Resist Me(8)

By: Chelle Bliss



He looked up at me; his shoulders slumped before he spoke. “I’m in deep, sis. I’ve moved up the ranks. I’m sergeant-at-arms now. I’m in the inner sanctum and doing everything I can to bring this club down. I don’t want the shit to be half-assed, either. I need to bring it to its knees. Cut off the head and burn the body. Leave nothing behind.”

“It’s so dangerous.” I knew my statement was obvious, but I didn’t have anything else to say. The thought of something happening to him made my heart feel like someone was squeezing it in their fist, and I didn’t want to feel it pop.

“It’s my job, Izzy. I have to see it through. I promise I’ll come home to everyone, and I’ll do it soon.”

“You better. Ma is beside herself with worry. Joey is going to have a baby. The family is changing and you’re not there to see,” I grumbled. I wanted to run out the door with Tommy in tow and head home.

“Joey’s going to be a dad?” he whispered, his eyes growing wide.

“Yes. You’re going to be an uncle soon. You need to come home.”

“I will, love. I will.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, bringing my face against his chest.

I rested my hands on his shoulder blades, gripping them for dear life. I didn’t want to let him go. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my brother, let alone been able to touch him. How was I going to be able to walk out the door and leave him behind?

“Now what?” I asked, my voice muffled by his t-shirt.

“Well, everyone thinks I’m banging your brains out.” He blanched and gagged. “After, I have to bring you back.” He sighed, pulling away from me as my hands slipped from his back. “Let me make a call. Do you have your phone? Mine isn’t safe.”

I grabbed my purse, which I’d dropped on the floor when I’d sat down. I rummaged through the contents, pulled out my phone, and handed it to him.

“Who are ya going to call?” I asked. I did not want any of my other brothers in harm’s way. It was bad enough that I’d put Tommy in this fucked-up predicament, let alone the others.

“I only have one person near by I can trust to get you out of this clusterfuck.” He tapped the buttons on my phone but didn’t look up at me.

“Who?” I asked. “Don’t call Mike or Joe either,” I pleaded, lying back on the bed.

“Fuck no, woman. I’m calling a law enforcement buddy. Only he can pull this off without it looking like I had anything to do with it.” He stood, bringing the phone to his ear.

Well okay, then. He still hadn’t answered my question. I looked around the hotel room as he walked away from the bed. This place was an even bigger shithole than the place Sam and I had booked for the weekend. The room hadn’t been updated since it had been built in the ’70s. The color scheme was straight out of The Brady Bunch on meth. Mustard yellow, burnt orange, and avocado green decorated the flowery wallpaper and the bedspread. I didn’t want to even think about all the things that had been done on this bed. It had to be crawling with germs.

I stood, walking toward my brother, stopping to look out the peephole. The green shag carpeting did not make me want to kick off my shoes and feel the lushness. It was matted and trashed.

“Hey,” Tommy said into the phone. “I need your help.”

I turned, studying him as he moved around the room. He would’ve worn a path in the carpeting if the shag had still been good. I grabbed my purse and sat down on the bed, pulling my lip-gloss from my purse as I listened.

“My sister’s here. I need you to help me get her the fuck out,” Tommy said, running his fingers through his hair. “I know. She showed up with one of the prospects and Rebel almost claimed her for the night, but he offered her to me—thank fucking God.” Tommy stopped and listened before moving again. “Yeah, Izzy,” he said, his eyes darting to me.

My eyes grew wide. The person on the other end knew who I was, but I didn’t know them.

“She’s the only fucking sister I have, James. What the hell kind of question is that?” Tommy glared at me as James spoke on the other end of the phone.

I looked up at him, my mouth dropping open when I heard his name. James Caldo. He was the smug bastard who’d come to the wedding uninvited to drop off a card for Tommy. We’d shared drinks—way too many drinks. I’d woken up the next morning slinking out of his hotel room without saying goodbye. I’d gotten what I’d wanted, gotten the hell out, and never looked back.

James was…how do I say it? Hot as fuck, but a little too bossy for my liking. He reminded me of my brothers, but times ten on the macho bullshit. I’d waited for him to grunt, “Me caveman. You’re mine,” after he’d fucked me into a coma after the reception.

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