Monster (Cazadores MC Book 1) Page 4

  "Hey, Rhoda,” I called out as I tucked my gun into my belt. “Is this yours?"

  She walked over carrying a plastic bag filled with trash. My ‘welcome home banner’ was crumpled up inside. That pretty much summed up my first day out.

  "Nope, I think it belongs to the sheriff’s daughter."

  Felicity was no longer 'Little Lamb.' Now, she was the ‘sheriff’s daughter.’

  Her phone wasn’t locked so I flipped through the pictures. I shouldn’t have. It was an invasion of her privacy, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done. The other girl in her pictures was pretty, but not as sweet looking as Felicity. I guessed it was her twin who had died.

  Southside and Northside was a bad mix, and this was not a good thing to pursue. For a moment, I reflected on the discussion in the kitchen, and how Emilio wanted to seek public office. What if I were to marry the sheriff's daughter? I laughed out loud at that foolishness. It would be a shotgun wedding in reverse. Sheriff West would point a gun at my head to keep me away from the church. It was a crazy thought, and I shook it out of my head.

  I slipped her phone into my jeans pocket and decided to spend the night in Mama’s house. I wanted to stay around people tonight and not be alone in my apartment. I knew Luis was sleeping over in the spare room. After two years in, I wasn’t used to having any privacy. The solitude of being left alone would probably drive me to do something rash.

  After the ladies left, I headed upstairs to my old bedroom. When I first moved out, Mama had turned my room into her sewing room. And at this moment, it was comforting to have her things surrounding me. My old bed was hidden by a row of dress forms in a space that was smaller than it was in my childhood memories. It was actually smaller, though. Rolling racks filled with fabric lined the walls.

  I checked my phone for news from the hospital, but there wasn’t any. Maria had texted on her personal phone that Mama was in ICU and we both should rest. In the morning, I’d go straight to the hospital as soon as I woke up. If I could fall asleep, that is. It was almost one a.m. and I was wide awake.

  While taking off my clothes, Felicity’s phone slid out of my pocket and fell onto the floor. I knew it wasn’t broken but I turned it on anyway. I lay down in my bed, and flipped through her photos again. One of the photos was a screenshot of a poem. It was titled, 'Faith.’ It was pretty good, and I read a few more. Felicity was not only pretty, but smart.

  I left the phone fall to my chest with a sigh. A blue material draped over one of the racks caught my attention. It was the same deep blue as her eyes. She'd look beautiful draped in that satin material with her impressive height and slim figure. I imagined her in it dancing with me the way we had earlier that evening.

  Felicity wasn't the type of woman I should want. But I wanted her. The women in the club knew what I was, and it didn't bother them. In fact, they expected it. Marisol not only knew what I was, she knew what to do in a crisis. She proved that tonight while Mama was lying on the ground. Felicity wouldn't know what to do. I’d always have to protect her.

  But ultimately, it would be my own fault for always bringing trouble home.

  I picked up her phone and flipped through a few more pictures, stopping at one of her and her father. Sheriff West had a scowl on his face as if he couldn’t be bothered to take a picture with his beautiful daughter. What an asshole. I shook my head and put the phone down on the nightstand.

  ***

  I didn’t know how to find her again without going to the sheriff’s office to ask, and that wouldn't happen. I didn’t want to search through her contacts for a clue. I did have some respect for her privacy. And I’d figured if Emilio could launder fifty grand in a day, then I could find a girl in Mesa.

  At three a.m., I heard some strange music playing in my dark bedroom. It was Felicity’s ringtone. I looked at the screen, and Jane was calling. In a panic, Felicity must have figured out her phone was missing so I answered it.

  “You okay?”

  There was a pause, and then I regretted picking it up.

  “Who is this?"

  “Felicity? This is Oscar.”

  “No, it’s her friend, Jane. Where’s Felicity? Can I speak to her?”

  Playing twenty questions was not my favorite activity so I filled Jane in. She wasn’t happy to hear Felicity didn't have her phone. Luis had dropped her off at Felicity’s house and she needed to get inside.

  “You know how to break into a house?” I asked her.

  “Not really. I can shoot a possum out of a tree from fifteen feet.”

  Good luck, with this girl, Luis.

  “Okay, listen. Do they have an attached garage? Try the door.”

  I heard her struggling with the door.

  “It won’t budge,” said Jane. “What’s next?”

  “Go around back. Look out for dogs. Do they have a patio door? Try that.”

  “Yes, and it opened!” she squealed. “Won’t an alarm go off?”

  “Not if it was unlocked,” I told her. “Sleep on the couch. You might get shot by the sheriff if you creep upstairs.”

  “Thanks, Oscar. And tell Luis, ‘hi.’”

  “Wait before you hang up,” I said in a rush. “I want to return Felicity’s phone to her, in person.”

  “We’ll be at the soup kitchen on 8th Street on Saturday.”

  “Gracias, Jane.” I hung up.

  Chapter 8

  Felicity

  My parents have been bonkers since Jane arrived. Mom almost had a heart attack when a sleepy-eyed Jane sat up on the couch. Dad miraculously apologized to me for not believing Jane Wheeler was in town. He did this by lecturing me about going back to college. At least he was speaking to me.

  “And try another major besides English,” he added.

  “I’d given up hope of finding a decent job with that degree, Dad. Maybe, I should try Art History.”

  Mom rolled her eyes.

  During lunch, Jane let it slip I’d abandoned my busted-up car at the bus station. After another lecture, Dad had the city tow it to a garage. He made it clear I’d have to get a job before he’d pay for more car repairs. I pointed out I needed a working car to get to any job in this area. I asked Mom if I could borrow her car, but she was too distracted looking Jane up and down.

  Jane was dressed in blue jean cutoffs and a tight tank top. Her nipples poked through the fabric.

  “Where are you planning on going? Mom asked as she continued watching Jane who was almost done with her cereal.

  “Just an outlet mall,” I said.

  Without mention of my car request, she gave me a handful of bills. “Make sure Jane has a dress for church.”

  Jane’s expression was classic. She looked like she had just won the lottery, then lost it all in a minute.

  “Hold on,” said Jane. “Church?”

  “We go to church to praise the Lord, my dear,” said Mom. “Not to… do whatever it is you’re trying to do with that outfit.”

  Oh, Mom wasn’t happy to hear Jane was almost divorced. She asked me ‘how long Jane would be staying in my home?’

  But soon we’d escaped to the San Salto mall. I spent hours trying to pick out a pretty but sexy dress to wear to the soup kitchen on Saturday while Jane went for the skimpiest pieces on the racks. My home life was fucked up.

  ***

  On Saturday, the basement rec room in the Mission Presbyterian Church was packed with people from the Northside and the Southside. Mayor Pryor was there for a photo op, acting as if he came here each week to help the poor. The larger kitchen in the back hummed with activity as volunteers reheated the food and spooned it into serving pans. I looked out the cubby-hole into the main room. There had to be twice the number of people that usually attended, which was good because the mayoral staff had brought a lot of food. Too bad they didn’t do this every week.

  “They must’ve bused them in,” my mother said.

  “So, that’s where you get it from,” Jane whispered to me.

&nbs
p; “What did you say, Jane?” asked my mother.

  “Nothing, Francine.”

  Mom frowned at the wall but said nothing to Jane. Jane had decided to call Mom by her first name because they were both married women and Jane wouldn’t tolerate being treated like a child. At least, that was Jane’s excuse for pissing my mother off.

  I was sure Mom was pleased we’d all worn dresses that evening. There was a reporter with a photographer taking staged photos of Mayor Pryor serving food. I found it amusing he served people who would never vote for him.

  My mom worked her way of to him and he spoke to her. Standing too close, he bent his head toward hers as Mom whispered something in his ear. Pryor looked over at me and nodded. There were rumors the mayor was in an open marriage. My mother was not but it didn’t stop her from flirting with men she considered influential in our town. The mayor’s hand traveled down toward my mother’s bottom and gave it a quick pat. This was one moment I wished my dad was around with his Taser.

  “I see Francine is busy making friends,” said Jane. “And it looks like she’s going to introduce you to the latest one.”

  I realized why Mom was so eager to pay for a new dress. She headed our way, the younger carbon-copy of the mayor on her arm.

  “Felicity,” she said with a honey-sweet smile. “This is Nathan Pryor, Mayor Pryor’s son.”

  Nathan smiled politely at me.

  “He’s twenty-three, has his degree, and he’s looking for a nice girlfriend.” She gave him a knowing smile.

  He was kind enough to extend his polite manner to my mother, though I was equal parts horrified and annoyed. I wanted to say something smart, but I also wanted a peaceful evening.

  Aprons were handed out to the servers then we were set up side-by-side at the serving table that was filled with side dishes for our ‘guests.’ That’s how my mother referred to the people who visited the soup kitchen. It wasn’t a bad thing to say, but it didn’t acknowledge the real issue as to why so many people needed a free meal.

  Nathan leaned toward me and asked, “So you come here often?”

  Jane rolled her eyes as she filled a woman’s plate with macaroni and cheese. “It’s a soup kitchen,” she answered for me, “not a club.”

  Nathan scowled at her, but she ignored him. The anger in his expression gave me a glimpse into what he was really like beyond the fake manners.

  “Yes, I know that,” he replied. “I meant do you do this as a regular thing.”

  “She’s here more often than your dad,” replied Jane.

  There was that nasty look again. He tried to cover it up with a smile when he saw me staring but it was too late. I didn’t like this guy. He was good-looking, tall, young, white, and Christian. In other words, the perfect husband in my parents’ minds. That should have been enough of a red flag, but after spending a few minutes with him, I knew not to trust him based on him alone.

  The old man in front of us couldn’t decide on peas or carrots. Nathan looked annoyed by the interruption, forgetting the real reason we all were there.

  “Sir,” I said. “You can have both.”

  The man looked apprehensive, but I went ahead and dished a helping of peas and carrots onto his plate.

  His eyes as I piled up the vegetables. He held up his hand to stop me from adding another spoonful.

  “That’s enough,” he said. “I don’t want trouble.”

  “You won’t be in trouble,” I explained. “It’s okay. Would you like mashed potatoes?”

  He looked at the pan of thick mashed potatoes as if he might reach in with his hands to grab some right there, but didn’t answer.

  Exasperated, Nathan piled the potatoes onto his plate without waiting for a reply. The food was too heavy, causing the thin paper plate to buckle and spill food onto the floor.

  “No, no!” the old man shouted. “I said it was too much. Now you’re going to get me in trouble.”

  Nathan sucked air in through his teeth. “It’s free food, man. Just get another plate.”

  He didn’t understand when a person has nothing, they waste nothing.

  I ran around to the other side of the table with an empty plastic bag and helped the old man scrape the food up off the floor while Jane quickly made him another plate.

  “I knew it was too much,” he muttered to himself. “I’m going to get in trouble.”

  With difficulty, I convinced him the food had to go in the trash, and I cleaned it up as Nathan glared. His lip twisted as if he smelled something foul while he watched the anxious old man who watched me. I really didn’t like Nathan.

  With another plate of food in my hands, I helped the old man to the table.

  “I said it was too much,” he repeated as he sat at a long folding table.

  “I understand, sir.” I did my best to reassure him. “Please eat your meal. It’s okay.”

  He stopped talking and then took a good look at me. “You’re very kind, miss. You’re good people.”

  Tears misted my eyes. I nodded my thanks and quickly walked back to the serving table. Nathan shook his head and dumped another ladle full of mashed potatoes onto another man’s plate.

  “Is he okay?” he asked.

  It might have sounded like true concern if he hadn’t been smirking. Without looking at him, I nodded then spooned peas onto a plate. Nathan continued to chat as I looked at everyone gathered in the room. A long table filled with overpriced food separated the haves from the have-nots. We generously served them.

  It made me sick. We were all the same inside, but chance had decided where each of us stood in the room.

  “So, you want to go out sometime?” Nathan said to me, his polite smile back on his face. Oblivious, he was hitting on me.

  I looked at Jane for strength, but she shrugged her shoulders.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I replied.

  “Then can I have your number?”

  Jane snorted.

  “I lost my phone,” I scooped more peas onto a plate.

  “I can give you my number?”

  Damn, I wanted to shove his face in those mashed potatoes and dump the gravy over his fat head. I had said ‘no’ in so many ways. No meant ‘not interested.’ It didn’t mean, ‘bother me and whine for a date until I give up and maybe give in.’

  “I need a break,” I said pulling off my apron.

  “Yeah, I understand,” said Nathan. “Did that old guy upset you?”

  “No, he didn’t,” I snapped. “You stay here. I need alone time.”

  As I left, I overheard him ask Jane if I was always this sensitive.

  ***

  A small courtyard sat enclosed by the church. It had been restored during the most recent renovations, though the original stone walls around the garden remained as they’d always been. A light breeze made my pounding head feel better. Being outside revived me while the cool air chilled my skin. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted to me as I walked under the archway into the garden and I wondered who would smoking.

  Oscar sat on a small stone bench taking a drag off a cigarette. He looked at peace in the small garden staring at the overcast sky. His dark, straight hair fell around his face except where he had tucked a section behind his ear. He looked gorgeous. His face was clean-shaven. He wore a long-sleeved button-down shirt, and a light scent of aftershave clouded pleasantly around him.

  “How’s your mother?” I asked, sitting down beside him.

  He dropped the cigarette on the ground and crushed it out underneath the heel of his boot. “Better, but she’s still unconscious. At least she’s stable and the doctor is optimistic.” He looked at the cigarette butt on the ground. “I’m trying to quit,” he explained. “But I’m tense right now.” He reached into his shirt pocket and handed me my phone. “You should lock your screen.”

  “Did you look at my stuff?” I asked, my excitement at finding him here paused from the shock of imagining him seeing my pictures and my…

  He answered with a question o
f his own. “Did you write the poems? They’re very good. You have talent.”

  “Thanks,” I said, mortified but pleased. “And thanks for bringing it to me, and I’m sorry about my father.”

  He shrugged it off, but he wouldn’t look at me. “You’re his little girl and you were surrounded by banditos. I’d freak out too.”

  His tone was teasing, but he was serious. I couldn’t find any humor in what had happened as memories of that night flashed again into my mind. The screams of pain and confusion echoed in my mind. Trembling, I put my hand to my eye to swipe a tear away. This week had been too much for me.