Radge by Esther E. Schmidt
CHAPTER ONE
Present day
– MARIBETH –
The door of the garage slides open and instead of slowing down, I increase my speed. Hitting the rear brake pedal, I send the bike into a tailspin to take the turnaround–a familiar action I’ve perfected over the years–and come to a complete stop once I’m in my parking spot.
Screw parking the normal way; I’ve never been a person who follows standards. My father gave me a motorcycle for my sixteenth birthday. I was riding mini bikes when I was six, followed by dirt bikes; you can say my father raised me as his son while my mother raised me like the lady I need to be in this mafia world where my father–and his before him–built his empire.
For instance, my mother would rather have me riding a horse instead of this iron one my father bought me, but I guess she indulges my reckless side as long as I follow her advice and lessons on how to act as a lady. Not just a lady, but one who is a mafia princess and who needs to live up to the expectations that comes with it.
Boring, annoying, and most of all not part of my ambitions. I would rather listen to my father’s talks about business and see what choices he makes and how it pays off in the long run. My father not only thrives in the mafia world, he’s standing at the top of it; the mafia boss himself.
I might be his daughter, but like I mentioned, he raised me as his son. Even if I have three younger brothers at the age of twelve, eleven, and nine years-old. He’s not only taught me how to fight, torture, and kill, he’s kept me in the loop about everything businesswise as well.
You might say he’s created a function for me that sits between the consigliere and the underboss. As a woman we both know I can’t become the underboss or follow in his footsteps, but it didn’t stop him from raising me as his trusted soundboard.
The reason he opened up and trusted me with this load of delicate information was because he was badly injured when I was a teenager. I was with him inside the SUV when an attempt to assassinate him failed.
They strategically attacked not only my father, but my uncle, the underboss as well. My uncle was assassinated while my father only lost part of his leg because I saved the both of us by killing the two who came after us.
During my father’s rehabilitation we talked a lot and grew closer than we already were. He knew I could take all the gruesome stories; the hard reality of the mafia world and how monsters exist in every shape or size.
Because I’ve seen and endured monsters; it’s all part of being raised in a mafia family. I was nine years old when I was kidnapped and discovered this world isn’t all sunshine and roses. It’s about blood. Either through a family connection, making that of an enemy flow onto the streets, or coating your hands with the crimson of revenge.
The only reason I escaped my kidnappers was due to my tomboy skills that allowed me to climb a steep wall, open a window, and crawl through it. During my escape I was injured on a fence, but I did manage to run and find help. It’s the reason why my father never stopped seeing me as the strong daughter he raised.
We have a unique bond, and although I spend equally as much time with my mother, it’s different. It’s as if she’s always pushing me to become someone I’m not where my father leaves me be while praising my input when we work together.
Maybe it’s me. I always did like getting dirty and rough way more than applying makeup, wearing heels, and spending money on clothes and hours of shopping. And I’m not even talking about social gatherings where I’m expected to look, and act the high-class woman status part.
Hitting the kickstand, I kill my Harley Sportster 1200 and throw my leg over to dismount. I should have taken the long way home to let my thoughts cool down after meeting my friend, Dara. Damn, what a mess. My heart breaks for her but also for the domino effect that happened after the horrific event she endured.
She was raped two nights ago. Her honor has been tainted and in this mafia world it holds an even bigger meaning. The impact of this fact was like throwing a bomb. Not to mention, it caused a war between us and the motorcycle club who transports our weapons.
Dara has been my friend growing up. She’s the daughter of one of my father’s capos. Her father contacted mine about what had happened to her, and I wanted to see her right away but she told everyone she wanted to be left alone.
My father ordered me to stay away from her–to honor her request–but I couldn’t. Even if she specifically told my father she didn’t want to see me. I still needed her to know she wasn’t alone; I was there for her whatever she needed.
Hell, the magnitude of my anger was so massive, I wanted to go and kill the person who did it with my own bare hands. Until my father gave me all the information he had a few hours ago and explained how retaliation already took place. A snowball effect that caused a war between the MC and the mafia.
Yet now? Now I know retaliation was the wrong choice, because my unannounced visit with Dara gave me information we should have had right after she was raped. She shouldn’t have lied, even if she was scared and the horrible things she had to endure.
This because my father unknowingly started a war that should never have erupted in the first place. The one who raped Dara forced her to lie. And by doing this she accused an innocent man who paid with his life for something he didn’t do.
I’m furious she spread lies and with it caused a war with not only a very dangerous motorcycle club, but innocent lives were lost all while the real scumbag is walking around with a smile on his fucking face because he got what he wanted.
And what he wanted was cooperation between two mafia families. Specifically, the weapon transport the MC was doing for us. All of it was a well-planned setup. No wonder Dara wanted me to stay away from her since she could never keep a secret from me; I can poke right through a lie when I’m facing a person.
One of the many reasons why my father likes to keep me in the loop with everything business wise and thank fuck he did because I know everything inside and out and right now I’m the only one who knows exactly what happened with Dara and why.
She was used like a pawn in a plan that Bane has been trying to pull off for years. Dara was caught into their web a few weeks ago. She shared with me how a man in his forties was giving her attention and secretly gave her gifts. She was swept off her feet, and while we are brought up by different standards, she was affected by the secret male attention she received.
When I reminded her how her father was already looking for a suitable husband, she vowed to withstand his advances. Women in the mafia world don’t have the luxury of following their hearts; it’s all about forging alliances. She did mention he was a capo but she also told me she would tell him to stop the next time she’d meet him.
Yes, the dude even got her to sneak out of the freaking house. And did I mention the whole over forty part while she’s almost three years younger than I am? She’s barely sixteen for Christ’s sake.
A few days ago, Dara explained to me how stopping to see him didn’t work because he went to her father to demand they were to be married. She showed me a picture of the guy she secretly took with her phone and I instantly recognized him as Rory Mickle, a capo from Bane, another mafia family. I knew right then and there it screamed disaster and I mentioned it to my father so he could put a stop to it.
Talking about disasters, I hope to hell my father is able to salvage a bond with the MC that he shattered beyond repair when he killed the president last night during a standard transport meeting. He shouldn’t have retaliated this quickly, and he wouldn’t have, but that scumbag responsible for everything made a few of his men join my father for the meeting.
And seriously? Knowing all the details now? This betrayal was brilliantly planned and put into action. Almost fucking flawless. And they would have gotten away with it if Dara didn’t have one weakness; her friendship with me.
I unfasten my helmet and the sound of my mother’s voice immediately assaults my senses. “One of these days, Meribeth.”
A soft murmur and one glance in her direction lets me know she’s swallowing a few curse words right after my full name until she adds on a steady breath, “Your father has been asking where you are. He has something to tell you.”
“I’ll go see him now because I have something to tell him as well.” I place the helmet on top of my bike and try to stroll past my mother but she stops me.
“You need to change first. I’ve put clothes on your bed. Be sure to put your hair up. All of it, and apply some makeup.”
Makeup? “Since when do I need to get fancy when I talk to dad? Not to mention, I don’t have time to polish up my looks: what I have to tell him is urgent.”
“Whatever it is, it will have to wait. We have guests you need to meet. And you better not disappoint us. This is important, there’s a lot at stake.” She folds her hands in front of her and raises her chin.
Disappoint us? Why would she warn me not to disappoint the both of them? The way her thumb is rubbing circles over her other hand is something I find concerning. It’s a subtle movement but I’m always observant when it comes to people. I know both my father and my mother inside out. And this little action? It tells me she’s nervous.
“What’s going on?” I question.
She waves her hand and her high heels click on the concrete floor as she struts toward the door. “Hurry up, Meribeth. They are expecting you.”
I should march right into my father’s office and see why my mother is acting suspicious but the truth is, I’ve never defied them. Basically, because they’ve always given me freedom to do as I please. And in a mafia world? That says a lot.
For instance, I’m going to be nineteen in just a handful of days and by now, a mafia princess like me? I should have been tied into an arranged marriage for years. Arranged marriages are common and since my father is the boss, I’m the most wanted woman to have on a made man’s arm.
But like I mentioned, they’ve always given me my freedom. Though, I know my father has mentioned how there isn’t anyone suitable to take me on. There have been quite a few suitors who my father has turned down. The way I was raised; I’m worthy of a great leader, and time will tell who this man would be. His words, not mine.
I’m just thinking I might not survive my wedding night since I’ve got quite the temper and not always succeed in keeping my thoughts from spilling out. Much to my mother’s distaste when it comes to social gatherings where I need to act like the woman she raised.
I release a deep breath and head up the stairs and enter my bedroom. My mother has placed an emerald green evening dress on the bed with a side slit. The black bow high heels on the floor aren’t ones I bought but my mother clearly wants me to wear them.
Diving into the bathroom, I quickly brush my hair and tame my thick, long, and red mass of curls and put it all up into a tight bun. Snatching some underwear from my drawer, I grin when I take a green lace thong and a black lace bra.
My silent defiance to my mother’s fanciness. I mean, there’s no one who sees my mismatched underwear, but I know and it’s a small satisfaction in a shitty situation she always puts me in. Changing into the dress my mother requested, I eye the shoes and decide to go with something different.
I don’t know why she’s nervous or demanding me to get all fancy so I might as well throw her a little off by picking different shoes. Snatching my Versace black Medusa Zipper sandals, I quickly put them on and nod at my reflection.
My mother will go nuts when she sees them. Not only did I pick other shoes than she wanted me to wear, they are sandals. This means my crimson nail polish is showing and I’m wearing an emerald dress. Screw classy, I made the effort with the dress, makeup, and hair.
And my feet are the only thing I like to pamper. I don’t wear earrings–because it hurt the first time my earring got stuck during fight training–or other obvious jewelry for that matter. Except for my golden toe ring and three ankle bracelets I wear on my left foot. Yes, totally girly along with the nail polish but I absolutely love it.
I give one last look in the floor to ceiling mirror and let my hand slide over the curves of my ass. The dress my mother picked accentuates my hourglass figure and the fabric stretches over my thighs and ass. I try to show less cleavage but with my cup size it’s a wasted effort. Again, I wonder why I need to dress like a meat show but my mother is calling my name in an impatient tone.
“Coming,” I snap back and rush out of my room.
I lessen my speed to go down the stairs gracefully but notice it’s just mum standing to the side, waiting for my arrival.
“Are they in his office?” I question the obvious.
“Yes.” She places her hand on my back and gives a slight push between my shoulder blades. “And remember everything I’ve taught you, Meribeth. If there was ever a time to act like a lady, now would be it. Make your father and me proud.”
What the hell is going on? I mentally question once more before I knock on the door and hear my father invite me in. The moment I step inside his office is when fury inside me starts to skyrocket.
For a heartbeat or two I’m stunned and try to think fast on how to react but my father overrides any form of action when he starts to talk. “Beth, sweetheart, please close the door and have a seat. There is a special request for you to accept.”
My brain is two steps ahead due to the knowledge I have–and my father clearly lacks– because if he knew, he would have this traitor locked in our basement or in a warehouse on the edge of town so we can torture him to his fucking death for what he did and caused.
“There’s no way in hell I’m going to marry him or anyone else for that matter,” I spit in anger at Rory Mickle who is standing in my father’s office with a satisfied grin across his face.
He’s one of Bane’s capos. They have wanted a connection with our family for decades but my father never needed them. Not to mention my father knows, due to the tattoo on the assassin’s forearm, that Logan Bane was the one behind the failed assassination on his life and also killed my uncle.
But now? Due to the war that has started–with the motorcycle club Rory caused to happen–he wants me to marry this fucker? The one who raped Dara and set it all in motion? Yeah, my father needs backup to handle this war because an MC consists of several charters instead of just the one in this town. And this is his solution; throwing me in the crossfire to create an alliance between two mafia families.
“Meribeth,” my father thunders. “You don’t know what you’re saying and right now you need to shut your mouth and listen to what we are going to tell you.”
“No, father, I can’t. I have to talk to you about something in private. This can’t wait, please, hear me out.”
I can see it in his eyes how for the first time he’s not going to listen to anything I have to say. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep due to everything he has been dealing with over the past two days–or the fact I spoke up for the first time with another made man present–who knows?
“No,” he snaps and stands from his chair. He smacks his flat hand on his desk to add strength to those two letters before spitting out two more words. “Sit. Down.”
I wince but keep in place as I try to come up with a plan to make my father listen.
A sinister chuckle flows from Rory. “Your daughter is a feisty one. I should ask Bane if I can marry her instead of hooking her up with his son. He might accept with the loss I took when Lynch raped my fiancée.”
Just as I suspected; marrying me forges the bond they need between two mafia families to take on a ruthless MC with several charters nationwide.
The words Rory just said make the hairs on the back of my neck stand out and I point my finger at the scumbag and growl at my father, “Everything that happened is on him. He’s the one who–”
“Enough,” my father thunders, cutting me off.
Rory gives me a condescending look. “This is why women should keep their nose out of business they know nothing about. Your father just mentioned you went for a visit with your little friend, Dara?” He takes his phone from his pocket and puts it to his ear. “Dara, what did you say to Maribeth?”
Oh. Fuck. She’s scared shitless and begged me not to tell anyone. I promised her whatever I told my father would stay between us, but that he would fix what Rory had done. Because she also mentioned Rory still wanted their arranged marriage to happen no matter what. So, she would be forever tied to her rapist.
He pulls the phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker. “Repeat what you just said.”
“It was Lynch.” My friend’s terrified voice fills the air surrounding us. “The president of the motorcycle club. He was the one who took me. He…he raped me on the pool table while the whole club watched,” she recites in a detached voice.
“Dara,” I croak, emotions plaguing me. “You have nothing to fear. Tell the truth. Please.”
Sobs overtake her and Rory ends the connection. “Why are we even discussing this? You heard her and I don’t care what this one here says. Women take no part in business decisions. Now, what can I report back to Bane? Will you agree to a union between your daughter and his son to link the two families? Then we can wipe out the MC together, no matter how many charters they will scrape together to face us. We will secure a fruitful, long term alliance with you supplying the weapons while we handle the transport and distribution.”
“And there you have it,” I seethe. “This is why he and Bane orchestrated all of it, dad. Please don’t listen to him.”
“Stop disrespecting your father, bitch,” Rory growls.
“Watch how you speak to my daughter,” my father snarls.
Finally. I take a deep breath and let some hope bloom due to the fact he just stood up for me. He will think and listen to what I just mentioned. But all hope dies when Rory takes out his phone once more.
“Let’s call Bane and see if he still wants to forge a union when he hears how you raised your daughter.” He gives me a condescending look. “It will take a lot of work to silence a nosy, fowl mouth, disrespectful woman who doesn’t know her place.”
“Bullshit,” I spit, my temper getting the better of me. “You’re bluffing because, like I said, you orchestrated everything you backstabbing rat. No way are you turning down what you want: my father’s weapon supply.”
“Enough,” my father bellows once more. “Beth. You’re excused.”
“What?” I whisper in shock.
“I said.” His hard eyes land on mine. “You’re excused. Like Rory mentioned, we don’t need a woman present when we discuss business. I only needed you to be present when we announced the formal arrangement but I’ll take it from here.”
“Dad, please,” I try again but he gives a hard shake of his head, disappointment filling his gaze. “For once in your life listen and behave like the daughter your mother raised.”
My father’s words and rejection hit me hard and I stumble back. The satisfied smirk Rory gives me feels like a knife sliding underneath my ribs. I should fight harder; my father needs to hear the truth because he’s embracing a rat and failing a business partner.
His arm rising, finger pointing, and eyes narrowing blocks my every attempt and leaves me no other choice but to spin and leave the room. I reach for the doorknob but Rory beats me to it.
“Learn to know your place, cunt,” he snarls in a low voice only meant for my ears. “Or I’ll gladly rip you apart the way I broke your friend, Dara.”
My fingers curl into a fist and I’m a breath away from punching his face but the door slams shut in front of me.
“Dirty fucking rat!” I snarl with every inch of air left in my lungs.
“Meribeth,” my mother gasps in shock.
I whirl around and give her all my fury. “Oh, suck it, mother. You always turn a blind eye to everything around you. All you care about is how I dress, how I walk, how I talk. Well, guess what? I’m not the fucking lady you raised and I clearly don’t live up to the expectations my father had for me either. So, who fucking cares what comes out of my mouth or how I act?”
I storm into the direction of the garage but my mother blocks me. “Where do you think you’re going? You have to accept Leith’s offer to marry you. There’s too much at stake. You know what’s going on, your father explained it to you. This motorcycle club is too big for us to face alone.”
Turning, I head for the front door. Screw her, I’ll go around the house and get to my bike by taking another path.
“Sorry, Meribeth,” one of my father’s men says as he blocks the door. “You can’t leave, your father’s orders.”
Anger still flows hot through my veins and the guard isn’t expecting my outburst and it gives me an advantage when my fist hits his jaw, making him crumble to the ground the next moment.
“Meribeth,” my mother gasps once more but I ignore her and stomp outside.
The gravel underneath my high heels makes a quick exit hard and I should have gone to my room to change first but I’m already on a rampage now so there’s no time for a break. Though, I can hardly ride my bike in this fucking dress and heels.
Making a sharp turn, I head for the SUV parked near the gate, knowing where my father’s driver keeps the spare keys it’s a better getaway ride. I have no clue what my intentions are but I can’t sit in my room and do nothing.
Not while my father is set to marry me off to another family who caused my father to murder innocent people. Okay, the president of VII Knights MC, a ruthless motorcycle club, isn’t exactly innocent but he was murdered for something he didn’t do.
I reach the SUV but my mother grabs my shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing, young lady? You knew this day would come. We’ve talked about future expectations when it comes to the family business. This arranged marriage will happen.”
Whirling around to face her, I get ready to tell her I’m placing fate into my own hands, but I don’t get a chance to say anything. The air is ripped from our lungs when a loud explosion splices the air, stunning our senses. I’ve been in a few situations where bullets were flying around my head but what is happening now scares the shit out of me.
Mainly because I have no weapon in hand; something that rarely happens. And secondly; my mother is blown back onto the gravel and isn’t moving. Rushing toward her while staying low, I quickly grab her hand and try to drag her with me toward the SUV to take cover.
Orders are barked out behind me. Automatic weapons keep firing. I notice my father’s men rushing out of the house, returning fire, as I finally manage to pull my mother to safety. I don’t know why she’s still unconscious.
Cupping her head, I whisper, “Mom. Mom! Please wake up.”
Nothing happens and when I slide my hand away from the back of her head it’s painted with crimson. My heart squeezes painfully. She needs help right now; she must have hit her head pretty bad when she was thrown back by the explosion.
I glance in the direction of the gate where the explosion came from but blinding pain greets me as something slams into the back of my head. Darkness overtakes the worry and pain and I have no other choice than to disconnect with the world.
