Corrupting Cinderella (Lost Kings MC 2)

While I’m waiting to turn the steaks, I consider Rock’s offer of an office in his home. Wandering down the hall, I push open the door to his spare room. It is indeed full of boxes and shiny parts. Even though it’s a lot of stuff crammed into the space, everything seems neat and orderly. My cell phone buzzes from the kitchen, and I run out to turn the steaks.

Rock finally returns. “That smells amazing, sweetheart.” He kisses my forehead before flashing a pained smile at me. “I really need to head out for a few. Are you okay here?”

My face must fall because he pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry to run out after you just went to all this trouble. Will you wrap it up for me, and I’ll eat when I get back?”

Tears threaten to fall. I hate this. I hate it because he’s not going to tell me what’s going on or why he needs to leave so suddenly. I mean, at least if he was a doctor or something he could say “honey, I have a patient I need to see,” but he’s not going to tell me a thing. I can ask, but I know where that will get me.

“Yeah, of course,” I finally answer.

He knows. He knows damn well that I’m pissed and hurt, but he ignores it. “I need to run upstairs before I go.”

Whatever.

The timer goes off, and I turn the steaks off and plate them so they can rest for a few minutes before I slice into one. Dressed all in black now, Rock thunders back down the stairs while I’m taking the potatoes out of the oven. He’s tense and doesn’t give me a hug or anything else this time.

He stops at the door. “Either Hoot or Axel will be stopping by to check on you a little later.”

“How long are you going to be gone?” I ask. Why I bother, I don’t know.

“Not sure. Shouldn’t be long.”

Yeah, that’s real helpful.

Then he’s gone, and I eat dinner alone.

By the time I’m done, pissed off is a rather weak description of what I’m feeling. As I’m wrapping everything up, I accidentally knock my cell phone on the floor. I’ve done this a million times, but for some goddamn reason, this time the screen shatters.

“Frick!”

The phone is basically useless. I guess the phone is still working, but I can’t get it to do anything because I can’t work the stupid touch screen. I need my phone. I mean, theoretically Teller is my only client right now, and he has multiple ways to get in touch with me if he needs to. But my cell phone is the only number listed on my business cards, so the thought of not having it in working condition really freaks me out. I feel naked and vulnerable without it actually.

I glance at the clock. If I leave now, I have time to make it to the cell store at Stonewell Mall and get a new phone. I was due for a new one anyway, but I hate dealing with the hassle of sales people and all the other bullshit that comes along with it. Although, now I don’t have a choice.

There’s no sign of Hoot or anyone else, so after scribbling a quick note for Rock, I hurry to my car and head to the mall. Traffic is light, and I make it there in plenty of time before closing.

The girl who helps me is way too bubbly for this time of night. She inspects the screen and shakes her head. “Honestly, since it’s not covered by warranty, it will be cheaper to just upgrade.”

“I figured.”

She shows me all the new phones and I dither back and forth before finally choosing one.

“Normally we charge twenty-five dollars to move your contacts over, but since it’s just me tonight, I’ll do it for free,” she says with a conspiratorial whisper.

While she’s working, she frowns, then smiles at me. “Aw, that’s sweet. You and your man keep track of each other?”

“What?”

She gestures to the device my shattered phone is hooked up to. “You got that app Pinpoint installed on your phone. My sister and her husband use it. That way, she can call him when he’s passing the grocery store and ask him to grab milk,” she says with a giggle.

“Wait. What are you talking about?”

Her face falls, and suddenly the bubbly sales girl disappears into someone a little more uncomfortable. “Ah, it’s an app, to like, track someone’s phone. It’s not one that like monitors your texts and emails or stuff like that, though.”

Geez, you can do that to people? I shake my head. “But I didn’t install that.”

“Oh, well, sometimes people secretly install them on their spouse’s phone to find out if they’re cheating on them.”

My eyes fill with tears, and I have to choke back a sob.

Now she looks like she’d like to close up shop early and run home. “Ah, it looks like it was installed recently.”

I flash back to the day Rock met me after the CLE. Because of the Tony Cain fiasco and then the Greybell attack, I never did figure out how he’d found me there.

Sonofabitch!

I felt like shit for ruining the nice dinner Hope made and leaving her to eat alone. When this bullshit is over, I’ll think of a way to make it up to her.

I tried to get out of this meet. Spent forever on the fuckin’ phone trying to handle it from home. Fucking Green Street Crew. I’m tired of these little bitches jerkin’ me around. It’s why I’ve been workin’ so damn hard to line up an alternate pipeline so we’re not so dependent on these street punks.

Wrath is twisted as fuck that he can’t be at this meet. I’m not sure what poor Trinity had to do in order to keep him calm and at the clubhouse, but she’s someone else I’m going to have to show some appreciation real soon.

Would I feel better with Wrath there? Absolutely. Do I trust the rest of my guys? No doubt.

There’s no time to drive all the way to the MC, so we meet up in the parking lot of Crystal Ball.

Z, Dex, Murphy, and Bricks are waiting for me when I pull up. Teller is still dealing with Heidi drama, so I told him to stay put. Besides, if I bring too many guys, it will give GSC the impression they make me nervous. Z and Dex get in the SUV with me, while Murphy and Bricks will take their bikes. I don’t have to ask if everyone is armed. I do ask Z if he’s wearing a vest. He answers by yanking up his sweatshirt to show me the Kevlar.

“Who did you talk to, Z?”

“Some punk named Cheeky.”

I shake my head. “All to meet up with Gunner?”

“I think so. Jesus Christ, if I wanted to be dragged out of my house at all hours, I woulda been a doctor like my mama wanted,” Z snarks.

“I thought your mom wanted you to be a construction worker?” Dex asks from the back seat.

Z turns and flashes a grin. “Yeah, when she realized I wasn’t smart enough to be a doctor, she had to adjust.”

I knock him back to his side of the truck. “My gain.”

Z snorts.

“How pissed is Wrath?” I ask.

Dex chuckles. In my rear view, I spot him shaking his head.

Z’s the one to answer, though. “Fuckin’ livid, bro. Holy shit. You better go up there when we’re done.”

“Christ, I gotta check in with him like I’m a little fuckin kid?”

“This shit sucks all around,” Z says without any humor.

“I hear that.”

I steer the truck into Riverwalk Park, back to our usual meeting spot. Murphy and Bricks are right behind me. I spot a silver Cadillac and a black SUV farther back. I park near the exit facing out. Z gets out first and scans the area. Four GSC kids pop out of the SUV and Z’s body goes rigid, his hand moving to his back. Coming up alongside him, I tell him to chill under my breath.

As soon as I got out, one of the kids opened the Cadillac door, and I’m shocked as shit by who steps out.

“Loco, the fuck you doing here?” I call to the GSC street boss, closing the distance between us. His four little soldiers get all twitchy with their weapons, which makes my guys twitchy with theirs.

“Break off,” Loco shouts to his crew. I wave a hand at mine. Z comes up along side me.

“The fuck?” he mutters.

Loco is a tall, skinny black kid who

doesn’t look all that threatening. But he didn’t get that name by accident. Street crews shake in their boots at the sound of his name. I respect the guy as far as we do business together. I don’t give a single fuck about him otherwise. He certainly doesn’t scare me. Then again, few people do.

I am curious about why the fuck he dragged me out here tonight, though.

“What’s goin’ on?”

He holds his hand out to give me one of his gangster handshakes. “How you doin’ Rock, it’s been a minute.”

“Yeah.”

His gaze slips to Z and he nods. “‘Sup VP?”

“Loco,” Z answers, with his own nod.

While Loco takes a second to survey my crew, I do the same. I spot Pinky and Kidd, but no Gunner.

Shocking.

Loco snaps his fingers, and a chunky, pasty kid shuffles forward. He’s got the gangster swagger down, but other than that, he looks as if he spends too much time sitting around inhaling cheeseburgers.

I’m seriously bored with this whole situation.

“I want you to meet Cheeky. He’s takin’ the drops from now on.”

I raise an eyebrow at that. “Gunner move up?” I ask, even though I’m fairly certain the answer is a big, fat “fuck no.”

Loco snorts. “Not exactly. More like what they call,” he glances at the shrubbery obscuring our view of the highway, “a lateral move.”

In their world, that could mean anything. I don’t care enough to press for more details.

I hold out my hand for Cheeky, who seeks Loco’s permission before taking it.

“Rock, I had another reason for this meet. I hear you tryin’ to move some stuff out West. If your crew got more product, I was hoping you’d offer it to us first before looking for other buyers.”

This is completely unwelcome news. Why the fuck Loco is up in my business is very concerning.

I shrug. “Thought you guys were tapped out.”

“No.”

“Where’d you hear that story?”

He gives me a level stare and cocks his head. “Let’s take a walk.”

Z bristles next to me. “It’s fine,” I tell him.

“Play nice,” Loco cautions Cheeky.

I nod to Dex, Murphy, and Bricks for them to join Z. “Mingle.”

Z shakes his head. “You leave my eyesight, I’m coming after you.”

“Got it.”

I jam my hands in my pockets and nod at Loco. We take a leisurely walk down to the river. The air has a bite to it, and the gentle rippling of the Hudson is completely at odds with what’s going on inside my head.

When we’ve gone far enough for our voices not to carry back to the rest of our crews, we stop and face each other. Not a lick of fear runs through me. Fuck, nothing is running through me. Mild curiosity mixed with a hint of irritation, maybe.

“Look, Rock, I know you think we’re just a bunch of street punks,” he starts, then nods when I don’t agree or disagree. “That’s true for a lot of them. Me, I grew up with a different mindset. I got bigger ambitions.”

“Okay.”

“I’m telling you this so you understand why I know the shit I know. I ain’t fuckin’ playin’, man. You got access to more product, we want it.”

I keep my face completely neutral even though I’m seriously fucking pissed. “No problem. I thought you had all you could handle.”

“Yeah, Gunner was fuckin’ lazy.”

“Kidd and Pinky ain’t much more helpful, from where I’m standing.”

He narrows his cold eyes at me. “Kidd’s my blood, man.”

I don’t give an inch. “Sometimes blood is the most unfaithful and disloyal relation you’ll ever have.” I’m not fucking joking either. No one can fuck you over worse than blood relatives.

He takes a step back and looks at me like my words made him shit his pants.

“I got mad respect for you, Rock. Your fuckin’ crew is solid. Loyal. I want to understand how you made that happen.”

Seriously? I don’t even have words for how surreal this conversation is. Is he telling me he took a run at one of my brothers and came up empty? The thought that he might have tried makes me want to empty my clip in him right this second.

“We’ve been through a lot of bad shit together. Trust. Like you said, loyalty. Always got each other’s backs.”

Loco nods at me like there has to be more to the story. It’s like he’s asking me to explain what makes a good human being and what makes a bad one. I don’t fucking know. It depends on your perspective. I’m sure your average citizen thinks I’m a lowlife criminal, while a more hardcore criminal might think I’m a sopping wet pussy.

“You’re confident that if I stepped to you right this second your guys would put a bullet in each one of my guys’ brains, right?” he asks.

Yeah, I’m not liking this conversation. At all.

“I ain’t threatening you, Rock. I’ve got genuine curiosity.”

“Something like that.”

“What’s your end goal?”

“Family, freedom. I don’t give a shit about much more than that, Loco.”

“Not money?”

“Got that.”

“Not enough that you don’t have to roll out to meet me.”

I snort at that. “You got me there.” I think more about what he’s actually saying. “You trying to tell me you wanna be a kingpin, Loco?” There’s a sarcastic edge to my voice, but Loco either doesn’t catch it or straight up ignores it.

“Yeah, man. And I think you can be a part of that.”

Aw, I’m flattered.

“You got a woman, Rock?” When I don’t answer, he chuckles. “By that face you makin’, you dizzy on some dame enough that you want to slit my throat for even askin’ ‘bout her. Why just one, when you can have your pick of them fuckin’ dancers you got in your club?”

“Are you asking for dating advice?”

That makes Loco laugh pretty fuckin’ hard. “No.”

If this conversation goes on much longer, no amount of breathing exercises will stop me from killing this fuck. “How much more weight can you handle?”

“All you got.”

I stare at him. “You know we’re a small operation.”

“Not that fuckin’ small from where I’m standin’. Best shit in the state. Probably the East Coast.”

I don’t doubt it. Sparky takes his crops seriously. But I don’t like the idea of Loco talking us up to anyone outside of the area.

“I got a few other obligations, but I’ll talk to Sparky. We can probably come up with five crates on the same schedule.”

“That’ll work, man. Why you wanna cart that shit out West, when we be right here?”

“Told you, thought you were at capacity.”

“These other obligations?”

This I won’t budge on. “MC ties, non-negotiable.”

“Even if I could triple what you’re getting?”

Fuck. “Yeah, even then.”

“See, a man who isn’t motivated by money unnerves me, Rock. I don’t get that mindset.”

There’s a lot of shit about Loco I don’t “get” nor do I ever want to. “To what end do you want the money, Loco?”

“Dude, I won’t rest ‘til I’m sittin on a big ol’ pile o’ cash. You feel me?”

“Sure.” Yup, known plenty of guys like that.

“Besides that, it’s security for me and my kids. You got kids, Rock?”

“No.”

“Ah, maybe that’s why you’re so content. You got a kid, man, you look in their eyes and want to do better for them than was ever done for you. Make sure they don’t struggle.”

Holy fuck. All right then. He’s most definitely some sort of sociopath, but I guess Loco’s not a complete soulless fuck. Good to know.

“Everyone’s gotta struggle a little bit, Loco, or they never appreciate what they have.”

He stops and takes that in. “Yeah, good point.”

We walk back up to the guys and work out the logistics of the new arrangements with Cheeky. I’m feeling some serious what-the-fuck coming from Z. I’m assuming he thinks the club should have voted this.

Loco dismisses his guys, and I nod for everyone except Z to hang back.

“You cool working with Cheeky?” Loco asks.

I’m shocked he cares about my opinion. Cheeky seems soft and easy to manipulate so…“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Cool.”

He gives me another gangster handshake. “Let’s not wait so long to meet up again.”

Yeah, I can’t wait.

I’m not as fond of the f-word as Rock is. To him, it’s a medium he uses to create all sorts of artful expressions.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

My use of the word tends to be more prosaic.

Rock fucking bugged my phone. Holy frick! Did I suddenly end up in some twisted, made-for-television movie and no one told me?

That Rock thinks I would ever cheat on him and he needs to monitor me makes me completely rage-crazed. Like, I wish to God I had the same app installed on his phone, so I could track him down and choke the life out of his Cro-Magnon, cave-dwelling ass.

There’s no way in hell I am driving back to his house. I don’t want to go to my house, though, either, because I’m sure it’s the first place he’ll look when he realizes I didn’t come back to his house.

I honestly think this is it for me. The last straw. Time to get off this ride of crazy before I end up sequestered away at the MC tied to his fucking bed like a damn hostage.

This shit actually scares me.

After finding out that he tagged me like some damn dog—on top of the fact that he took off to do who-knows-what dangerous mission tonight—I think I’ve had enough. As I check into the nearest Holiday Inn, I’m filled with a grim glee that he’s going to freak the fuck out when he can’t find me.

Hope hasn’t answered my calls or texts, so I assume she gave up waiting for me and went to bed. At least I want that to be true. The more likely scenario is she’s pissed at me and not answering on purpose.

She can be cute that way.

My ass is dragging as I drive Z and Dex back to CB. Dex gives me a fist bump before he leaves. Z sticks around.