Pretty Little Hellion (Rocker Universe: Pretty Little #3)

15. Sparks

Chapter Fifteen

Sparks

In the PCC, members didn’t discriminate against gender. If a man did something that offended my family, they paid with their life—but first with torture to drive home how displeased the Guerrero family was with them. Sometimes it took hours. If it was a worse offense, it could take days or even weeks. I couldn’t count the times I’d spent in the hole where we kept the prisoners.

It was more like an underground bunker from back in the early 1900s for people to take shelter in should the World War have suddenly reached US soil. Basically indestructible, soundproof, and its location only known to the most trusted of the PCC soldiers.

My first visit to the hole had been when I was six. By then, Miguel was already doing PCC work. In charge of “questioning” the poor, unlucky soul who had the misfortune of being dragged into that nightmare dungeon. The scent of old blood mixed with fresh blood, piss, and even shit. I’d wanted to gag, could feel the bile tossing in my stomach, lifting into the back of my throat. But not only was my brother there, maniacally laughing while he used a cigar cutter to cut off his victim’s toes one after the other, his scream echoing around the thick, soundproof rooms and inside my head, but so was my father.

Sancho’s attention hadn’t been on the crafty ways my brother was getting the man strapped to the metal table, slowly draining him while the blood flowed down the channels on either side of the table, to talk. My father had been watching for any sign of weakness in me. I didn’t even flinch that night, equal parts terrified of my dad and determined never to let him see me sweat. Not then or any other night that they took me down into that hellhole.

It wasn’t long before he made me participate.

When I had my first session alone with a prisoner in the hole, I puked for hours afterward, then somehow made it to Jamie’s house and, on autopilot, let my friend clean me up.

That night, once the blood had been washed down the drain, the evidence of any DNA from my victim scrubbed from my body, I’d curled into a ball on Jamie’s bed and stared at the wall for hours, maybe even days. Reliving that man’s screams. His pleas for mercy. To let him live because he had a family to provide for. Then later, his pleas had changed. He began to pray and scream in agony for me to end it all. The pain. The torture. The helplessness.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

My job was to get every dark secret from anyone on that table. Listen to them confess their sins until their body was completely drained of blood. Every. Last. Drop.

Having men on that table tarnished my soul. But it was when the soldiers would drag a woman into the hole that another piece of my soul died.

And because I had no choice—because I knew my father wouldn’t allow me out of the hole until he was satisfied with the information I had bled from her slowly, her tortured screams fracturing something inside me that I thought could never be healed again—I did my job. My duty to the cartel. To my fucking father.

Every time I had to go down into the hole with a woman, I’d found myself sitting in my car outside Jamie’s family’s estate afterward. I never remembered him opening the driver’s door or slinging my arm over his shoulder. I barely felt him half carrying, half dragging me through the back entrance into his wing of the house. I didn’t flinch when the icy spray of the shower hit my naked body. Somehow, Jamie always scrubbed me from head to toe, three times just to be sure no trace of my crimes was left behind. Then he would turn off the water, dry me completely, dress me in one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, and tuck me into his bed.

For more than twenty-four hours, I wouldn’t move from that bed. Not even when Ky joined us, whispering to Jamie that my car had been thoroughly detailed to ensure no evidence was left behind. The television would be on some anime show with the subtitles on the bottom of the screen, but I didn’t watch it. The shouting and the cooing of whatever busty anime girl couldn’t draw me from the nightmares that overtook my mind and refused to release me.

I’d killed women, in the name of the PCC. For my family. For my motherfucking father. Over the years, there were twenty in all. They always stayed with me. Rotting. Festering. Their blood on my hands became my instant one-way ticket to hell.

Hundreds. That was how many men I’d drained during my time with the PCC. But I didn’t remember a single face. Yet I could see with complete clarity the faces of each of the twenty women I had been forced to drain. The pain in their expressions. The tears that spilled from their tired, pleading, and eventually accepting eyes. Their skin would slowly turn gray and cold, their lips blue and slightly parted.

It would take weeks before I could sleep a full night without seeing them in my dreams. Slowly, they would become brief, excruciating memories. Until the next woman. Until the next piece of my soul was washed down the drain with their blood. And part of me wanted to follow them into the afterlife. To live their sentences in hell so they would never have to suffer again.

Until I’d found Hayat. Fell in love with her. And the screams of those twenty women eventually became background noise until, finally, they were little more than whispers. There, but no longer clutching at me. Condemning me.

Hayat pulled me from that blood-soaked darkness. She was my angel—my goddess. My reason to smile. To hold on to every moment I was so graciously granted to continue to live with her at my side.

But when we walked out the back exit of First Bass, four guards standing at attention to make sure no one snuck in, and I saw Maddie standing nearby, leaning against her car, I was ready to add number twenty-one to my list of women I’d drained of blood. Only this time, I wouldn’t have a moment of regret. Not a single ounce of remorse for taking the life of the girl who had so heartlessly crushed Hayat.

She’d made my girl cry. And I knew it took a fucking lot to make Hayat shed tears. She was a free spirit. She loved life and the people who meant the world to her. Having Maddie—or Blondie, as Jamie liked to sneer at her—shooting out words like bullets, destroying Hayat so effortlessly, was enough to have me hop aboard Jamie’s crazy train right along with him.

Jamie took a menacing step toward her, but her gaze barely flickered to him and me before it zeroed in on Ky. Dressed for a night out at the club in a skirt that barely covered her ass and a top that pushed her tits up to her throat, she had her blond hair in some sleek ponytail that wasn’t all that flattering to the length of her neck or the shape of her ears. The few times I’d seen this chick in the past, she’d gone lighter on the makeup, but now, it was obvious she was on the hunt. And her prey?

Ky.

Walking slowly, because if she didn’t, she was liable to break an ankle in those ridiculous fuck-me heels, she approached him, her bottom lip pouted out. “You blocked my number?”

Whining was sexy as fuck when Hayat did it. Her voice got this husky, needy tone that made my balls draw up, ready to bust a nut in ten seconds flat. Blondie’s whine, that shit was what caused glass to shatter. Jamie and I winced at the sound, while Ky gave her a bored look.

“Yeah, Maddie, I blocked you.” His voice was laced with steel, sounding rough from the show earlier. His gray eyes skimmed over her while he shook his head in disappointment. “After the things you said to Hayat, and how you snatched my phone long enough to share my location with yourself, it was time to cut ties with you.”

“But what about Avalyn?” she demanded, tears filling her eyes but not spilling.

“I’m going to stay in touch with Trinity and Jarret. Banks has my number too. I spoke to all three of them last night, and they agreed that you crossed lines that would have gotten anyone else slapped with stalking and harassment charges for tampering with my phone. And we aren’t even going to get into all that shit you threw at Hayat.”

He bent enough so she could see the storm brewing deep in his gray eyes, and she took a wobbly step back on instinct. It had been a hell of a long time since I’d seen that darkness in Ky’s eyes, but this bitch had messed with Hellion. No way was he going to let that shit slide. “Because if we did, I can promise you, Maddie, you would be lucky to walk away at all. If Avalyn needs anything, they can get hold of me, day or night. But you stay the fuck away from me and my family. I see you anywhere near Hayat, and I promise it will be the last mistake you make.”

“Are you seriously going to dump me like your worthless brother did?” she shrieked loud enough that the four guards shifted behind us.

Ky released a frustrated laugh. “How the fuck can I dump you, Maddie? I’ve never been with you in any capacity except as your friend. Listen to me, please. Just listen for two seconds. Let your family get you into therapy as soon as possible. You are starting to scare me with all this. Whatever the fuck it is.”

Hearing the guards shifting more, I glanced over my shoulder at them. They were aware we were with Hayat and part of the band for First Bass. But Blondie was Harris Cutter’s adopted niece.

“I’m not going to let that stupid bitch ruin you like your brother ruined me!”

“Aw, naw,” Jamie laughed maniacally, bouncing from one foot to the other, gearing up for a fight. More likely a verbal one, because he hadn’t ever hit a girl in his life unless it involved some private fun time. But Jamie had a vicious tongue that could shred Maddie’s precious little feelings. Fucking cunt. “Call my hellion a bitch one more time, Prostitute Barbie wannabe. Do it. I fucking dare you.”

Her gaze zeroed in on Jamie even as she stepped closer to Ky, probably thinking he would protect her. Have her back. Giving herself courage in the face of Jamie’s mania.

Lips twisting into an evil, ugly smile, she took his dare and might as well have signed her own death warrant. “Hayat Cutter is nothing but a dirty whore. Be sure to get yourselves tested, dumbasses. That skanky bitch probably has her own strain of syphilis named for her.”

An inhuman sound echoed off the buildings around us. It took me a moment before I realized that the noise, similar to an enraged Tasmanian devil, was coming from me . Four sets of arms grabbed me from behind before I could lunge for her.

She squealed in surprise and fear. As she stumbled back, her stupid porn-star heels snagged on a few stray pieces of gravel, causing her to fall forward. I barely heard her blood-curdling scream of pain and frustration, her palms and knees scraped raw from the asphalt. Those little scrapes on her, trickling blood? That was nothing to what I was going to do to her when I got her back to the PCC’s hole.

The guards struggled to keep me back. Even when Jamie and Ky jumped in to help, they had to wrestle me back into the club and then to the green room.

Once they had me trapped in there, one of the guards used his com-set to notify the head of security of the issue—me—and that they would keep me detained until the boss—Harris—decided what he wanted to do with me.

I paced the length of the room where, not too long ago, Hayat had given me her final virgin hole. Where she had let me have a piece of her soul and I’d laid mine completely bare for her to keep until I drew my last breath. Together, in this room, on that couch, we’d made silent vows that no deity could ever take from us. Not even in death.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen slowly rolled over to thirty and forty-five. Ky and Jamie were stretched out on the couch, watching me walk from one end of the room to the other, my fingers linked behind my neck, the anger and need to smell Blondie slowly being drained of her life-giving blood running hot through my system.

Both their cells had been lost in the tussle getting me away from Blondie. Probably broken in the employee parking lot somewhere, making it impossible to let Hayat know why we weren’t already upstairs celebrating with her as planned. The guard had taken mine from me after patting me down for weapons, just in case, after he’d seen my PCC tattoo.

They probably thought I was going to call someone in the cartel and have the place shot up, but I didn’t tell them I’d rather have my eyes drilled out of my skull with a fucking blender than speak to any of those motherfuckers again. Especially Sancho. Miguel, he wasn’t even a tenth as bad as our father, but I would never let him near Hayat.

Finally, the door opened, and Harris stomped in, snapping at the guards to get back to work. Behind him, Jesse Thornton and Devlin Cutter followed. Devlin had a cut on his lip that was still lightly bleeding, and he kept working his jaw back and forth as if he’d been hit so hard he had loose teeth.

“Sorry it took so long to come spring you, boys,” Harris said with true regret, not only in his voice but also shining from those eyes that were so much like his daughter’s. “There was an incident upstairs, and it took a while for Tiny to drag me away to watch some security footage from the employee parking lot.”

Ky and Jamie shared a look, but I stood there, hands on my hips, legs spread apart to brace for what he might say next, waiting for whatever sentence Hayat’s dad and grandfathers were about to rain down on me.

Noting my defensive stance, Harris waved his hand in a sign to calm down. “Relax. I have great cameras out there, thanks to Barrick and Braxton redoing my entire club. Braxton is a genius with tech shit. They even have audio.”

As he spoke the last word, he turned his head, giving his own father a disgusted once-over, but he quickly turned his focus back to us. “Maddie didn’t seem to remember that little detail when she went running around to the front entrance, sobbing and telling Tiny all about how you two assaulted her.”

He pointed from Jamie to me. “It was a very believable story, and my head of security took her at her word. He helped her down to my office with a few of the waitresses to clean up her scraped palms, knees, and shins. Oh, and we can’t forget the swollen ankle from where she said Sparks shoved her.”

“You just said you have security footage with audio out there, so why the fuck are you standing here accusing us?” Jamie demanded.

“No one is accusing you, son,” Jesse told him, his tone firm but oddly reassuring. The more I got to know the old rocker, the more comfortable I felt around him. He loved his family hard, and from some of the interactions I’d witnessed at Abi’s wedding, he loved his daughter and granddaughter more than life itself. His wife as well, but there was a difference in the love he showed to Layla from what he showered on Hayat and her mom.

Harris shook his head, his face softening slightly. “No, Jamie. We aren’t accusing any of you of anything. I watched the security feed on those cameras from every angle. Listened to everything that was said. Repeatedly. And then I had Jesse and my father come in and do the same thing. So this fucking asshole—” he swept a hand toward his father “—could see exactly what Maddie did.”

Jesse shot the other drummer a glare. “Without those cameras and audio, Maddie could have easily filed charges on you three. And plenty of people would have believed her. Good thing Harris invested in the new security tech. Not only did it exonerate the three of you, it finally drove home just how far Maddie’s mental health has declined.”

“Where is Hayat? Is she okay? Was she worried? Upset in any way?” I demanded, speaking for the first time since I’d gone after Blondie. My voice didn’t sound like my own. It was worse than Ky’s when he finished a full show. I didn’t know how I was going to do any backup vocals for the recording session we had scheduled for the next day, but I’d figure it out.

No way in fuck I was going to let Hayat and Autumn’s Slumber down.

In my rage, whatever sounds I’d made had shredded my voice. But I needed to know where my girl was and if she was okay. My gaze kept flicking to Devlin, his split lip, the way he grimaced every time he so much as opened his mouth. Someone had popped him hard in the face.

Whoever it was, I wanted to shake their hand. This motherfucker—I didn’t give two shits that he was Hayat’s beloved Pop-Pop—had caused her pain. Her heart had been bruised by him and his wife. By little fucking Blondie. They didn’t deserve to hold even the most minuscule spot in Hayat’s beautiful heart. If I didn’t know it would cause her more pain, I would bleed them all dry.

But it would hurt her, and no matter how badly I wanted them to rot in hell, I wouldn’t do that to my goddess.

“Hayat is settling Sammy down at the moment,” Jesse answered, his lips twitching in amusement, but his eyes were doing that rapid brown swirly change thing that was freaky as fuck. In the few interactions I’d had with the rock legend, I’d learned that those specific shades of brown were not the ones anyone wanted aimed at them. His sons were the same way. It was wicked cool, but also terrifying as fuck. “She’s been so focused on Sammy that, thankfully, she hasn’t had many chances to worry about why you three haven’t come upstairs to join us yet.”

Jamie jumped up, already bouncing with excess energy. “Well, let’s fucking go. I’ve been away from Hellion long enough. I need…” He shot me a glance, and his face filled with concern. “ We need to see her. Now.”

“Hayat will be down shortly,” Harris assured us. “With everything that went on upstairs while you three had your own shitshow to deal with, we all need a minute to decompress. But first, you deserve an apology.”

Ky slowly stood, his brows raised. “From whom?”

“Maddie, for sure, but that isn’t likely to happen anytime soon. For now, however, you’re going to get one from this shithead.” Jesse shoved Devlin forward.

Devlin clenched his jaw, but the action obviously caused him pain because he tried to hide his grunt of pain with a cough. Harris turned to face his dad, his eyes taking on that wild quality that Hayat’s sometimes got.

Danger.

“You have to the count of five to start making apologies to these boys. If you don’t? I’m done with you. And Nat, too. You think I’m going to let you treat my daughter’s significant others like shit? Just let it pass? Let you fucking hurt her every time you make some snide, condescending comment?”

Devlin lifted his head, stubbornness clenching his face. I knew that look well, too. Hayat was so much like her dad and grandfather, it would have been amusing if one of them weren’t such a fucking piece of shit.

Harris stepped more into his father’s personal space. “Let me remind you how it was for Nat when she told her parents she was pregnant with Trinity. How Stella turned her back on her for deciding to marry you against her wishes. How much did that hurt her, Dad? How many nights did you hold her while she cried herself to sleep over her own mother treating her like total shit? For never once, not one goddamn time, acknowledging Trinity.”

Something passed over Devlin’s face. Regret, maybe. Hopefully a little understanding of the pain he was causing his granddaughter.

Harris wasn’t done.

“You remember that, Dad? How Clyde and Stella tried to shame Nat? How her own mother told her to have an abortion if she ever wanted to be a part of the Stevenson family again?”

All the color leached from his face as Devlin swallowed hard and finally nodded. “Yeah, I remember,” he rasped. “It was torture not being able to soothe that ache that her parents caused in her. She still carries the scars on her soul from the things Stella said to her. Even though she apologized before she died, Stella destroyed a piece of Nat that she will never get back, no matter how hard I try to make up for what her mom did and said to her.”

“Yeah.” Harris nodded, his eyes glittering as he met his father’s gaze. “Yeah, Dad. You remember that. Now, tomorrow, and every day until you draw your last breath. Because what Stella did to Nat, you and Nat basically did the same shit to Hayat. My baby girl, who trusted you. Looked up to you. Fucking worshipped you. And what did you do? Not only did you not believe her about Maddie saying those vile things to Hayat’s face—names that Maddie herself was subjected to daily in the past and Hayat would fight complete strangers for saying to her—but you made Hayat feel like her love for these three boys was something to be ashamed of. These men who would do anything, fucking anything, for her. You made her feel dirty. Unloved. Un-fucking-worthy.”

The elder Cutter lowered his head, but not before I saw the tears in his eyes, the rough way he swallowed over and over in an attempt to dislodge the lump of emotion in his throat.

Harris stepped back from his dad, disgust on his face. “You remember that. And then you remember that even if by some miracle Hayat ever forgives you, I never fucking will.”

“Harris,” Devlin choked out, lifting his head, letting the tears spill down his face. “Son, I—”

“Nothing you say can heal the damage you and Nat have done. Nothing the two of you or Maddie attempt to do now or in the future to repair the pain you so viciously caused my little girl will ever be enough. You’re my father, and I will always love you. But from this day forward, I will never respect any of you again.”

Hayat’s dad took another step back and stabbed his finger toward the door. “Now, you take your wife and Maddie and get the fuck out of my club. Until Maddie has worked out her mental health shit, and apologizes to Hayat, she’s not welcome here or at my house. Same goes for you and Nat. I don’t want to see any of your faces.”

With a choked, wounded sound, the elder Cutter turned and stumbled out the door. Harris sucked in a deep breath as he watched his father leave, his shoulders set in a hard line, head bowed in anger, disillusionment, and grief. Jesse and the rest of us remained quiet, giving him the time he needed to collect himself and harness his emotions.

But after a few moments, he turned to face us. The grief and anger were still warring in his eyes, but I respected him for setting boundaries with people who had hurt his daughter so maliciously.

Pressing a hand to his chest, he spoke with pure sincerity in his gravelly voice. “On behalf of my father, stepmother, and niece, I apologize to you three. You have made my baby girl happier than I have ever seen her in her life, and for that, there are no words that I could say to express how appreciative I am of you. I hope, despite what other people in my family have tried to do to make you feel unwanted, that you understand you will always be welcome in my home, my club, and my family.”

Jaw clenched to hold on to the emotions swirling in him like an angry tornado, Hayat’s dad offered us his hand. The three of us each readily shook it, respecting the man even more for putting his daughter’s heart and well-being before anything and anyone, including his own father. That took guts and determination. It took putting your own heart aside, one that, from the look on the man’s face, was broken.

He gave us a small but genuine smile. “You boys performed one hell of an amazing job onstage tonight. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that in my twenty-plus years of owning this club, your live performance was the best one to rock my stage. Upstairs, there has been some crazy planning going on. Hayat told Emmie she wanted to talk it over with all of you first, so I’ll let her fill you in on the details.”

Holy shit. What the fuck had we missed?