shit, Big Easy." His teeth chatter. "She owed me money. I supply her with her fix, and she turns tricks."
"She says you've been stealin' money from the register too. Any truth to that?" His eyes widen, the truth shines in his eyes, but before he opens his mouth to spit lies at me, I warn him, "Now, you've had hours to think about how this day was going to end. And believe me when I say it only ends one way. How that happens is up to you, so man the fuck up." I stop pacing and face him. "If you lie, your death will be slow."
"It's true. I fucked up, man. I swear to God I won't steal from you again. Have mercy—please," he pleads, but his words fall on deaf ears.
Reaching into my cut, I pull my weapon, and, without hesitating, pull the trigger.
2
SUTTON
I take a sip of coffee and sigh when my phone lights up with a text from my sister. There is only one reason she would be texting me at six o'clock in the morning. Swiping my finger across the screen, I tap on the text icon.
Lilly: For the love of god, call dad. I'm sick of him blowing up my phone.
Closing out my sisters' text, I open the next.
Collin: Dad is looking for you.
I roll my eyes and move on to the next.
Mom: Your father is driving me nuts. Call him. Sutton, you know how he gets. I'd say you have at least an hour before he shows up at your door.
I look at the time of my mom's text and note it was sent almost thirty minutes ago and quickly pull up dads' number and tap call. He picks up on the first ring. "Sutton, I've been worried sick."
