Perversion (Perversion Trilogy #1)

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Damon shouts.

“Oh, no, you did not just say that to me. Boy, I’ll cut out your god damned tongue. Have some fucking respect for your mama for once. If not for me or her, then at least for yourself.”

“Ma…” he whines as if she’s just taken away a toy and sent him to time out.

“Go on, get. That skank Jocelyn is at your house. I ain’t dealing with her shit tonight, so go and set that right before I light her on fire and throw you on top for kindling.”

“Fuck, not Jocelyn again,” Damon mutters.

“Thought she was in rehab?” the other man asks.

“Must have escaped,” he replies. Their footsteps and voices fade as they retreat.

The woman leans over me, and I recognize her instantly as Margaret, The lady from the park. From the sit-down with Marco and Grim. She’s never been kind or unkind to me. Mostly, we just steer clear of one another and exchange polite smiles.

“Listen, Emma Jean, I want to help you. I really do. But I can’t interfere in the business of Los Muertos. I can tell from that ass-whooping that it wasn’t no cat fight between girlfriends, so I tell you what. I can’t touch you, but I’ll walk behind you in the shadows until you cross Seventh to make sure you make it there. Beyond my territory, it’s all up to you. You think you can walk?”

I nod and hiss when I bring myself to a standing position without Margaret’s help. “I really do want to help, you know. But I can’t be starting a war and losing my boys over this. You get that?”

“I know,” I rasp, each lungful of air more painful than the next. “I get it. You can kill me, but you can’t help me.”

“It’s fucked up, I know,” she says with a sigh.

“It’s like a real life, more fucked up version of The Hunger Games,” I groan.

“Ain’t that the fucking truth.” She chuckles. “If this was any other town and any other situation, I’d get my fucking gun and teach that piece of shit Marco a lesson on how to treat a woman. It’s hard being a feminist in Lacking. This wouldn’t happen where I’m from in England. The whole fucking town would be at the Los Muertos gate with pitchforks.”

“Too bad we’re not in England,” I offer.

Margaret takes out her phone and taps a few keys before shoving it back inside her pocket.

I take a few shuffling steps forward. Margaret stays true to her word. “Move on, boys. Ain’t nothing to see here,” she shouts from the shadows as two men pass by, pointing in my direction. They quickly move to the other side of the street.

“Something tells me that there’s more to you than the lady who serves lunch to the homeless in the park on Sundays,” I say, shuffling forward at a pace that would lose a snail race. I’m getting dizzier by the second, but I concentrate on moving forward toward the obstacle in the gangster gauntlet.

Margaret laughs. “I’m a woman, baby. There’s more to us than any man will ever begin to understand.”

The moment I cross Seventh Street I know Margaret is gone.

I’ve got to make it back to Los Muertos to save Gabby. It’s more than three miles. But I can make it. I look up to the sky, the stars begin to swirl around and around. I quickly realize I’m wrong. I’m not going to make it. I know this because I’m now looking at those same swirling stars on my back.

I hear footsteps and voices, but I’m tired. A warm blanket of oblivion is being pulled over me, and I relax into it.

Oh, so fucking tired.

Of Marco.

Of this town.

Of this life.





Twenty-Three





I’m in my truck the second I get the text from Margaret. I don’t know how she knows or why, but I don’t give a fuck right now. I’m almost to the edge of Bedlam territory when I spot something that doesn’t look right and certainly doesn’t feel right. Three grown-ass men are looming over something on the sidewalk. One lifts a paper bag to his mouth to take a swig of whatever’s inside. I slow my truck and open the window.

“She’s pretty. Or at least, she was until whoever gave her that beating got hold of her,” one of the men says.

“You know the rules. She’s yellow. Bitch is fair game,” another chimes in. “You wanna take a go first?”

“Marco sure fucked up with this one. You’d think he’d want to keep her all for himself instead of turning blondie here over to the streets.”

“His loss is our gain,” a man chuckles.

I raise my hood and turn the truck with a loud squeal as fury seeps from within, flooding my pores. I see red, and these fuckers are going to pay. I drive directly onto the sidewalk and slam into the men as I skid to a stop. They bounce off my hood and fly into the street.

The one I didn’t manage to hit stares at me, shaking. His pants grow dark as he urinates himself. “You’re…you’re.”

“Go, before you find out who I really am firsthand.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He scatters into an alley.

I already know who is lying on the sidewalk, but to actually see it is a thousand times worse. My gut twists. My rage turns to despair.

Tricks.

I’m breaking every law of the truce by picking her up and placing her in the cab of my truck, but I don’t give a fuck. My Tricks could be dying, and there isn’t a bone inside my brutal body that’s going to let that happen.

Once I have her in the passenger seat, I hop in and speed down the road. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?” I ask, placing a hand on her leg and shaking it. “Tricks, talk to me!”

“I’m not okay,” she rasps with a sputtering cough. “I’m never okay.”

My chest tightens. “I’m taking you somewhere safe,” I tell her, pressing my foot to the gas.

“There is nowhere safe,” she groans. Then, she says something that rattles me down to my bones. “He found the bus tickets. There’s nowhere and no one who’s safe. Not even Grim. But take me to him, anyway. Please, just take me to Grim.”

She slumps over. Her head lands heavily onto my lap.

Then, nothing.





Twenty-Four





I open my eyes, and everything hurts. As I wake, the pain grows from sharp to dull. I’m also naked and in the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been in. I look around and realize I’ve been in it before.

Grim’s bed. How did I get here?

I try to recall the events that led me to being here, but the last thing I remember is swirling stars.

Gabby. Shit! I must get to Gabby. I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s four A.M. I still have three hours. I exhale and wince at the pain.

I sit up, and although I’m in pain, I decide to ignore it because the pain in my head isn’t shit when it comes to the pain I’ll feel if I don’t get to Gabby in time. I hear voices on the other side of the door so I stand, wrapping the sheet around my body I shuffle toward them.

“She’ll be fine. She’s bruised and scraped up pretty bad, but it’s not life-threatening. She’s got herself a few cracked ribs. A minor concussion. It could be a lot worse. She’s a tough one, though,” I hear Marci say. “When she’s up, we all need to talk.”

“She’s not going back there,” Grim grinds.

Belly coughs before collecting himself. “We already know Marco’s the one jacking our trucks. He’s probably the one responsible for the rain of bullets in the park, too. He’s looking for a reason to start a war. The truce has only got a month left on it. I doubt he’ll be making an offer to extend it if he comes up with one.”

“She’s not going back there,” Grim says again. “And that’s final.”

Belly pauses. “I understand, son. And I’m going to leave this one in your hands. I expect you to make the right decision. For all involved.”

I open the door. “I’m going back,” I say.

The three of them look to me.

“Tricks,” Grim says with a shake of his head.

“No. Marco said that if I didn’t get back to him by morning or my dead body didn’t show up on his doorstep, he’d do the same thing to Gabby that he did to me. Only, he’d make sure she didn’t survive. I can’t do that to her. I’m going back.”