Dirty Bird (Caged #2) Read online
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Copyright 2016 HQ Frost & M. Dauphin
Cover design © 2016 Inked Imprints
Unwanted, unloved, untrusted.
The story of my fucking life. And now here I am. A prisoner to a human more conniving than myself.
Although… he might be dead. He better be dead.
Judging by the amount of blood he was covered in as he dragged me to this room, I'm confident that he's dead. There's a pang of emotion somewhere deep down. Not sadness or worry. Some other emotion, or perhaps it's a combo of both but it's so minuscule it's not registering correctly. Or maybe it's the fact I'm still so aloof to others that I can't conjure emotion properly.
Well, that's not entirely true.
Currently I'm invoking rage that I want to take out on Lucas's corpse until he's a beautiful puddle of crimson, and then I want to add a monsoon of red rain when I deal with Jasper.
If it weren't for Lucas fucking Acey, I would have beat Jasper in his own game. Whether that would be dying by his hand, or me defeating him, I would have either crushed his world or claimed his empire in one form. The empire that's not fucking his!
The boiling rage inside me makes me feel like my blood is bubbling and my flesh is searing. It's causing sweat beads on my face and I let out a feral scream as the butt of my fists slam against the large wooden doors I was dragged through and locked behind in this tiny fucking room. It's not much bigger than my walk-in closet back home and I'm surrounded by cement except the double wooden doors that don't even budge when I beat on them with fists and feet.
As much as I claw and slam, it's no use and my shrieks of insanity aren't even echoing, telling me they're not traveling farther than this room.
How could I get myself into this position? How could I do this to not only myself but Bronson?
Oh god, Bronson.
Lucas will die a slow painful death for what he's done to my boy. That boy. Not my boy. That boy. The one human being I was capable of feeling sentiments for. And whatever I thought I was feeling for Lucas was strictly me losing my shit. Getting caught up in my own head and letting it contort to some twisted idea of feelings. As I sit here now in pitch-blackness with the only sound being my own breathing, I have full control over myself. Over what is real and what is a muddled idea of something I know nothing about.
Love.
I will not fool myself into believing I don't know compassion. My feelings for Bronson show compassion. But I will not fool myself into thinking I actually knew what love felt like.
I am Megan Porter. Unwanted, unloved… fucking caged like a dirty bird.
ONE MONTH AGO
"Where's Birdie going?" Bronson's voice won't stop fucking whining in my ear and for the first time in awhile, I'm not happy that he's here.
I need to follow her. She's pulling something, I fucking know it. The look in her eyes… that fucking kiss.
That was a goodbye kiss.
"Hey, buddy." I kneel down, setting him on the floor next to me. "What'd Birdie tell you we were going to do tonight?"
His face contorts and I can tell he's trying his hardest to remember something, but I know nothing he tells me is going to be enough. She wouldn't share whatever plans she has with a five-year-old that likes to talk.
"I don't remember. We grabbed some things. She was so fast. The bird! We left La Petite!" His face is pure shock and mourning for a bird that's right across the street.
"The bird will be fine, bud." I huff, and stand.
My gut is telling me she's on the way to do something completely fucking stupid… for so many goddamned reasons. I just need to know exactly what she's doing before I ruin shit.
The tracker!
I completely forgot I left a tracker on her car. It's been a while since I've had to use it, but it's still functioning I bet!
"Hey, Bronson, you wanna watch a show while I get some things together?"
"Yeah!" He runs to the living room and throws himself on the couch. I should be getting this kid in bed right now, but I need to figure this out first.
Once his show is on, I bolt upstairs to the guest room and lock the door. I don't want him seeing all this set-up. Then there's questions and I don't like questions.
I fucking hate it when people question me.
It takes no time at all to find the tracker and to solidify my suspicions.
"Mother fucker." The line on the screen shows the car moving straight toward the one place she isn't fucking welcome.
My. Fucking. House.
"Bronson!" my voice bellows through the house as I run down the stairs, throwing on my shoes as I go. He peeks his head over the couch. "We gotta go. You're going to Alice's house for a little bit. Something just came up. Come on, we gotta go." I snatch him off the couch and practically run out the front door, not giving any fucks whether I locked up or not. He's silent, but I can tell he's scared, so before I hand him off I kneel down and place my hands on his shoulders. "It'll all be good, buddy. I'll be back to get you soon," I lie.
This is the end of everything.
By the time I get in my car the nerves in my system are running rampant. She's going to ruin it all tonight, all because she couldn't fucking listen to me and do what I said! And goddammit, that's one of the things I like most about the bitch… she has a fucking brain and she's not scared of anything!
Blowing past the red lights and stop signs, I dare any cop to stop me tonight. I'll have his head on a platter by morning if he does.
I'm Lucas mother-fucking Acey. No one fucks with me.
Everything is a blur on my way to the house.
Finding her is easy thanks to Jasper's little game; breaking her is going to be the hard part. She's as stubborn as they come.
***
IN MY HOUSE
She's under me, pinned to the ground looking up at me like I just shattered her entire fucking world.
You're welcome, princess. Mine was shattered the minute you waltzed into it.
"I gave you the fucking opportunity to leave, Megan! I didn't want to love you, but I fucking fell and then I couldn't kill you. I gave you a chance! But you didn't listen! You just don't listen to a goddamned word I say! If I were Jasper, you would have fucking listened!" I'm fucking trembling with rage as I keep her pinned under me. "I told you to go. I don't have room in my life for you, and you just didn't listen. So here we are, Megs. You wanted to be a queen? You wanted this castle? Well here's your king, babe." All my weight crushes down on her as I open my arms, moving closer to her face before I softly touch the spot I hit her. "You might have once been Jasper's, but you're not going anywhere anytime soon, Megs. You're here, your mine. You're my Little Bird." I grab her throat, rattling off shit, spilling my guts to this beautiful bitch
, not even remotely aware of what's happening around me. I shouldn't be telling her this much, but she's not going to last long enough for her to spill our secret anyway.
"Lucas, please," she manages through the tight grip I have on her neck.
"Let her go, Luke. Let her go and get the fuck off of her." That is the last fucking order Jasper will ever have for me.
I release her throat but don't move from on top of her and then I see him, aiming a gun at me.
"She's been mine from the start. You didn't even know of her existence until you told me you needed someone to run shit on the west coast. You wanted a fresh face, young. I found her, I trained her for the past seven years. She's mine."
With a laugh, I sigh. "The game ended when she defied orders. You fall back into place now, Jasper. You know your place. Under me. I am your boss and you're aiming a gun at me?" The fact he has the balls to do this is making my already shot nerves snap and burst. "At me!" I scream, my words echoing.
Then, the one sound that can bring me out of a murderous rage blows through my ears from behind me.
Mother fucker. The pain radiating through my shoulder is nothing compared to the rage I feel towards every human being in this room right now
"Lucas!" I hear her voice but all I see is black. Her voice is frantic, her hands roaming over me.
Rage blacks out the pain radiating through me.
I hear Jasper mumble something and as my eyes focus on the beautiful face in front of me, I can't tell if I want to murder her for bringing all this on, or fuck her until she submits to me.
"Goddammit!" A growl comes from my chest, pain not an issue right now as I grab onto her arm and pull her to her feet before dragging her down the hall.
I can feel the warmth of my blood seeping down my clothes but the only thing I care about right now is taking care of this little bitch that thought she could snake her way into my life… into my mother fucking heart.
Look what she's cause!
"Let me see the wound!" she shrieks, trying to free herself from my grasp.
Each time she pulls away I grab even tighter, making my blood pump harder.
"Fucking cunt," I mumble as my world starts going blurry, but I blink past it.
This fucking bitch won't be seeing the light of day again until I have her under my thumb. Nobody crosses me.
"In!" I bark, bracing myself on the wall and shoving her in the room before I slam the door, locking it from the outside.
The minute the door is locked, the entire world goes black.
***
THREE WEEKS AGO
Her hand comes around my dick and she starts pumping me as she kisses me feverishly. Like there's no tomorrow, and this is the last time we're going to be together. The harder she grinds on me, the harder I get. I don't want to come like this, I need to be inside her.
As if she can read my mind, she goes to her knees and grins at me. Opening her mouth, she damn near swallows me.
"Fuck, Megan," the groan comes out of me as she starts sucking hard enough to hollow out her cheeks.
Those beautiful brown eyes stare up at me the whole time.
"Get up. I need to fuck you." She pops off my dick and wipes her mouth.
Standing, she turns around and bends over without me having to tell her, showing me exactly what I want to see.
"Fuck." I hiss slamming into her.
Over and over I pound, her moans getting louder and louder, and just as I start my release, she-
"Luke." The scratchy voice that beckons me from my dream pisses me off. "Get up, man," he announces as he opens the blinds, letting the blaring sunlight in.
For one, dreaming of my girl is the only way to make it through something like this, and for two, the voice belongs to the very man that fucking shot me.
Jasper. My own brother. He shot me, and for what? A girl?
"Fuck off, Jasper." I groan as I try to sit up. "Jesus Christ." Finding his gaze, I try to find something different from the man I've known my entire life.
What the hell made him do that to me?
Megan; the bitch that snaked her way into my heart just to turn brother against brother and end us in a situation like this.
"How are you feeling?" He's standing across the room from me, arms crossed over his chest while he leans against the wall. "You've been out for a while."
I scowl at the trace of a smile on his face. "You happy I didn't kill your fuck toy? That what this smile is about?"
He walks over to me and I notice he's tight fisted as he glares at me. "I had to fucking do it. You… She… Fuck!" He runs his hands through his hair and starts pacing. "She fucked with us, Luke. She fucked with us and she's going to pay for it. She's the goddamned reason you almost died! If it wasn't for her—" He pauses, shaking his head. "The bitch needs to pay." The menacing voice coming from him I'm used to, but knowing what he's done to her in the past, he's not going to be allowed anywhere near her anytime soon.
"No," I growl sitting up and gritting my teeth through the pain. "She's not going to pay for anything. I get it, Jasper. You love her and you made a rash decision, not thinking that it would lead to this." I motion towards my bad arm. "Maybe you meant for it to graze me and give her the go ahead to run for it, I don't know, but what you need to understand is that she's mine."
He narrows his eyes at me. I let him have his fun, but now it's time he falls back. He knows his place. He's known his place this entire time. He just hasn't known that I've fallen irrevocably in love with the one woman he's addicted to.
"I'm not asking, Jasper. I'm telling. Have you seen her? Since I've been recovering?" I glare at him, already knowing this answer.
"Of course!" he snaps. "I had to make sure she didn't kill herself. She needed food, water, a fucking toilet. You threw her in a room and just left her there."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Act like you care. From now on you don't touch her. You don't see her anymore. She's mine to deal with, you understand?"
He's never went against me in the fifteen plus years that we've been a team. He knows the bloodline doesn't include him, and he knows his place isn't at the top.
That's my place.
But now I'm questioning everything, and all because of a woman.
"Where is she now?" Last thing I really remember is shoving her into the connection between the main floor and the basement.
In my rage I never thought of leaving her there. I just needed her to pay for going against me, and realize her place. Next to me not on top. Well... not out of the bedroom at least.
I don't blame her for me being shot, but if it weren’t for her we never would've been in that situation. In a way, I guess it is because of her, but I don't lay blame there.
I lay blame on the man across the room from me now, but I don't hold it against him either. I know Megan fucked with both of our heads for way longer than we knew. She's been playing us this entire time. She's insane, and makes the men in love with her do insane fucking things in the name of 'love'. Her eyes hide it well, but she knew exactly what she was doing.
Unfortunately for her, she made the head of the entire California drug cartel fall in love with her just to go and shatter him.
Wrong fucking game, Megan.
"She's in the basement. You want me to bring her to you?" He looks hopeful, like I'm going to forget that I just told him he's not to see her.
Idiot.
"No. Leave her there. Once I'm better I'll make my way down to her."
"What about food?"
"Letting you into that room after what I've seen you do to her isn't a smart choice. You'd kill her."
"I'd never do such a thing!" he bellows, storming to my bed. His fists are tight again; I can tell he wants to destroy shit right now but for some reason he's holding it in.
I roll my eyes and sit up, swinging my feet slowly to the floor. "You will bring her food, make sure she eats it, then right back up. Fifteen minutes tops. I will be waiting for you each fucking time. Drop
the food, make her eat, and leave. No more goddamned contact."
"You don't need to fucking babysit—"
"Stop," I order, standing up and ignoring the pain in my arm.
As I reach for my jacket he stops mid-stride and glares at me. I hate being crippled, but right now I have no other choice.
"Jasper," I sigh. "What was the number one rule when I brought you on to this mission?"
"Nothing leaves these walls."
"Yes, and the other one?"
"Never question your ability to run this empire." He sounds like a child scorned and I'm preparing for an eye roll, but luckily it never comes.
I'm right handed, so having to punch him with my injured arm really isn't going to feel good.
"Right," I say. "Word of her being in that basement never leaves this house."
"What about Megan though? She's smart, Luke."
She tried bringing this empire down, yes. She tried taking over, yes. But she failed.
"She can't do anything from a basement, Jasper."
He looks at me and narrows his eyes. "You're not letting her go, are you?"
He needs to stop questioning me before he ends up locked up as well. I can feel my sanity fraying with every inching second and if he doesn't watch it, I'll put him away too. Simply for questioning me.
"What I do with my prisoner is no concern of yours," I growl. "Get out." I nod towards the door but he doesn't move. "You're pushing all my mother fucking buttons, Jasper! Get the fuck out of my room!"
He shakes his head and leaves, slamming the door behind him.
As soon as he's out, I collapse back on the bed.
Fuck me.
I feel like the entire room is spinning.
I've been useless for an entire week. Only waking long enough to eat something or use the bathroom. Today I finally get the urge to move around and it has to be when Jasper questions my ability to run shit.
Fuck him. He needs to remember his place that he played so well for the last fifteen years.
After tossing my jacket on the bed next to me, I stare at the door and try to figure out what brought me here.