Lazarus (The Henchmen MC 7)

But before I could freak out and wrap my arms around myself, his eyes went up. "We'll try cherry this time," he added.

"Cherry what?" I asked, completely lost.

To that, his smile went warm, making his dark eyes dance in amusement. "Pedialyte, sweetheart."

"Oh, right," I agreed, nodding a bit frantically as he moved and turned to walk out of the room.

Alone, I stripped, dried, and drained the tub. I changed into one of the outfits he had brought for me- black yoga pants and a heavy oversized red sweatshirt, thankful for the warmth now that the bath was over.

Then my stomach cramped again ominously and it was on my knees and purging the nothing that was in my system again.

A good ten minutes later, washed and rinsed and hair finger-combed, I walked back into the main area of the house to find Lazarus there in lightweight black flannel pajama pants and a tight white tee that clung to his strong shoulders and draped over his fit center. He was pulling slices of toast out of the toaster and plating them as he turned halfway to face me.

At my head shake, my hand going to my belly that was finally empty, he shrugged at me. "You need to put something in or you're going to be choking on bile all night. Which is worse. Besides, if you have something in there, it gives the Advil a chance to get absorbed before you start throwing up again," he said, putting the plate down on the table next to another bottle of Pedialyte, cherry as promised, sweating slightly and I wondered if it being cold would make it any less disgusting.

After I threw back the Advil with a healthy swig of the cherry which was only mildly less gross than the orange and reached to tear off a corner of my toast, I found myself asking something that had been niggling at me for the better part of the day.

"How do you know so much about what it is like to detox?"

He turned fully to me, cradling a cup of coffee between his hands, expanding his chest with a deep breath that he held for a second before letting it go and giving me a small shrug.

I thought he was leaving it at that.

But oh, no.

Then he told me.

He told me it all.

Every sordid little detail.FIVELazarus- 5 years ago"Dealing on my fucking turf, mother fucker?" Rodrigo, the leader of the Discípulos del Infierno gang demanded. It was rhetorical though because before I could give him an answer, his fist was slamming into my left jaw. It was hard enough that it would have sent my body flying several feet, Rodrigo being a good six foot with seventy-five pounds of muscle beneath his fat, but he had been holding the front of my shirt so my body just jerked against the fabric and the sound of material tearing met the sound of my groan as I leaned forward and spat out one of my back teeth.

Getting on the radar of the Discípulos del Infierno was, in one word- deadly.

No one dealt in their neighborhood since Rodrigo took over for his more lenient brother three years before and started handing out ass-kickings and death sentences depending on his mood to those who would even try to cross him.

Me? I had been dealing on his streets right under his nose for almost six months. Bad enough that I was stealing his business, but Rodrigo would never tolerate being made a fool of.

That was exactly what I had done to him too.

In my defense, I had my orders. Had I maybe had a choice, I was pretty sure I would have gone two neighborhoods over and saved myself the hassle.

But it wasn't my call.

My boss, some slimy shit by the name of Ransom, had a long line of bad blood with Rodrigo. And I was a nothing, a nobody junkie dealer who traded his time in exchange for my own supply. I was dispensable.

And, I realized as Rodrigo threw me to the ground and reached into his shoe for something and came back with a pocketknife that caught the glow of the streetlight on the blade when he snapped it open, that I was always meant to meet this end.

I was just sent as a message that while Rodrigo had claimed the turf and had kept Ransom off, that Ransom wasn't cowed by the show of power. He wanted to make Rodrigo paranoid after he found out about me and what I had been doing and for how long. He wanted Rodrigo to look twice at every single face he saw on his streets every day. If he got him paranoid, he would get him stupid. If he got him stupid, he could take him out.

Drug wars.

They would never fucking end.