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Sophie scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking to Colt for back up.
“But really, you have no idea who he is, and what he is capable of. If he has that fucking brand on his chest, it means he’s capable of anything. It means he’s probably done violent and terrible things, and he could do violent and terrible things again. I don’t want him sleeping under the same roof as me. As my daughter. As my grandson-”
“Tough, that’s where he lives-”
“I wouldn’t want to see what he does if he was backed into a corner.”
Colt looked at Blue long and hard. “Then you better not back him into a corner.”
Blue shook his head. “I’m going to run a search on him-”
“I did that already, found nothing,” Carmelo said.
Blue scoffed. “I’m gonna do it more thoroughly than bloody pretty boy Sergeant over here did. And if I find something I don’t like…”
“How many men?” Sophie repeated, louder this time, folding her arms over her chest. “How many men do you think he has killed?”
“Demonios? Fifteen, give or take,” Blue said.
Sophie pursed her lips. “And before that?”
Colt opened his mouth, then closed it. Blue looked down. Colt cleared his throat. “Hard to say. Many more.”
Sophie pursed her lips. “He’s good, I get it, I know what he can do, I nearly witnessed it first hand, didn’t I? I know what he is, he is a killer. Calculated and ice-cold. He’s seen and done things- I get it. But come on, there is more to his story than meets the eye here, isn’t there? He’s good at what he does but why does he do it? He doesn’t just kill everyone he gets annoyed with, why does he kill?”
Colt scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “I… don’t know… I’ve never asked, I assumed he wouldn’t tell me…”
Sophie rounded on him then, unafraid. “No, I know, you’ve been too scared to delve into it because he is a reminder of the precariousness of good and bad in the world. That there is a hell after all, a fiery pit below, where the creatures of nightmares lurk and escape from, can come out to play. He makes you afraid-”
“No-” Colt shook his head, but Sophie cut him off.
“Yes, otherwise you’d have checked it out!” Sophie argued.
Blue stepped forward. “He doesn’t speak because something so fucking horrific happened he can’t put it into words. That’s fucking mutism, that’s traumatic shit right there. That’s not just someone with daddy issues or their pet dog died when they were five years old type of shit… he’s got that brand on his chest from when he was a kid, a fucking kid-”
Colt lost his temper. “I know, goddammit! Do you think I don’t know? Do you think I’m not aware?”
“Maybe fucking this little Sugar Cake here has addled his brain, caused him to regress or some shit like that, maybe he’s not aware he’s killing people-”
Colt held up a palm to stop Blue in his tracks. “When Phantom came to us he couldn’t walk, he couldn’t eat, he didn’t drink. He was so fucking cut up about whatever it was that he’d survived, that he didn’t want to live anymore. We fucking fed him, day and night, we pulled him up out of bed and shoved clothes on his back and got him going again. April spoon fed him. He’s not mad, he’s just been mistreated. You think I don’t have nightmares about the kind of shit that could have happened to him? I do, we all do. Phantom may be a mute, people may call him a psycho, a fucking zombie, he may be a multitude of things, but he’s ours. He’s our fucking murdering mute zombie. The MCs. The Black Coyotes’. We are his brothers and we live with him and we die with him. We protect what is ours.”
Sophie felt a missing piece of her heart slot into place.
“Sophie was with him all night, she says he didn’t leave the room, so he didn’t leave the room. Phantom didn’t kill Johnny. Fucking Demonios scum did. Fucking Demonios scum who keep coming after us because they think we have their money. Because they think we killed the SoCal Demonios. Well, we didn’t. And Phantom didn’t. Not all of them anyway, some, maybe…” Colt shrugged and took a breath. “But we are going to have to do something about this because they are beginning to hang around like a bad smell. And I fucking hate bad smells.”
Blue pursed his lips. “Not my territory, Colt, Texan Demonios, and honestly, I don’t believe that Phantom didn’t do it-”
“Fine,” Colt said, shaking with barely contained rage. “We’ll fucking deal with this shit if you can’t handle it. Phantom is our brother and his fight is our fight, so if we have to kill every Demonios fucker in the southern states, we will. They aren’t getting any money and they aren’t fucking us over anymore.” Colt turned to the others that stood nearby. “Do I make myself clear?”
Jared spoke for them all, “Crystal, Prez.”
“I’m going to call it ‘Biker Boy.’ A new flavor,” Sophie said. Sophie dug her spoon into the bowl of ice cream and glanced over to him, offering the spoon out to him.
Phantom’s lips closed around the spoon and he closed his eyes, too. Nothing could rival the pleasure he got from eating ice cream. When he came, it was more of a ferocious release. But this was such an innocent joy for him. He simply loved the taste of it. And she seemed to love watching him eat it.
“I think it could do with a slightly deeper smokiness… rum and pine and leather…” She mused out loud.
“We’ll create a biker girl one, too, perhaps, that complements it. Then people can have a scoop of each… or two or more of the same…” She trailed off talking about her business plans. Watching him. They were sitting in bed, the bowl of ice cream between them, cross-legged facing each other. She was wearing a strappy top and pajama shorts that barely covered her butt cheeks. He liked them. He had his briefs on, and a tight fitting black short sleeved T-shirt. The night of the clubhouse party was a week ago. They had basically spent a week feeding each other ice cream and fucking, parting during the day to work and coming back together at night.
