Bad Boy's Treat: The Possessed MC Page 22

  I try to speak, but the air is sucked straight out of me. All I can muster is, “No… no… no,” as Amy turns towards the only person without a bullet in them. I watch as Alana’s eyes peel open, those beautiful blue pools becoming as stormy as the sea itself. Flecks of light flicker as tears form around the corners. She pleads desperately for her life, but Amy just laughs the way she does with her head cocked back and her mouth wide open.

  The gun lifts again pointed straight at Alana’s head. Alana’s eyes close as she begins to count. In the distance, I can hear the signs of my backup. But it is too late. We are done. I manage to cry out “Alana -- I love you!” I want her to hear it, to know it. We’ll meet again soon in a place where we would never have to worry about these dangers again.

  Her eyes pop open again at my shout, just quick enough for her to see me dart towards Amy with my arms outstretched. Amy’s thin body collapses underneath me as I can feel us both falling fast towards the hard cement floor. Amy screams, and there is a crack coming from her knee locked between my thighs. The pain is too much for her as the gun drops out of her hand.

  “Alana! Now!” Alana leaps into the action, kicking the gun from Amy’s reach. She leans down as I roll Amy face up to me. Alana places the sharp, blood-covered blade of a pair of rusted metal scissors to Amy’s neck. There’s a long pause when no one moves. It’s as if all three of us have taken a timeout to check ourselves, to catch a breath.

  Alana begins to sob; her hands shake as she looks up at me with quivering eyes. “I… I can’t do it, Liam. I can’t kill her.”

  “Shh. No. You don’t have to do anything Alana.” With my arm still pressed deep into Amy’s bare breastbone, I place my hand upon Alana’s. She lets go of the scissors, letting me take over. “Go check on Jason, and tell me if he’s dead or not. Can you do that?” She scoots backward on her hands as she wipes away a few tears that have stained her cheeks.

  “How sad…” Amy finally spits out. “You’re with a chick who can’t even stand a little bloodshed. Trust me, Liam, you’re going to grow real old of that little whiny bitch sooner rather than later. Don’t make the worst mistake of your life.”

  Alana turns back around on her heels and walks over to my side. Grabbing the scissors from my hands, she places the tip of them into Amy’s neck so that a small sliver of skin parts under the tip of the blade. Amy gulps and her hands curl. With one, long breath, Alana drops the scissors and lands a fist straight into Amy’s face, causing the side of her head to reverb back into the tiles with a smash. Alana drops the scissors next to me and stands slowly back on two feet and walks towards Jason as if nothing has happened.

  Underneath me, Amy is silent. Her eyes are closed, but I can still feel the shallow breaths beneath my arms. I grab a line of extension cord that’s been covered in smears of blood to wrap around her chest, arms, and legs. It would have to do for now. I can hear the sirens growing louder in the distance. The rest of the building seems to have come alive with men streaming out of their hiding spaces and heading out towards the doors for a getaway. No one even pays attention to us.

  “Liam…” Alana grabs my shoulders and pulls me back towards Jason’s cowering body.

  He’s pale but still moving slowly. His lips have gone dry, and when he speaks, it’s as if it comes from the deepest part of his body, “You gotta get out of here, Liam. Take the girl with you. I’ll be okay.”

  Alana looks back at me, her face completely conflicted. She wants to follow Jason’s order. If Mateo’s butchered body is anything, it looks as if she may have some real blood, outside of Amy’s, on her hands as well. But as I grab her hand, entwining her fingers with mine, that whole look of desperation washes away.

  “No. We’re not going anywhere. Hang in there. Help is on its way.”

  Alana leans her head onto my shoulder as we wait.

  CHAPTER 27

  NINE MONTHS LATER

  “Alana, darling, we need to talk… there’s an offer on the table. Better than the rest. Best you’ll probably get. This is money that could make heads spin!” As much as I love my agent, Cathy, she has a tendency to overreact, especially as of late when the contracts have been rolling in.

  “Can we do this another day? It’s really not the best ti--”

  “No, Alana. We need to decide today. The offer from Griffin Studios expires tomorrow, and the newest one from Energy Films wants an answer in 48 hours. Time doesn’t stop because of your big day!”

  I let out a long, anguished sigh as I hold up a hand to Jana, asking her to wait just a little bit longer on the hot curling iron. I step out of the living room and into my bedroom. Though, from all the stacked boxes and piles of papers and pictures, it’s hard to believe that this will ever become a master bedroom.

  I push aside a portfolio laid atop of the messy bed and lie back on the sheets. Staring straight up at the newly painted ceiling, I let myself ask, “Okay? What is this one going to give me if I say yes?”

  “$1.9 million, control of the script, executive producer title, and a 1% cut of ticket and redistribution. That alone could net you another ten million easily if the film does well!”

  I know that, as my agent, her job is to be totally focused on the money, but I only care about one thing and one thing only -- my story. Ever since the news station helicopters began swarming The Possessed compound, as Liam and I exited arm and arm via police escort, there hasn’t been a day in which I haven’t been offered some kind of money to get the true story out there.

  First, Liam agreed to do the talk show rounds. The public relations manager his coach hired for him, basically told him it was a must. Sure, he got to walk free by agreeing to turn in information about his club and the whereabouts of Amy and other Black Flag Mafia members, but it didn’t make him look any less innocent. In fact, Amy’s website hack had made it even worse for him by basically pinning him to crime after crime.

  So, for two long weeks, we traveled back and forth from New York, LA, Chicago, and Dallas. We sat on every soundstage, every fake living room set, every high news desk they could find, and we repeated the same rehearsed story over and over again -- just as we had practiced on the plane like two actors rehearsing our lines.

  We were made out to be this massive love story between a goody college girl just fighting to keep her dad alive and a rising boxing star caught up in the criminal world he longed to get out of. But over the course of those two weeks, we became so much more than headlines to one another.

  Liam became my comforter as he held my hand almost every second we were together. At night, he would rock me to sleep in the wide expanse of his arms so that I could fall asleep to the sound of his heart still beating as I traced the scar from where the bullet just missed hitting an artery. And, for my part, I promised to let him lead the way, trusting him with every call and decision, even if it meant letting go of my pride and fear to let him back into my heart.

  A month after the interviews were done and the news cameras had all but disappeared (except for the sports paps who still followed Liam around as he worked to regain his spot in the pros), my life went back to normal, as normal as it could be. I opened the new and improved ice cream truck back up thanks to the money from my blog and spent my nights finalizing my thesis presentations for my final semester at grad school.

  Whenever I had a free moment away from it all, Jana and I would revive the blog. My anonymity was long gone, but to my surprise, my readers weren’t. In fact, they seemed even more intrigued by Graduate-Level Ice Cream than before, and the Bad Boy Chronicles became this outlet where girls would get together for advice and wisdom from others who went through the same situations.

  My first offer was to host a talk show. I was so not interested. It meant moving to LA and leaving behind Liam and my dad, who had become fast friends. Plus, I’m certainly not camera ready. No matter how many times Liam whispers to me about my “luscious legs” or “fantastic piece of ass,” I was not going to give up the gun on that one.


  But the studios wouldn’t take no for an answer. They brought me back a million other little ideas, each with higher and higher paychecks. Eventually, Jana and I sat down and began researching talent agents for writers and producers. Cathy was top in her game, the highest recommend out there. She worked with everyone, it seemed, and she was a closer. Liam loved her during our first meeting when she basically told him he was getting paid crap under his contract with his talent agency.

  No offer Cathy has brought to me has been like this one before. Having control of a script meant I could make it as real as I wanted to be. I could show the true story behind Amy, the ice cream truck, Liam, my dad… I could flip it around and make it a comedy about a girl wrapped up in boxing and jewelry theft. I could even write about today, my wedding day, and all the strange and horrible roads that led up to our happy ever after.

  I sit up straight in bed and reach across one of the side tables for a framed photo of Liam and I. I know I shouldn’t love a photo taken by a news reporter, but it was caught in just the right moment. We were inside the police station’s waiting area right after Liam had been released from the hospital. I had gone to show support, to help him get through his deposition with the DA, but I was just, if not more, nervous than he was. A journalist with a cell camera caught me leaning into his shoulder, my forehead pressed deep into the fabrics of his jacket as he kisses my forehead.

  What this photo doesn’t catch is what Liam said next, “No matter what happens, nothing is going to break us, Alana. You and me, we’re in this together forever.”

  And he meant every single word. It was only a week later when he surprised me with a diamond with a cluster of rubies and emeralds surrounding it in a halo. It sparkles and shines just like his eyes in the moonlight of our new bedroom window. I was speechless as he pulled me into the empty ring of the MGM hotel, but I managed to say yes over and over again until he scooped me up and spun me around like a champion with their prize.

  Today was the day we would finally seal that promise forever. Jana was in the next room sulking with a curling iron as I was pushing the time envelope, and my dad was somewhere out back, decorating the ice cream truck with a “Just Married” sign. Liam spent the night at his grandmother’s home, preparing the restaurant for the after party. Besides the three witnesses and the county judge, we wanted our wedding day to be just us.

  Cathy grows impatient with me as she breaks all the thoughts running through my head, “Alana, I know you’re busy and that this isn’t the best time to talk to you about this, but this is show business, and it doesn’t wait around for anyone.”

  “I get that. And I’m leaning towards saying yes. You know that having the writing credit is all that I want. Just do me a favor and ask the lawyers if I can still write the novel. If they let me have that, I’ll say yes, and you can bring the paperwork to the party tonight for me to sign.”

  Cathy squeals loudly into the receiver, “Oh Alana! This is so exciting! This is what writers like you always dream of, but you’re one of the few that can say it happened! We’re going to make you and that new husband of yours rich!”

  I hang up quickly on her, not wanting to think about money right now. Liam’s career and some final business deals with The Possessed have made money less of an issue than it has ever been. Still, I couldn’t help beaming over one part of Cathy’s goodbye -- I was now a professional writer. It only took a kidnapping and a near-death experience for it to happen, but here I am!

  I place the picture back on the table and head back into the living room. Jana is sitting on the couch in her navy blue garden dress and red heels looking completely uncomfortable. I apologize profusely and quickly tell her about the offer and the money. As my business partner, she still would get a portion of it. I made sure of that.

  Plus, she was the one who most likely saved my dad’s life. On the day of Amy’s attack, she raced to the hospital and called security on a man who was stalking my dad’s room. It turned out he had orders to suffocate my dad while he slept, but Jana distracted him by flashing her good looks until the police had time to get him. I could never repay her back for what she has done, but making her my maid of honor and being sure she got roped into my future businesses was a start.

  “Come on,” she says as takes my hand. “We’ve got a lot of work to do if you want to get to the courthouse by four o’clock.” She cranks the music up on the speakers as we both sing along. She finishes my hair, touches up my makeup, and then zips up the simple ivory colored tea length dress that once belonged to my mother. When she is finished, she steps back with two hands upon her lips, speechless.

  But it’s my dad walking slowly behind her who brings me to tears, “I never thought I would live to see this...” He takes out a handkerchief and begins to dot along his ashy skin. Jana hops in the car behind us as we ride in the ice cream truck together towards the courthouse. All the while, we talk about the memories we have of summers spent at festivals and parks and times when a flavor I invented turned out to be a total dud.

  I hate to admit that even I have a pit in my stomach about saying goodbye to this. After today, my dad will be the owner of The Emerald Pub and Ice Cream Shop, now that Liam’s grandmother has officially retired and Liam has become too busy to run the kitchen. It was another dream come true because of the person Liam has become.

  We pull up to the courthouse. With barely a care in the parking lot, I spot Liam’s grandmother’s car off to the side. He’s inside, waiting for me. Sparks inside fill me up, making me dizzy as I grab hold of my dad’s waiting arm.

  This was it. In just a few short minutes, I would walk back out this door with Liam. I would be Alana Murphy; the wife of a man who knew that love like ours was worth fighting for. I close my eyes and count the seconds that pass by with each step. When I finally open them, he’s there, standing at the altar. The music plays, and my life begins.

  THE END

  BONUS BOOK – GRYFF

  Chapter 1

  “You should see the sheer number of assholes walking down the streets here. Astronomical.” Gryff Reeves scanned the sidewalk to his right, glancing through the passenger window at the groups of college kids strolling along. Backpacks everywhere. Popped collars. Shiny white shoes. Girls in heels. Townies didn’t dress like that, and while most used the term in an attempt to be derogatory, Gryff actually preferred the simple townies to puffed up college assholes.

  Mick, his long-time buddy in the Steel Phoenix Motorcycle Club, gave a smoke-ridden laugh through the phone speaker in his car’s dashboard, coughing loudly for good measure at the end. When he was through, Gryff heard the guy light up again, talking with a cig in his mouth.

  “Yeah, well, those assholes tend to be dependent users, so try not to piss anyone off too much,” Mick said, then gave a low chuckle. “Don’t draw attention.”

  Gryff’s thick, dark eyebrows shot up, as he turned his attention back to the road. He missed looking at it through his pristine visor, a helmet set snugly around his head. Being in a car again made him feel as claustrophobic as fuck.

  “Don’t draw attention?” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “Sorry Mick, don’t know if we’ve ever met in person before, but—”

  “Yeah, yeah, try not to let all that time in the gym get to your fucking head,” his buddy fired back, which made him grin. “I’m surprised that head of yours still fits in your helmet.”

  “Had to get the sleeves on my jacket taken out last week,” Gryff told him—a lie, but he liked to make Mick laugh. “Only way I could get these guns in there without tearing the seams.”

  All jokes aside, Gryff was absolutely the kind of guy to draw attention just by walking down the street. He’d been a lanky fucker in high school, steadily filling out over the four years, and then he turned his bulk to brawn in his twenties. Towering over most of the general population at six foot five, Gryff Reeves was the type of biker who made grown men look the other way and little old ladies clutch at their pearls. And he was damn p
roud of it. Even if he smoked like a chimney on his downtime, he made sure he was in peak physical condition.

  After all, overweight assholes who couldn’t do a mile without puking weren’t the kind of people the Steel Phoenixes wanted in their club, and they definitely weren’t the kind to be privy to all their major coke transactions. That was where he made his cash these days: getting drugs out to the cartels. It was a serious world, the drug kind, and little pansies who looked like they’d blow over at the first sign of a strong wind just didn’t make the cut.

  Unless the Phoenixes needed little weasels to snitch on rival gangs—then maybe twiggy assholes could land a coveted position in the club.

  So, imagine Gryff’s surprise when he was dragged into a meeting at the nightclub he and the other Phoenixes co-owned to be told he had a special assignment. No more running drugs. No more threatening deadbeat junkies. No more shooting at the headquarters of rival clubs. Gryff had a specific problem to fix, and it wasn’t going to be easy.