Perversion (Page 19)

I chug down another half a beer. “It’s right there. That’s the reason why we are on those gang-fuck’s radar. Can’t control them like the local cops, so we are going to have to be extra careful moving forward.”

Sandy looks down to the screen again, waving off my concerns. “So, the definition of a gang, according to Google dictionary anyway, defines a gang as an organization of criminals. That’s us. WE are an organization of criminals!” he gasps.

“For someone so smart, the fact that you’re just figuring this shit out now makes me want to give you another IQ test.”

“Marci gave me one last week. As it turns out, I’m still a genius.”

I pluck my phone from his hands and shove it into my back pocket.

“But it still doesn’t make sense to me,” Sandy says, looking downright perplexed with his nose scrunched and his forehead wrinkled.

I try another tactic. Walking over to his van, I pop the trunk hatch and point to the body rolled up in garbage bags. A member of our security team who we found out was really a member of Los Muertos, spying on us so they could steal our trucks. Taking him out wasn’t technically breaking the ceasefire since for all Marco knew, we believed he was one of our own.

“What exactly doesn’t make sense to you?” I ask, looking from the body to Sandy.

Sandy salutes me with his beer. “Touché.”

I close the hatch, then turn to go inside to take a much-needed shower. I have a meeting on the reservation with Chief David at midnight and don’t want to show up smelling like the questionable contents of Cher.

“Go take care of your cargo while that van of yours is still capable. Next time, don’t tow that shit to the fucking house. You breakdown with an unbreathing passenger inside, you call me or one of the boys, and we’ll come to you. Belly would be pissed if he knew there was a corpse in his driveway…again.”

“So moody today,” Sandy says, following me inside. “Where are you going? I have questions. Concerns. Don’t tell me you’re going to lock yourself in your room with your hand on your cock while I’m digging a hole somewhere and mentally suffering over our conversation.”

“Mentally suffering?” I scoff.

“Yes. My mind is already racing. We’re a gang. We need hand signs. Or symbols. Or whatever you call them. There’s a lot to discuss. I mean, should we be jumping people in now? Like, if we do, I think we should start with Haze. That fucker should see what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a good ass kicking every now and again.”

I shake my head and continue walking while Sandy rattles on. “Maybe, we can learn how to be a real gang online. There’s this YouTube channel called Cholos Try. The entire thing is these guys with face tattoos trying things like eating sushi for the first time. I’m sure they’ve made a ‘How to be a real gang’ video at some point. Imma look it up.”

“Fuck off,” I moan. “And go take care of your shit. Text me when it’s done.”

“Why the rush? He’s not going anywhere. Are you expecting company?” he asks, suggestively wagging his eyebrows in a way that both makes me want to laugh and punch his nose to the back of his skull. “Is Corinne coming over again? Nevermind. What was I thinking? No girl’s ever been in your room twice. It probably smells in there. Not like I’d know. I’ve barely ever been inside. You’re probably just going to read back those letters to EJ and pine away well into the night.”

“Sandy,” I warn.

“So touchy. Are you on the rag?”

“Let me know when it’s done,” I call over my shoulder.

“An organized group of criminals,” Sandy repeats to himself. “Fuck, Dictionary.com says we’re a gang, too. Oh, Wait. I forgot to tell you. The boys running security at the casino had to chase down two girls who were running a con on the guests.”

I turn my head. “You get them on camera?”

Sandy shakes his head. “No, I think one of the staff members tipped them off to the one dark spot in the whole place.”

“They catch them?”

Sandy shakes his head again. “No, the one with light brown hair went one way, and the dark-haired girl ran the other. No clue who they are, either. All we know is that they’ve been there before, and it looks like they’ve been running scams there for a while. No known affiliations. No names. Nada.”

The girl from last night.

She met up with another girl in the alley. When I saw her, she had been running. Hiding.

I’ll give the money back

“Let me know if you find out anything else. I’ll talk to the Chief about it tonight and tell him we’ve got it handled. And if you find the girls, bring them to me first before anything happens. You understand?”

“Roger that.”

I walk through the house and pull open the slider, stepping out into the backyard. I head toward my room which is separate from the house. An old shed conversion. It gives me the privacy I need and a break from the constant noise and Sandy’s always running mouth. I unlock the door and step into my room, shutting it behind me.

“Does this mean we get to pick colors?” Sandy calls out from the other side of the door. I didn’t even notice he’d followed me out. “For the record, this pristine complexion of mine does not look good in orange or burgundy. As the temporary leader of our gang until Belly’s better, I expect you to choose something that makes my eyes pop. Oceanside is the Sherwin Williams color of the year. I think that might work. I’ll pick up a swatch tomorrow, and we can go over options. We’ll have a little blow, a little vote. Sound good?”

I hear the sliders of the house open and close, and thankfully, I’m finally alone.

I groan. I have more things to worry about than Sandy finally realizing that our organization is, in fact, a gang. A lot more. Like the fact that the task force is up our ass, Belly’s declining health, and that earnings have been lower than they have since the day I arrived in Lacking. The ceasefire has been bad for business.

And then there’s the girl. If she is caught, it would be up to me to decide what’s done with her. Hopefully, she’s not stupid enough to be affiliated with Los Muertos or the Immortals AND running cons at the casino.

That won’t end well for her.

I rub my temples. I didn’t ask for this leadership shit. I was brought in for something else entirely, and it wasn’t my ability to lead.

It was my ability to not feel.

My lack of respect for human life.

My ability to kill without hesitation.

But for some reason, Belly chose me, and I’m not about to let him down.

There’s a familiar scratch at the window. I sigh and cross the room. When I open it, a ball of tiger-striped fur jumps into my arms, dropping what appears to be a mangled mouse onto the carpet. I pat his head, and he hisses out his usual greeting before curling up against me and purring softly. His tail is a scabby, mangled mess. The truce obviously hasn’t deterred him from getting into his own fights.

“Thanks for the fucking gift, asshole,” I mutter, tossing the mouse by the tail out into the yard.

The cat leaps from my arms back out the window.

I pick up my phone, realizing that the kind of company I want tonight isn’t in the form of Mr. Fuzzy, who after five years, is indifferent to me at best. I need a distraction in the form of bouncing tits and over the top moans.