Club distractions

Martil pov

The night tasted like smoke and regret. It smelled like burnt oil. Especially with a name I couldn't tell.

I hated riding when my head wasn't clear, when my thoughts were jumbled.

But in some way, it was suffocating. The house was suffocating. It wasn't mine. It was my father’s. But she was suffocating.

Corleone. A blonde brat.

I hated that name. I hated her name. I hated the way it wrapped itself around my tongue like something forbidden – except it was definitely forbidden.

She moved like she didn't know I watched her. Like she wasn't pressing every wrong button inside me. It was fucking wrong.

I should have stayed silent. I should have let her tiptoe back to bed like a clueless girl in someone else's house. Only that I didn't. I didn't keep my fucking mouth shut.

She walked into our lives — into my life like a goddamn flame and no one thought to put it out.

Five months. That was all it took for her mother to move in with my father and play house. Now, I had a brat for a stepsister who has a sharp mouth, and liked to walk around half naked at 2am.

Maybe I should have ignored her. Pretended she wasn't there, like she didn’t exist. Should have stayed quiet and let her pass like smoke. But I didn't.

I needed to burn the tension off my skin. It was as if I hadn't seen any other female before. I didn't fancy them. But this one? Everything was fucking wrong about her.

My grip tightened around the throttle of my motorcycle as I sped across the city that blurred past me. The streets were half dead at this hour.

But I wasn't riding for speed or fun, I rode from my freaking thoughts. I rode away from the feeling that crawled on my skin like ants.

From remembering the way her eyes narrowed when she was mad. From the way her tank top clung to her like she didn’t care who was watching.

I crossed the main road and headed straight to an underground dark lot. My bike purred softly against the sand.

The entrance gates opened automatically. I rode in before it closed again, locking against the ground.

"How is the night, boss?" William called, red boots hammering softly against the ground.

He passed me a cigarette. I took it, pulled a lighter from my leather pocket, lit it and placed it in between my dry lips.

One drag. Puffed out smoke.

"Quiet." I replied casually, killing the engine. It was always the same.

"Where are the others? Jeremy and Kaleb?" I asked, catching the faint bass that came from inside.

William shrugged, "Inside. We have been waiting for you."

I nodded, throwing the cigarette to the ground, grinding it under my boots.

I was two hours late. It didn't matter. I couldn't skip without attending. Blame it on Presidential rules.

Lit another cigarette. We moved. I opened the steel door to the underground house.

Music boomed into my ears through the in-built speakers. Roars of laughter and yells all around. The room smelt like thick smoke. Strippers. Dancers. Casual sluts and naked bodies.

I tore my eyes off the pole dancing mess and stacks of dollars being spent on the whores. I wasn't here for that. I hated noises.

"Grave...." Kaleb shouted my code name from across the large room.

A naked girl was grinding her ass on him. He was my best friend. We grew up together. He rode with me. Typical gang's road Leader.

I dropped on one of the empty couches beside him.

"What do we have tonight?" I pulled a long drag of smoke.

"Free pussies, man. Do you need one?" Kaleb signalled to one of his girls.

My gaze fixed on her. Blonde. She had something like a swim suit on. Her boobs were practically flying out. She threw me a seductive smile that looked irritating, throwing her hands on my chest.

"Move." Just one word. She scrambled off. She wouldn't want to make me repeat myself.

"Loosen up, Grave." Kaleb chuckled, sending the girls away. He leaned closer.

I rolled my eyes, leaning properly on the couch. "How's business with the catches?"

"The shipment arrived at 8pm. Everything went well until they tried to break it rough." He explained.

I didn't react. I had expected it. "Any casualties?"

"One of our trucks exploded. Atom went down." He answered.

I paused, staring back at him. Shit.

Atom was one of the gang's best men. He has been with me for many years. He went down for a shipment.

I sighed, "And the other one?"

"It wasn't acquired. The bastards snatched it." He shook his head.

Fucking Russians. They have been hitting at us for weeks. I wanted to fight back but I couldn't risk the lives of my brothers for one bad call.

"Why is there a party when Atom is dead?" It irked me to the core. There should be time for everything.

Kaleb sighed. "Don't start, man. You know there will always be a party. It brings cash." He said,

"Fine." I stood up, ready to leave.

"How is your new stepsister?" He smirked,

"A brat." I hissed, taking out another cigarette.

"They are always brats, sexy brats." He chuckled.

Her image again. Those breasts beneath the tank top. Damn, I needed another distraction.

"Gather the boys tomorrow evening. We will pay homage to Atom." I ordered, "And I don't want to see another fucking party." I warned him,

"Got it, boss." He replied as I walked off.

The ride back home was more silent and colder. The wind was harsher.

I pulled at the driveway that wasn't used just before dawn. I put off the lights and rolled inside like a shadow.

The house was quiet. No ghosts, no robbers. I picked water from the fridge before moving upstairs. I acted like I didn't exist.

Then, I passed her door and I paused.

I didn't know why I stopped. Her room was closed. She could be asleep or not. She shouldn't be here. She and her mother never should have come here.

I forced myself to move. I walked into my room and shut the door quietly. I laid on the bed without sleeping. It has been my routine. My hands guided straight to the drawer under my bed.

I unlocked it and pulled out a leather case. A gun was wrapped in cloth — one I hadn't used in two years.

Next to it was a photo. A girl. Blonde hair, soft smile. A dead one.

“You’re just like her,” I muttered. “And I swore I’d never let that happen again.”