Whistler by K.L. Savage

“Come on, Cupcake. Let’s talk in private.”

“No.” The word leaves my mouth for the first time in years. I’ve never been able to say it before, but I know I can say it to Whistler because he won’t hit me or punish me for standing my ground.

“Cupcake,” he tries again and reaches for me, but I back away until my back hits someone’s table.

“Sorry,” I tell them and see Tutu and Birdie giving me a sympathetic smile, one that doesn’t show teeth.

A genuine grin always shows teeth. Without them showing, you can tell everything a person is thinking or feeling. And right now, these two bikers feel bad for me.

Tutu pats the top of my hand and the hawk caws at me which has me flinching. I have no reason to be scared of a bird, but that mother fucker is huge. Its talons are the size of my hands.

“No, Whistler. Tell me now. I don’t want us to get distracted and lose my nerve being alone with you. And before you tell me, tell me why you haven’t.”

He doesn’t try to touch me, but he does stand closer. “I only wanted to keep you safe. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”

“That’s why you took me to the beach.”

“It’s one of the reasons. All the others were selfish because I wanted to be with you. You wanted to go to the beach, so I took you.”

“Okay. What’s going on that’s so important for you to have to lie to me?” I cross my arms and wish I were wrapping them around his waist to hold him instead. He looks so heartbroken— stricken. Is he mad that he has been caught? Or mad that he wasn’t honest?

“The two members from your dad’s crew? The two that died in the car accidents?”

God, yes. How could I forget? They were new and had just started working for us, young and hard workers.

“They didn’t die in car accidents. Kenneth killed them and dropped their bodies here as a warning.”

I gasp, pressing a hand to my stomach as it begins to turn from the horrid truth.

“He wanted me to return you. I obviously wasn’t going to allow that to happen.”

“But now he has your sister, and he killed her boyfriend. She’s being…” I swallow when I remember his hands touching her in ways she didn’t want to be touched.

I’ve felt those same hands on me and each swipe of his palm or glide of his fingers felt like being burned, tainted, and ruined for anyone else’s touch. You can’t recoil, or he tightens his hold. You can’t ask him to stop because he’ll try harder. You can’t say no because Kenneth only hears ‘yes.’

“Taylor’s boyfriend worked for Kenneth.”

“Worked for him? He’s a lawyer.” I replay the video in my head and remember the logo. “What was that sign at the end? Does it have to do with that?”

Whistler sighs and nods. “Kenneth has a big drug empire, and it reaches across the country. He calls the kingdom he has built—”

“Scapegoats,” I say so softly, I barely hear myself finish the statements.

“You know?”

“No. I mean,” I shake my head. “Yes. I’ve heard him talking with his father, but I didn’t think anything of it. I thought they were talking about needing a scapegoat, you know, like a beer or a vacation.”

“Well, they created a scapegoat instead. A small pill—”

“It’s light purple, isn’t it? With the logo on it.” Tears prickle my eyes as the memories play like a flip-book in my mind. “I’ve taken it before. I just thought it was for my anxiety. Kenneth made me take them to calm down so he could—” I turn my head away and become cold when Wesley’s hand slides across my arm. “—It really messes you up. You’re there, but you’re not at the same time. It’s like you can see what’s in front of you, but you can’t feel anything. It almost paralyzes you. I never wanted to take it again. I said I didn’t want to, but he wouldn’t listen. I took it every week for a year before I was finally able to stop. I haven’t taken it since.”

“He was using you as their test subject,” Mercy says.

“I guess so.”

“He’s invested a lot in you then. No wonder he wants you for himself again. He thinks he will be able to make you do whatever he wants you to. You mean getting the product out there faster if he can use you to test it.”

I don’t like how Mercy says it, but it doesn’t make it any less easy to hear.

“It’s easy to take advantage when someone isn’t that bright,” I say sadly.

“Don’t ever talk about yourself like that again, do you understand? You’re fucking brilliant. You’re strong. You’re amazing. You were taken advantage of by a cruel man who knew how to manipulate and use fear as a tactic to get you to do what he wants, but you are fucking unbelievable. Do you hear me?” Whistler grabs the sides of my arms and dips his chin to look at me through the frames of his dark lashes. “You’re unbelievable, and I’ve seen how much you’ve grown being away from him. You’re strong on your own. You don’t need me or anybody to stand on your own two feet. And we aren’t going to hand you over to him. No fucking way in hell.”

“Your sister needs me to show up, Whistler. There’s no way around that. She’ll die if I don’t.”

He turns away from me and shouts, swiping the contents off a table. Beer bottles fly across the room and shatter against the wall, and the smell of alcohol invades my senses.

“I’m not risking you,” he spins around and clutches his chest.

“You can’t risk her either.”

“You don’t think I know that? I’ll think of a hundred different plans because risking you is not an option. It’s not. I don’t care if it kills me.”

“Why? It’s the only logical plan. Give me to him and it will all be over,” I explain as if it is so simple.

“Why? Why?” he yells louder. “Because I fucking love you, Charlie.” He sounds so desperate, pleading, and the look in his eyes is one I haven’t seen before.

Vulnerable.

“I. Love. You.” He hits his chest in tandem with his words. “I’m not giving that up, not for fucking anything. Do you understand me? I don’t care if I have to burn this entire earth to the ground or sacrifice myself, risking you is not an option to me.”

“Wesley.” I take a step forward and glide my hands across the top of his, curling my fingers around his and pull the tight grip he has on his cut away. Unclenching his fingers, I press them against my cheek. “Wesley,” I choke out his name through tears.

“I love you, Cupcake. Damn it, please don’t make me give you up. I won’t survive it.”

“I love you too, Wesley,” I finally manage to say back.

He jerks away and grips my face tighter than he ever has, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. His lips claim mine and as his tongue sweeps inside my mouth, I forget where we are and why we are standing here in the middle of the room until someone clears their throat.

Whistler breaks the kiss, and a few lighthearted chuckles surround us. “Please, don’t do anything that will risk me losing you,” he begs, hushed yet trying hard to keep his happiness at bay. Even through the trials of the situation, he manages to find happiness because I love him.

I’ve never had a man feel that way about me before.

“I’ll save you. I’ll save my sister. And I’ll kill Kenneth. I promise, Charlie.”

I believe him and while I understand his wants, there is a part of me that wants to kill Kenneth myself for everything he’s ever done to me.

The moment is interrupted when Princess barges through the door, a stranger in his grasp. Princess has a cut above his eye, and he tosses the man onto the floor. “Found this asshole lurking while making rounds,” he says.

Whistler pulls me behind him, and Mercy pushes by us and kicks the guy to his back, then wraps a hand around his throat. “Who are you?” he asks. “What’s this?” He turns the guy’s arm over and there’s a fresh tattoo of the Scapegoat logo. “One of his grunts?” Mercy throws his head back and the sound is boisterous and anything but funny. It’s ironic― a forced, sardonic laughter. “Oh, you’re a stupid son of a bitch, aren’t you? You realize he sent you here to kill you, right?”

The guy keeps his mouth shut and Whistler grabs his bat from the table, the nails protruding from it digging grooves into the wood. He uses it as a walking stick until he is by the intruder and places the end of the bat against the man’s chin. He applies enough pressure for the nails to draw blood, red drops dribbling down his chin.

“Did you really not think this through? Coming to a biker’s clubhouse in the middle of the day? Kenneth must not have told you what happens when the enemy graces our doorsteps. Let’s give you a proper introduction.” Mercy pulls the man’s arm back and twists it until there is a sick crunch. “You’re going to tell us everything you know, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you,” the guy glowers, spit spraying from his mouth as he speaks.

Mercy stands, lifts his leg, and stomps on the man’s arm, a clear and crisp snap resonating in the room. The stranger screams from the agony and I have to look away. I hide my face against Whistler’s back because the sight of the Scapegoat’s arm bent in two is more than I can handle.

I’ve felt broken bones like that before. I don’t need to see them again.

“How about I break every bone in your body until you tell me what you know? And then if you don’t, I’ll start taking fingers and toes.” Mercy kicks the man in the stomach and flips him to his back, pressing his boot against his chest. “And then I’ll start dropping your body parts in the desert.”

“Actually, Prez. Don’t we have a friend in NOLA that needs to feed his gator? We could always send him the extra parts,” Whistler offers.

“Well, now that you mention it, Whistler, Happy does need some fresh food.” Mercy snaps his fingers at One. “Take him to the room in the middle upstairs. Whistler? Bring your bat. Like you said, we aren’t sacrificing anyone. Not today.”

One and I.E.D drag the Scapegoat up the stairs and Whistler tries to leave. I hold him back. “What are you going to do?” I ask him.

“I’m going to prove a point and send this fucker FedEx to all the flyover states.” Whistler drops his bat onto his shoulder and gives me a grin. “Don’t worry, Cupcake. We’ll talk more, but everything will be okay. I’ll be okay. This isn’t my first rodeo dealing with the enemy and it won’t be the last.”

“I want it to be the last.” I hold onto the side of his neck with my hand and brush my thumb along the faint hickey I left on him when we were at the beach.

I blush at the memory.

“In this life, there is no such thing as ‘the last’ time, Cupcake.” He gives me a peck and begins walking toward the steps. “Go update you dad. He needs to know. He needs protection too and so does the rest of the crew. It’s best if everyone stays here. Strength in numbers.”

I watch him run up the steps until I can’t see him anymore and sigh as I look around. Socks and Anvil are down here, along with Bookie, Birdie, and Tutu.

Everyone acts as if this is another day at the office, but no one knows Kenneth like I do. He won’t rest until he has me in his sights.

And if I’m good at anything, it’s giving Kenneth what he wants.