“He got into some weird fight club match with Edge.”
“You were with Edge.”
“No… well, kind of… maybe?”
“That explains it. Edge is his nemesis. The two of them are huge rivals.”
“Ah, dueling MC’s and all that.”
“No. It was Mandy.”
“Who’s that?”
“Tarak’s fiancé. She dated them both. Left Edge for Tarak.”
“She dated them both?”
“Lucky girl, right? But she’s not she died.”
“That’s terrible. Was it during the pandemic?”
“Before. They fought over her. Edge went crazy with jealousy. Tarak was on a run north with the MC and Edge took advantage. He showed up at her house. The story gets crazy… some say she cheated on Tarak with Edge. The best guesses are she was filled with shame, left Edge in bed and took off in her truck. It was late, dark and she was going well over a hundred miles an hour. There was alcohol in her system—the tracks left on the road suggested she swerved trying to avoid something and lost control. The truck flipped and rolled killing her. Tarak hit the roof. There was an all-out brawl at her funeral when Edge showed up. They started shouting at each other and then Edge dropped the bomb that she was leaving Tarak to get back with him. He told Tarak that she had been with him before the accident. Tarak went loco on his ass.”
“I’ll bet. Wow. No wonder they beat each other up again at the Triple XXX. But what do I have to do with any of it? Why does Tarak hate me? I only met Edge twice.” What I don’t say is how his kiss made me feel or the fact that I owe him three.
“Probably because you resemble her a bit.”
“What? Me? Now, that’s crazy. There’s no way I resemble a girl two men like that would ever go to war over.”
“She was petite like you. Brunette… but she was tan you are—”
“Tell me about it. I know I’m pale as shit.”
“You want a self-tanner.”
My nose wrinkles. “No. I’ll work on it the old-fashioned way.”
“You’ll fry.”
“Probably. Anyway, can you show me how to apply all this stuff?”
Ten minutes and two-hundred-dollars later, I’m out the door. A light wind blows back my new hair. I find Tommy’s Tacos, placing an order to go. The bag swings from my hands as I navigate the streets back to my rental.
The complex is eerily quiet. Not that I’ve really bothered to make friends or meet people. But it’s just past dusk and there’s no lights on. Only a few cars sit, parked around the back of the building.
Clutching my takeout bag to my chest, I insert the key into the lock. My boxes and bags are creepy lumps sitting in the dark.
Instinctively, I flip the light switch. But something’s off. There’s an oppressive silence. The same silence that greeted me before I even stepped foot in here. Someone’s been here. My things are tossed about. Bags I never opened are untied, their contents in piles.
But my door was locked? I grab a candlestick, clutching it tight. With my back to the wall, I inch around the corner, trying to peer into the small bedroom.
“What the fuck?” I hiss. I should be afraid, instead I’m enraged. I charge forward, raising my weapon. She spins, holding a small gun. She’s in my bed with her boots on. A glass of my wine sits on the nightstand with the stain of her deep pink lips around the rim.
“You interrupted. I was just getting to the good part where you had crazy sex dreams about your male nurse in Tampa.”
My cheeks heat. “That’s private!”
“Not anymore. You’re a damn good writer. Your talents are wasted in your diary.”
She’s crazy.
A crazy, beautiful woman. She lights a blunt, bringing it to her lips. Each of her fingers are covered in stacked rings. Beaded and leather bracelets cuff both her wrists.
“What do you want?”
“You gone.”
“And he sent you to make me?” I roll my eyes. The woman is almost as tiny as me.
“Can we talk about this?”
“No.” She exhales, flipping the page of my purple book of secrets. She lays her blunt down on the small table next to the bed.
“Are you really going to shoot me?”
“Maybe.”
“Bullshit.” I lunge, catapulting myself on the bed. We fight over my book. She drops her gun in an effort to grab it with her other hand. We roll and roll, kicking, panting, punching.
She lands on top of me. Grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. Her knee presses down on me. I bite my lip. The pressure feels good.
“You like that?”
“No.” I swallow hard, feeling my nipples straining. She bends down, sniffing my neck.
“You smell like desperation.”
I buck, trying to get her off me, but I have nothing. I need to start weight training.
She moves her mouth to my lips. “If you tell, anyone about this, I will kill you.”
Her soft lips land on mine. She moves, grinding her mound against my jeans. I’m not into women but just being touched and seduced feels so damn good. The feel of a warm hand and a mouth on me has me craving for sex, affection, and intimacy.
It’s over just as abruptly as it started. “I’m not into women either.”
“Then what the hell was that?” I wipe her kiss off my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I’m high. You look sexy as fuck and the man I want is still in love with a dead girl.”
“I have food and a half bottle of wine?”
She gets off me. “We’re not friends. He wants you gone. So, get gone. I’ll give you until Sunday.”
“Or what? You’ll jump me again?”
“Please. You looked good but your kiss is boring as fuck.”
“Really? Tell Tarak, Edge didn’t think so.” I smile smugly, knowing how much Tarak hates Edge.
“What?” Her head snaps up. Murder is back in her eyes. She picks up her gun. Looks like I hit her neve instead of his.
“Are you his ex or something?”
“Or something.” She bares her tiny, perfect teeth at me. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, horny COVID girl. But I need you to blow out of town as quickly as you came in. Don’t make trouble for my brother and me. If you mess with us, we’ll take you out to the desert and let it decide your fate.”
“You’re his sister?”
I study her closer. Her skin has the same bronze gold brown color, her eyes aren’t as dark, but the strong bone structure in her face is similar but softer at the cheek. “My brother hates you and I can see why.”
“You can?”
“You’re a vixen. A seductress. Even I wanted a taste and I’m straight as the arrows my ancestors used in battle.”
“Me a seductress?” I collapse on the bed, laughing until tears spring from my eyes. “Bitch, please. These inverted tits and boney ass can’t seduce shit.”
She slaps me hard across the face. “Sunday. You, Gone. Get it?”
“Or what?” I spit, grabbing her hair hard. She slaps me again and I punch her in the stomach. She rolls off me to the floor. “Make it Saturday. And when I come back it won’t be just be. I’ll have the Royal Bastards with me.” She slams the door. The cheap windows rattle.