Santana
I place my palms against my burning cheeks as I watch the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen walk out of the diner’s doors. He was only here for a few minutes, but I feel like my world has fallen off its axis. It was just something about him. From the moment he walked through the door, he commanded the attention of everyone in the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. My body was practically vibrating with my arousal.
Even though he was with a young guy who would have been closer to my age, I couldn’t take my eyes off his gorgeous dark hair, blue eyes, and brooding face. His six-foot frame and muscled body felt so good against mine. I almost melted when he spoke. His voice was as sweet as honey and deep and gravely.
I don’t know what came over me. My nipples bead, and my sheath throb with the need to be filled. Sighing with frustration, I move back to the counter and begin to pile the dirty dishes. I can’t believe what just happened. I’m still reeling from the contact of his firm body against mine.
Right now, all I want to do is call him back and ask him to kiss me. Unfortunately, the rest of my shift isn’t as eventful. Once I’m done with the customers and cleaning up, I make my way home. Pulling my short bubble jacket close to my body, I walk to the nearest train stop, which, thankfully, is only six blocks away. My mind keeps wandering back to the gorgeous man at the diner and his intense blue eyes that I don’t see the danger until it’s too late.
I’m past the entrance of the subway’s stairs when a pair of greasy hands wrap around my waist and throat. Struggling against the man’s tight hold, I kick out and flail until the man slams me against a nearby wall. Pain radiates through my body at the impact, but I don’t give up. Turning to face my assailant, I cry out when he tackles me against the wall. Cringing back, I gaze into my attacker’s bloodshot eyes, scraggly beard and flinch when he tries to slam his mouth against mine. The smell of rotten eggs and urine overwhelm my senses, but I don’t let it beat me. Before his lips meet mine, I pull my head back, slam my forehead down on his mouth and kick him in the stomach. The man groans and backs away, but he’s not out. Before he can reach for me, I scurry towards the stairs. I’m halfway up when he wraps his grimy hand around my ankle and drags me back down. Agony courses up my knees as they scrape and smash against the hard ground. Gripping the stairs, I try to lift myself up, but it’s no hope. At least that’s how I feel until a large shadow picks the man up from the floor and slams his body hard against a nearby wall. The man slumps back with a startled groan and slides down the floor.
Glancing back up at the solitary form of my protector, I gasp with shock at the sight that greets me. I guess my night hasn’t gotten worse after all.
DeclanA harried Hunter meets me near Priest’s garage door. He’s pacing in place and coursing his fingers through his hair nervously, so you know he’s stressed. “Sorry for interrupting you, man. But we found something you really need to hear. Go on back, Priest is waiting for you.” I nod my head and stride purposely through the garage. This is no ordinary body-shop. Priest owns a street racing garage. The garage is located in an industrial area surrounded by aluminum fencing. It’s about the size of a factory, but inside it is wall-to-wall steel with industrial lifters and equipment. There are at least sixteen cars in various stages of readiness littered around the large space. I pass by Priest’s prized black Tesla and make my way to his office.Several men in jumpers wave as I pass by. Once I reach Priest’s office door, I step in without knocking. “Priest, this better be good because I was in the middl
SantanaWhy is it that when someone dies, you can forgive their most grievous sins? However, when they are alive, you retain your anger and let it fester until it almost swallows you whole. I look at my stepbrother Connor, who is swallowed by his oversized sports jacket. His shoulders are slumped as he gazes down at the two caskets being lowered to the ground. He looks so young and desolate, trying to look grown-up. But he’s just a boy. Sadness overwhelms me when I see his trembling shoulders and tear-stained face. He’s only sixteen and has known only pain throughout his short life. I’ve tried to protect him, but it has been a difficult task.Now our parents are dead, and all I feel is a relief. What am I going to do with a sixteen-year-old boy? I think to myself. I’m only twenty-one years old. Don’t get me wrong, Connor and I have had it harder than most. Our parents were a train wreck from the moment they met. It was seventeen y
Declan- PresentI control my breathing and take cover behind a wall as I hone in on my target’s location. Holding my gun up near my ear, I listen intently for his footsteps to come closer. Suddenly, a figure darts into the open warehouse door. His footsteps echo in the silence of the empty, abandoned warehouse. I can hear the crackle of his shoes as he tries to stealthily make his way across the floor. Slivers of light slip through some of the broken windows managing to penetrate the darkness of the empty room. I watch intently as the shadow moves closer to my hiding place and let him take a few more steps before I take him. Collins is holding a gun in his hand as he runs his gaze around the room nervously. Before he moves past me, I reach for his gun hand and elbow him in the face. He falls on his back, holding his nose as his gun skids across the floor. Moving forward, I step in front of him and point my gun with its silencer at his head.The bastard rolls over
Santana“Connor!” I call out to my brother as I make my way out of the room. You’d think that after all of these years of caring for him, I’d be less disturbed by the thought that I have treated my brother like a baby. At this point, we’ve both established a routine where he turns off his alarm, and I have to drag him out of bed every morning. “Connor!” I call out in frustration with a solid shake to his shoulders. Anyone would say that an eighteen-year-old should be a little more responsible, but in the case of Connor, they’d be wrong.Groaning and yawning, Connor turns over and gives me a grouchy look. “What the hell San? What time is it?” I look at my cheap plastic watch then back at him. “It’s seven in the morning. Classes start in sixteen minutes. Get up!” He rolls back in the seat and gives me his back. “I don’t want to go to school.”Narrowing my
Chapter 7: Blood will tellDeclanOnce the Confradia men take Collins away, I stroll into the nearest bar, ready to wash away the sins of the day and find an even keel. A small part of me feels bad for Collins because his family was put in a precarious position. But another part doesn’t because he brought it on to himself. Taking a seat on a nearby stool, I gesture for the bartender, Ronny, to serve me a drink.Striding towards me, Ronny gives me a welcoming smile. “Declan! It’s good to see you.” He calls out with delight as he stretches his arm out. Ronny’s old biker with tattoos all over his body and thinning gray hair. His leather Harley Davidson vest strains around his muscled shoulder as he leans over the bar’s counter and shakes my hand. “Hey, Ronny. How are you?” Ronny shrugs his shoulders. “Same as always. Just pounding the pavement every day. How’s it going with you?” I shake my hea
SantanaI’m beyond exhausted tonight. All I feel is relieved when I get to the apartment. As usual, Connor is sitting in front of the kitchen counter with his computer in front of him. “Hey, Connor,” I rest my bag on top of the living room table. Connor nods his head but never looks up from the computer screen. Nothing ever changes. I think with an exasperated smirk. “What’s up?”Connor shrugs. “Nothing.” That’s when I see the picture on the counter. “What are you doing, Connor?” Connor picks up the picture and points it in my direction. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this picture all day. I mean, it doesn’t make sense. Do I have a brother? Is this kid my brother?” He asks. From the set of his shoulder and tight lips, I can tell that he’s going through something. He seems frustrated yet hopeful at the same time.“I don’t know, Connor. Maybe
DeclanI meet Priest as soon as I get to the body shop. “Declan…good, you’re here.” He mutters sarcastically. Unperturbed, I take a seat in a nearby chair and drily ask. “Cut the shit, Priest. You know I’m busy. What is this about?” Priest smirks and walks around his desk to stand in front of me. “Actually, I think it’s best if I show you. Follow me, Declan.” He gestures to the door, takes his walking stick, and walks ahead of me. Even though he had corrective surgery to regain his eyesight, he’s still walking around like he’s blind. I guess it’s taking some time for him to adjust to his new eyes. They’re kind of freaky when you look at them, which isn’t to say that women are deterred.Releasing a resigned sigh, I follow Priest down the corridor until we make it to one of the rooms used to detail cars. Curious, I look inside and see a young man tied to a chair. He looks unharmed.
SantanaOh, my God, it’s him. I can’t believe he’s here and that he’s Connor's brother. When I saw him standing next to Connor, looking so imposing and masculine, I thought I was going to faint. I think fate is laughing at me. How is it possible that the only man I haven’t been able to forget is related to my brother? I catalog his features, trying to figure out how I missed the similarities. Unlike Connor, Declan is rugged and masculine. He hasn’t changed much. His muscles strain against his perfectly fitted suit jacket, and his jaw is firm with fashionable stubble. He has high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and a patrician nose. His eyes are perfect with long dark lashes, and his skin is a golden hue. I can’t take my eyes off him.Unfortunately, as gorgeous as he is, I can tell that he’s a lot more like Alistair than I thought. I seethe with anger at his words.“Look, I can see that you&