King (Rogue Rebels MC 2)

“Jesus Moreno. Always the one with the sense of humor. How are you brother?” he said and stepped towards me, but stopped when he heard the click of my gun.

“Where did you take Valentina?” I barked at him, and he widened his eyes like I had said something shocking.

“Since when do you care about Valentina Luis, my brother?”

“I’m not your fucking brother. I have nothing to do with you!”

“But Jesus…after what Romero did to all of us? What do you care what happens to his silly daughter?” he continued, and I clenched my jaw, gripping my gun a little tighter in my hands. Juan was glaring at me, trying to peer into my soul through my eyes.

“Unless…wait, brother are you fucking that booty?” he asked and clutched his belly as he broke into another laugh. I couldn’t stand him talking about Valentina like that, but I needed to know where she was.

“Where is she?” I ignored his questions.

“You are! You’re scoring that pussy! Since when? Does Romero know that you’ve been sticking your dick in his daughter all these years?” Juan continued to laugh, and I growled and charged towards him.

Juan backed up, with his hands up in the air. My eyes shifted to the door he came out of.

“If you kill me now, brother, you will never know where she is. She’s just going to rot away, and you’ll spend your life looking for her,” he said, and I stopped in my tracks.

I knew he was lying. There was no place that he could have possibly hidden her that I wouldn’t be able to get to. But time was of the essence, and I needed to find her before she gave up.

“Where have you kept her?” I hissed, closer to him now and he smiled some more.

“Or what? Little Jesus Moreno…” he said and smoothened the top of his greasy hair with a hand.

“Are you going to shoot me? You’re never going to shoot me, brother. Not after everything we’ve been through,” he said, and for the first time in my life, I could feel the gun shaking in my hand.

Images of Juan beating the crap out of me came flashing through my mind. His cackling laugh, the joy in his eyes as he broke my jaw with punch after punch, my screams and pleading for him to stop. His forceful blows as he made me stand in a corner and watch the way he was beating up my friends.

“You’re never going to shoot me, Jesus…you can’t. We’re brothers, we’ve been through too much,” his voice sizzled in the air, and I blinked. I could feel a drop of sweat bouncing off my eyelid and falling on my cheek.

“Just stand down, Jesus. Let’s just sit and talk,” I heard him say through the white noise in my head and that was when I knew…Juan was afraid. For the first time in my life, I saw fear in his eyes. In the eyes of the guy I had always despised, who I had been too afraid of as a kid. Whose memories I had buried deep in the back of my mind somewhere. Now, he was the one at my mercy. He knew I had him and his men in a corner. Not this time Juan, this time I have you, and you’re going to pay for everything you’ve done.

I didn’t have to say it aloud, all I had to do was pull the trigger. I pulled my finger back.

The bullet left my gun in a fraction of a second. I saw it in slow motion as it flew in the air and punctured a hole in Juan’s gut. On his side. Blood seeped through his shiny cream shirt and spread quickly. Juan’s hand flew to cover the wound, and then he looked up at me, his mouth gaping open; like I had betrayed him.

A shot rang out beside me, and I whipped around with my gun in the air. A Muerte Viviente member slumped to the floor beside me; a bullet had passed clean through his skull. The silver of his dagger caught a glint of the light and sparkled in my eye. He was charging at me; he was about to stab me. I looked up and saw Commando’s gun still pointed in his direction. He tipped his head at me, and I looked back at Juan.

Two of his men had rushed to him and were trying to keep him balanced up. His legs were giving way, and his knees were buckling.

“You shot me! You fucking bastard! You shot me!” he blubbered, and spittle flew out from his mouth. The men were trying to wrap his arms around their shoulders.

“Where is Valentina?” I asked and pointed the gun at him again. His men were trying to drag him away, but they couldn’t do it fast enough. Juan was too heavy for them. I followed their slow movement with my gun. The rest of the Muerte Viviente were either dead or knocked out cold.

“Tell me where she is, or the next bullet is going to go through your skull,” I hissed, and I heard a loud wail. It was coming from the back room.

“King! Jesus! I’m here!” it was Valentina’s voice.

I forgot about Juan in a second and rushed towards the door. One Muerte Viviente stood in my way, trying to hold me back and I pointed my gun at him, and he quickly stepped away. Bunch of pussies. All of them.

I kicked open the door and ran in. Valentina was on the floor; her hands were tied behind a chair that she was stuck to. Her dress was soiled, her hair was in tangles, and her makeup was running down her cheeks. I ran to her, crawling down on the floor so that I could kiss her cheek.

“I’m here, baby, I’m going to get you out of here,” I said, feeling for the knots that the rope was tied with.

“Juan…he’s out there…” she was choking up as she spoke and I started pulling the knots apart.

“I got him,” I said.