Filthy

2. Kane

KaneI almost felt bad for the girl. Night after night, my boys annoyed and terrorized the s**t out of her and her neighbors. And there we are again. We seemed to push the limits a bit farther each time, and tonight she decided to do something about it. Bad timing, baby. Bad time to come down there and get involved.

Did I feel bad for keeping a pretty little thing like her awake at night? Maybe a little. Hey, I know my guys are loud and rambunctious. I know we can cause some trouble sometimes. But the little parking lot of her apartment building sat at the edge of town and just so happened to be the prime meeting spot after a run – it was just off of a freeway, just outside the city limits and was hidden behind a bunch of large trees that keep us from sight. There were very few other houses or buildings around. And it was right on our way back to the clubhouse.

You couldn't have asked for a better, more fitting location. Until that hot little brunette got involved, that was. No one from her building seemed to care before. Nobody ever got involved. Maybe they'd been too afraid of us to open their mouths. I was sure they'd heard the stories and, likely because of that, they'd kept their windows shut and stayed to themselves whenever The Black Cossacks rolled up in there. But not this one. She wasn't easily intimidated. No, she was as feisty as she was sexy.

But the sound of sirens coming our way made it clear that someone had called. I could tell by the look on her face – it was a look of genuine surprise – that it hadn't been her. Besides, she didn't seem like the typical damsel in distress who waited for somebody to come to her rescue. Not this one. She seemed like the take-charge kind of girl. The fact that she was willing to get in my face and give my boys the finger and a lot of harsh words told me that. Someone else had made that call, I was sure of it. Didn't matter who.

The deal we'd worked out with the Mexicans couldn't fall through. This was the big one. The big score. This was the one that would let us all retire, live off our investments, and give up this life for good. It was something I'd been looking forward to. A lot. Running weed and security had been fun for a while – when I was younger. Sure, I might still be considered young, but this lifestyle aged you faster than hell. You saw too much, did the unthinkable. When you lived this outlaw sort of lifestyle, you played hard, rode hard and, quite often, died hard. That wasn't the way I wanted to go out.

No, I wanted to go out quietly. And many, many years from now. I just wanted to own a bar, keep to myself and stay off the radar. I was done with this type of s**t and, once this deal went through, we could all hit the road for good.

But of course, nothing in this life ever came easily.

Patrol cars came screaming into the parking lot with lights and sirens blaring. In my hand was a bag of drugs I'd been ready to hand over to the Incas.

The sexy brunette was turned around, facing away from me, after being grabbed by one of my guys. Without stopping to think about what I was doing, I reacted and did the only thing I could at the time. Grabbing the zipper on her backpack, I pulled it open and dropped in the bag of drugs inside, zipping it back up quickly. After that, I crossed my arms in front of me and stepped away from the girl. She'd been so preoccupied with yelling at my guy that she didn't even seem to notice I'd stashed my drugs in her back. She was still fuming mad and ready to lash out. And as several squad cars screeched to a stop in the parking lot, she appeared grateful for some backup.

“What's the problem here?” a patrolman asked as he jumped out of his car, one hand on the butt of his gun, the other holding his flashlight, which he was shining on us.

“I don't have any problems that I'm aware of, officer,” I said, smiling politely. “Unless it's illegal to hang out with your buddies.”

He shined his light directly into my eyes, and I resisted the urge to flinch. No way would I give him the pleasure or satisfaction of seeing me flinch. I simply squinted my eyes and continued to stare straight at him.

“There was a noise complaint called in just a few minutes ago. I see what the problem is now,” he said. “As long as I'm out here, mind if I have a look around?”

“My pleasure,” I said, holding my hands up, telling my boys that it was okay to cooperate.

I hoped that through my actions, I communicated to them that we had nothing to be afraid of and to not do anything stupid. My second-in-command, Roy, looked at me, raising an eyebrow as if to ask me what happened to the drugs I'd been holding. I shrugged to let him know we were cool and that everything would be just fine.

“What's your name, Miss?” the officer asked the girl.

“Anabelle McLain,” she said softly. “I live in apartment 204 and I'm the president of this apartment building's association. I just came down here to ask these guys to be quiet.”

Considering the fact that she was dressed in pajamas with little hearts on the bottoms, the cop saw what I saw – a girl who wasn't a threat or a part of this – and didn't even stop to question her. Why should he? She was just doing her job. She was a sweet, innocent-looking girl in pajama bottoms with a cute little pink backpack. Hell, she could be with us and be a full patch member, but because of how she looked, no one would believe it. She stood out like a sore thumb amongst the tatted up, leather-wearing members of the Cossacks.

“Well, we'll handle it from here, Miss. You're free to go back to bed,” the officer said, handing her a card. “I'm Officer Mark Mahoney and I'd be happy to help you if you have any additional problems. Just give me a call if you do.”

“Thank you,” she said, holding the card in her hand.

I was a little nervous and watched to see if she'd reach around and place it in her backpack. Thankfully, though, she didn't. She held onto the card and turned toward the apartment building – and me – before giving me a really dirty look and said, “Don't make me use this.”

And with that, Anabelle was walking back toward her place – drugs in tow – leaving me and my boys to talk to the police. Considering we had nothing on us now, I knew it wouldn't be a problem. At least not with the cops. The Incas on the other hand – well, I'd need to get their drugs back to them. Sooner rather than later.

My mind wasn't on that, though. Instead, I was focused on watching the girl's ass as she walked away. What a sexy little thing she was. Petite, but just curvy enough to give you something to grab onto. And, boy, I sure would have liked to grab onto that tight little ass of hers sometime. Also sooner rather than later.