Page 14 of Notorious

I just took out three of Rojas’ men.

And a shipment set for the border.

It’s not a lot.

It’s not a pinprick on what I want to do to him, but it’s a start.

My chest puffs out, a smile lights my face, and a slight chuckle erupts. I glance over my shoulder, where a toxic black cloud plumes in the air from the explosion, and I can’t help but be satisfied that a Rojas Cartel shipment didn’t make it out of Los Angeles today.

Taking the off-ramp on Lankershim Boulevard, I know I need to get back to the clubhouse, fucking fast. I did everything I could think of not to be traceable, but you can never be truly sure. I need to lay low for a little while. Telling the guys what I have done today won’t be fun because if Rojas suspects us, it could blow back on the club.

So I need them to be ready.

But before I get them involved, I’m going to need to calm my ass down, and the only way I can do that is at my local dive, Gears.

Hopefully this time, I won’t drown myself too much that I’llend up having to spend the night at the attached motel because I’ve been known to do that sometimes.

I have to pace myself.

Because I may have reignited this war in one fell swoop.

And I don’t want any more blood on my hands.

Unless that blood is Rico’s.

CHAPTER FIVE

Haven

Later That Night

My eyes shift to the photograph on my cell, his chiseled jaw and rugged features making him look like he has been through a lot. If I had more time, I might stop to wonder what happened in his past to make him appear so weathered. To have put him in this position.

But if I did that, if I turned my emotions on, it would only stop me from doing what I need to do.

What I have been sent to do.

Placing my cell down my shirt into my lacy bra, I straighten out my leather jacket. My long, flowing black hair is pulled back in a tight braid to keep it off my face. I try to keep my footsteps light, though it’s harder with my heavy boots. My leather pants aren’t exactly the stealthiest mode of transport either. But I will make do.

Stepping up to the door of the lower level of the motel attached to Gears, I double-check the number, then gently rap on the door. The sound of someone walking into something inside the room and a glass falling to the floor, then smashing has me on high alert as I reach into the back of my pants and pull out a small blade, hiding it behind my back.

The door opens to my target, his disheveled face looking me up and down before he scrubs at his bearded chin. He’s shirtless, wearing just a pair of low-riding jeans. His body is covered in tattoos, and honestly, if I had a second to think, I would admit that he was considerably attractive.

But I can’t think about that right now.

His eyes wander up and down me as he grasps the bottle oftequila in his hand and takes another long drink without saying anything, then chuckles. “I don’t know w-who you are, but I’m g-glad you’re h-here,” he states, clearly intoxicated when he slurs his words.

I step forward, placing my hand on his toned chest, gently pushing him back inside the motel room. He smirks, stepping back as I close the door behind us. “I hear you’ve been a very naughty boy,” I tell him.

He chuckles and takes another swig of the tequila, turning and walking further into the room. “Did my boys send you? You a hooker or something?”

My eye twitches at the thought before I move in behind him. “Or something,” I reply, gripping his shoulder to make him turn and face me.

He spins, and as he does, I bring my hand around from behind my back, thrusting the knife into his stomach. His eyes widen in shock as he drops the tequila bottle to the floor, crying out in agony. I twist the knife, pulling it out and thrusting it back in again and again in quick succession, at the same time pushing my target backward toward the bathroom. He stumbles on his feet, falling back into the bathtub, the clear plastic shower curtain falling over the top of us while his blood splatters all over the bathroom tiles. Blood seeps out of his mouth as he gargles, his hands coming up, trying with everything he has to fight back. His fingers grip my braid and rip at it, pulling the hairs from the tight confines.

I grunt out in frustration that this brute of a man isn’t going down as quickly as I would have hoped. So I do the only thing I can think of and grab the shower curtain, wrapping it around his head. He gasps with every inhale, the curtain sucking further into his mouth, depriving him of oxygen.

His body writhes, bucking and jerking with the starvation of air to his lungs. I grip the curtain so tight, using all my strengthto ensure this guy goes down. His torso bleeds profusely from all the stab wounds until his eyes roll into the back of his head. Finally, his body goes limp, and he stops fighting, letting me know I have succeeded in my mission.

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