Cleo

Three Years

Liam laid beside me, the sheets just barely draped over him. His chest was covered in scars. Some fresh and many aged longer than they should have been. My fingers found the longest one; it went from his left shoulder to just below his right nipple. I traced it lightly, imagining the horrors behind it.

“Fight.” Liam turned his head to look at me, his brown eyes scanning over my exposed chest.

I rolled out of bed, “Knife fight?”

“No. Sore loser. Pulled it out while I was walking away. I had no time to react.”

The only top nearby was Liam’s long sleeve white shirt. “I guess Payne is a good last name for you.”

Liam let out a small laugh as I buttoned up the shirt. “Yeah. I can handle it, which is why I do the dirty jobs.” Without another word, I walked out.

Harry was in the kitchen. He was dressed to impressed, as it should be. He smiled at me, placing a hand on my side and kissing me. “Morning.” I kissed him back and smiled slightly. “What are you planning for today?”

I shrugged, “The Cobra’s have moved in, grabbing our girls, selling their shit and making us look bad to the locals.” Harry bit into an apple, taking in my every word. “Welcome them.”

“Who am I taking?”

“Liam, for obvious reasons. Niall has a contact, so he can be helpful. I need Louis and Zayn to check on the girls and see what they can do to keep peace.”

Liam came out, fully dressed. “Any preferred method?” Harry asked as he stepped in front of my view of the dark eyed boy.

“The usual.” I stated, grabbing a cold beer from the fridge. “Just be prepared for anything. The Cobra’s aren’t newbie’s.” I walked from the kitchen and found myself alone in the living room.

I clicked on the TV and switched channels to the news. The coverage was on another death in the city. Local girl, no one had any comments. Niall had cleaned up the mess, sending in a few guys he knew to make people quiet. We didn’t use force on civilians, we used money. Best way to make us look good.

Sure, we could break a few fingers, make a few cement shoes and have our way, but that wasn’t how things ran. We wanted cooperation, friends. We had a few local gangs behind us and some good friends with a badge.

The boys and I were not in a gang. Sure, we associated with them and worked beside them, but it was to ensure our cash flow. We were the in between. We handled gang wars, threats, dealt a little, did our own thing and we were basically a friendly group that kept people safe.

What we did wasn’t considered bad, but it wasn’t good either. We sold drugs, we ran some clubs and sometimes, we made messes. We’d kill to keep the bad guys out of our town. If a rival gang wanted in, they had to deal with us. They’d try to scare us, killing our strippers, a few high end prostitutes we provided. Gangs have gone after us before. But we always had a handle on things.

The Cobra’s were bad news. They’d cleared multiple gangs from existence across California. When they were coming, they were heard. Truck loads of bodies followed them. When they started, they were small, taking on more members as they cleaned out a rival. People would jump to join them, saving their own asses, killing their own.

The Cobra’s were not a group of loyal people. They were hungry for power. They wanted to rule the streets. It wasn’t uncommon for them to kill their own. As I stated, they were not loyal. Anyone who would leave their own gang for The Cobra’s were traitors. They never trusted one another.

We were the new targets.

I wasn’t about to let them ruin all my hard work. I’d spent the last two years building up to this throne. The first year I spent with the guys was rough. I wanted to go home, I wanted them dead. But not once did they hurt me. Not physically. They pushed me to my current seat with threats. It took them a year to break me.

Once I was broken, I became the leader. I called the shots. When I first started this, I knew what kind of guys I had surrounding me. They were blood thirsty beasts. They could handle a gun better than some of the guys I’d seen in movies. They could weasel their way into a place and become kings in days.

The whole operation was their idea. I won’t take credit for that. But they taught me how to handle it. They gave me the power. I guess they saw something in me when they stole me away from my small town home in Virginia. Somehow they saw the devil inside of me.

I wasn’t afraid of anyone. I knew how to handle a gun well enough to protect myself. I started on fighting skills, private lessons via Liam. He taught me enough to keep me safe. And when I was finally at the top, I didn’t want to stop. The power was great. I yelled jump and the boys screamed back asking how high.

The drugs, the prostitutes and the clubs weren’t my main concern; they were just insurance to keep my place in this community. By selling the drugs, we got a cut in the profit. This making living easier. The clubs were recent additions to our responsibilities. One was a gift from the leader of Mar Rojo. They were notorious for their wars. Never falling to another gang. Which is why we also deal with The Pellino Family, the new Italian gang that moved in recently. They’d given us an in on the world of prostitution.

Both gangs wanted blood, but we wanted peace. We worked out an agreement. Drugs were Mar Rojo’s and prostitution was Pellino’s. They would score on each of their deals, never having to cross paths or needing to fight. All anyone cared about was the safety of their families and their money.

Mar Rojo’s were a drug based gang anyway. Pellino’s had no idea what they were doing. It was an easy fix. When it came down to it, they managed to agree. Then The Cobra’s started stepping in. They made an agreement to join forces. Mar Rojo’s wasn’t about to lose their rep and The Pellino’s didn’t want to get out of the game so soon.

Of course, we could have sat back and watched the whole thing play out. But we were here for a reason. We were not going to become useless, as much as they wanted protection and money, we did too. Our jobs were to keep the peace and if we had to send a warning to The Cobra’s to do so, we would. Besides, it wasn’t Mar Rojo’s or Pellino’s girls that were being killed, it was ours. We were not about to let them step all over us.