Loving Two Crime Lords

Ch.2-Hi, hubby!

SAMARA’S POINT OF VIEW

I push my love out of the dark space, close the door, then shut off the car ignition, but leave the key in the car, because, who knows, maybe someone will get lucky today, or Zion will track it. Either way, I don’t give a s**t.

I put my backpack in the storage compartment, the phone in the inner pocket of my jacket, take my black leather gloves, then throw my leg over the bike, stick the key in the ignition, and cry again when I feel and hear my love roar to life under me.

“f*****g s**t! Stupid!” I push on the gas and my love starts catching speed.

My heart is now beating frantically, screaming inside my chest, swelling with every roar, and exploding when I make a perfect wheelie, -the front wheel raises and drives only on the back wheel-, then speed up, leaving behind me a cloud of dust and the last remainings of the stupid Samara.

I drove so much that I had to fuel three times, my phone vibrated in my pocket a thousand times, but I didn’t even bother to look at it.

I know who it is, and no, it’s not my husband. It’s my guard. My husband couldn’t give a f**k where I am or if I’m dead or alive.

I’m not running from home, I won’t run from him. I’m not that weak, besides, I don’t want to spend my days looking over my shoulder because I know he will look for me, and not because he’ll miss me but because no one leaves Zion Leroy. He’s dangerous and cruel, he has no f*****g shred of feelings in his dark heart, so he won’t hesitate to put a bullet in my head.

But... there’s always a but, and I’ll use that but.

He can’t kill me. He doesn’t know that yet, but I plan on letting him know before I go home.

I put the bastard at the back of my mind and focus on the roaring sound of the engine and the sweet ring of the wind that leaves me breathless because of the high speed.

I look and see that I’m driving 180 mph, and my heart catches up, pumping pure adrenaline through my veins, making me feel alive for the first time in years.

It’s dark outside, so it’s time to head home, but before I do that, just to make sure that he won’t put a bullet between my eyes for my new look and behavior, I send him an email with some video, some pictures, and some papers.

Harmless things.

I sign myself at the bottom as Your loving wife, then drive another couple of hours because I missed riding, and then head home.

“Who are you looking for?” The guard from the gate asks me once I stop, and I take my helmet off.

“I’m living here.” His eyebrows raise, but not in shock, in disbelief, and he even chuckles.

“Go before you get into trouble.” I can’t help but laugh.

“I’m Mrs. Leroy. Open the gate.” They all know me after my last name. Zion made sure that no one would get too friendly with me and cross a line that would make him look bad.

He laughs this time, and I laugh with him. I knew no one would recognize me because of the change, and then there’s also the fact that I didn’t talk to them often, and when I do are very short sentences, if you can even call them that, because they are usually formed of three words max, so I don’t blame him for not recognizing my voice.

“Come on, guardie, look at my features better.” His eyes go a bit wide because I call all the guards 'guardie', well, except for Axel.

“No...” He trails off while shaking his head.

“f**k. Fine.” I take my phone out and call Axel, but he doesn’t answer. Is he dead? Did Leroy kill him? I hope not.

I call my future ex-husband, -put the phone on speaker so the guard would hear too-, who, shockingly answers before it got to ring properly.

“Where the f**k are you?” His deep and smokey voice, which once used to send shivers down my spine, now makes me want to kill someone. Preferably him.

“Well, hello to you too, sweety. I’m outside the gate, but the guard won’t let me in.” I reply in a sickly sweet voice, then smile at the guard, who is taken off guard.

“And why the f**k-- what the... f**k? Who... what?” For the first time in my life, I hear him blabbering. I guess he’s looking at the cameras.

“It’s me. Tell the guardie to open the f*****g door or I’ll drive through it.” I snap, and for about five seconds there was no sound coming, and I start laughing.

“Let her in.” That sound came from inside the cubicle of the guard.

“But, sir, it’s not Mrs. Leroy, is she?” The guard asks, afraid and shocked at the same time.

“Sweety, if the gate is not opened in the next five seconds, I’ll drive away, and I’ll take the action as a break-up.” It’s better than driving through the gate. I wanna get rid of the bastard anyway, so I wouldn’t mind if he didn’t open it. That’s what I’m trying to accomplish. If he divorces me, then I’m free. And I’ll make sure he will divorce me.

“Open the gate.” His powerful voice leaves no room for discussion, and the guard pushes the button and opens the door.

I drive slowly inside, -waiting for him to get outside because I’m sure he’s not sure if it’s me, and he’s also too pissed to wait inside-, so I can do something naughty.

The driveway is long and parts in two. One side takes you to the huge garage, and the other is more of a sidewalk to the house. But what I’m interested in is the fountain. Why? Because flowers surround it, and with flowers comes soil.

As soon as I see the door opening, I push down the gas and speed towards the house at 50 mph, and when I’m at the partition, I take a sharp left turn, let my body on a side, and press the breaks so the back wheel drifts and throws soil all over my gorgeous husband.

Yes, he is gorgeous. I would be a hypocrite if I would say he isn’t.

I didn’t hear if he said something because of the loud engine, but I think that it would be safe to say that if he did, he cursed me.

I kick the kick stopper and get off the bike, take the helmet off and hang it on the bike, shake my head, and run my fingers through my hair to untangle it in case it’s tangled, then, with a smile, I go and stop in front of my husband.

“Hey, hubby. Happy to see me?” He has soil on his clothes, on his handsome face, and jet black hair, which, to my shock, looks like he ran his fingers through it a thousand times. And I’m certain of this fact because I never, once, saw him with his hair disheveled. And that says something considering the fact that he f****d about thousands of people, who, most certainly, pulled on his hair.

“What... you...” He trails off while looking at me with wide, evil, but also shocked, inhumanely gray eyes, and for the first time, he’s not looking through me like I’m not even there, but truly at me.

“Yes, hubby, me. I’m your wife, Samara, and I’m f*****g starving.” Even though my stomach feels like it’s being knotted, and my heart pushes down on it, I am hungry, and I will force myself to eat.

I go around him and head to the kitchen, and maybe it’s because of my loud heart or because he’s still in shock and he didn’t move, but I don’t hear him behind me.

I so want to kill him.

I open the fridge, which is filled to the brim with food, but... I don’t think I can eat actual food, so I take a bottle of beer and put it on the kitchen island.

ZION’S POINT OF VIEW

She finally caught me. She knew I was cheating. I never hid it, but today she saw me, and she looked like realization hit her, as if until now she tried not to think about it, but seeing it was a whole different thing.

I didn’t give a s**t, I didn’t even stop f*****g Andrea, who is one of my constant f***s, but I saw something in her eyes that after she went out without saying a word, made me stop.

It was... hurt, hatred, and disappointment. But why disappointment? She knew I was f*****g around.

I lost it when Axel called and told me that she had gone away from home. I thought she had left, and f**k, was I angry. The only way she can escape me is in a body bag, which I planned on putting her in for two reasons. Firstly, for ignoring my calls, and secondly, for threatening me.

When the f**k did she get those videos and pictures? How? Who?

I have the f*****g gun, it’s in my waistband, pressing against my lower back, the f*****g body bag is in the garage, but I can’t really kill her because I don’t know what she did, who she gave those files to, or if she has copies, and I can’t tell either because she’s very unpredictable right now, and to be honest, now that I saw her... I don’t really want to kill her. Well, until I f**k her once.

Fuck, she’s hot.

I couldn’t even get angry for stopping the bike like that and dirtying me.

Was she always this hot? No.

I went into the first bathroom to wash my face, and well, put my d**k to sleep, then went inside the kitchen, where, once again, I’m frozen in place.

There’s some rock song playing on her phone, she’s with her back at me, slightly moving her body after the rhythm of the music, looking like... fuck... I don’t have a word to describe her.

“Take a picture. Oh, sorry, your f***s would break your phone if you would have a picture with your wife.” She says in a sarcastic tone without turning around.

How the f**k did she know I was here?

“What’s this?” That was the first question that left my mouth, and she turns around with a bottle of unopened beer in her hand, which she opens by knocking the cap by the edge of the island, then takes a gulp, and my mouth drops open for several reasons.

Firstly, she drinks beer, secondly, she’s not wearing a bra and I can see her n*****s, and thirdly, she’s tattooed. Or I think that she’s tattooed.

“Are those tattoos?” She looks at her hand and then at me as if I’m stupid.

“If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, walks like a duck, what do you think it is?” Okay, time to recover. She’s my annoying, plain, wife.

Not so plain.

Irrelevant.

“Don’t you talk to me like that! When the f**k did you get tattooed? What’s with the hair, and since when are you driving a f*****g motorbike?” I ask in a demanding tone, and she smirks as if I’m funny and not scary, drinks a gulp of beer, then comes closer to the kitchen island, leans on it on her elbows, and f**k, I can see the shape of her breasts.

“Eyes up here, hubby. You didn’t look at them until now, you have no reason or right to start now.” I think I died and ended up in an alternative Universe.

“You look like a--”

“I don’t care or asked for your opinion. Now, this...” She stands tall and gestures to herself from head to toe.

“Is me. The Samara I hid and changed for you. But that’s in the past now. So, because you can’t kill me, you have two options.” She raises her tattooed hand, holding up two fingers, the index and middle one, and I see that on the side of the index she has a tattoo, it writes something, but I can’t tell what. I’m too far from her.

“You make it easy for both of us and divorce me, or... well, you put up with the real Samara. But trust me, you don’t want that. I’m a nasty bitch." She says with a devilish smirk while coming closer, and for the first time, I see her eyes.

Fuck.

I don’t know if I cursed out loud or not. I’m not sure.

“Your eyes?” I’m shocked. I’ve never in my life seen anything like that. I don’t know how to describe it, but... it’s... f**k.

“Are you wearing lenses?”

“I used to, you know, to be perfection incarnate for you, but now, no. I’m not. These weirdos are my eyes.” She points at her eyes with her fingers, looking at me as if she’s sorry that I have to see them.

Yeah, I’m not sorry. I would actually want to see them looking up at me, all teary while f*****g her mouth... fisting this f*****g hot fire-red hair of hers and--

“Oh, by the way.” She turns and walks away, and my d**k twitches when I see her ass in those latex pants.

Fuck, was her ass always this sexy?

So firm and round...

“I don’t need them anymore.” She throws the credit cards on the island, making me frown.

“How will you survive?” She chuckles and rolls her eyes at me, then takes an apple from the basket that’s in the middle of the island, takes a knife from the drawer behind her, hops on top of the counter, cuts a piece of apple, and throws it in her mouth.

Were her lips always so full?

“Don’t worry, hubby, I won’t die of starvation. I have my ways...” So... another shock. She talked before she swallowed. I’m flabbergasted.

But then... what ways?

“What ways?” I ask in a harsh voice when my mind takes me to my own gold diggers.

“Wouldn’t you want to know...” She smiles and throws another piece of apple in her mouth, but as sexy as that is, my blood pressure still rockets, and not because I’m hard.

“You won’t make me look like a f*****g i***t by whoring yourself arou-- f**k!” Before I got to finish the sentence the knife in her hand flew toward me, past my head, and stuck in the furniture next to my forehead.

She jumps down the counter, strolling towards me with an angry look on her face.

Fuck, she’s hot.

“DO NOT f*****g CALL ME A GOLD DIGGER! I’M NOT ONE OF YOUR WHORES! AND I’M DEFINITELY NOT YOU!!!" She stops in front of me, looking into my soul with her mismatched eyes, killing me.

Honey, tone it down, or I might just use the body bag.

I don’t say that, though. And I won’t do it either. This is very interesting.

Hmm...

“Divorce me, Zion.” That was a threat, but I don’t cave in front of threats. I take them as dares.

“Not gonna happen,” I say with a smirk, and she closes her eyes and inhales a deep breath through her nose, exhales it through her mouth, which turns upward into a smirk, then opens her eyes and looks at me with mischief in them.

“Zion... sweety, we’ve been married for three years, so I’ll give you a piece of advice. Don’t do this, don’t torture yourself. You might be a cruel motherfucker, but I... well, let’s just say that this Samara is a b***h on a normal basis, but for you, if you don’t divorce me, I’ll make an extra effort and be... well... your worst nightmare. Now, do both of us a favor and go and shove your d**k in what’s-her-f*****g-name, and after, call that dirty attorney of yours and tell him to start printing the papers that will keep you from losing your sanity.” And with that, she pushes passed me, leaving me shocked once again.

What the f**k just happened, and where is my obedient wife?