Perfectly Undone (Nomads) Read online

  Perfectly Undone

  erin trejo

  Copyright © 2020 by erin trejo

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Remi

  2. Giselle

  3. Remi

  4. Suzi

  5. Remi

  6. Giselle

  7. Remi

  8. Giselle/Suzi

  9. Remi

  10. Suzi/Giselle

  11. Remi

  12. Giselle

  13. Remi

  14. Giselle

  15. Remi

  16. Giselle

  17. Remi

  18. Giselle

  19. Remi

  20. Giselle

  21. Remi

  22. Giselle

  23. Remi

  24. Giselle

  25. Remi

  26. Giselle

  27. Remi

  28. Giselle

  1

  Remi

  You’ve heard the old saying a series of unfortunate events? That basically sums up my life. I was born to a crack addict that forgot to make her john wear a condom. Who my father is? Who the fuck knows. Where my mom is? That’s an even better question. She traded me when I was three for drugs. In a way it pisses me off but then I look back on my life growing up and it doesn’t really bother me. Angel raised me. Angel is the wife of Kred, an MC President. Kred was the guy that took me in on trade. We laugh about it now. I suppose he’s the one that got me into bikes when I was younger. I used to follow him around the clubhouse like a lost puppy. To me, that’s about all I was. A lost puppy. No one really wanted me. I drove Kred insane when I was a kid but we get along really well now. That wasn’t always the case though. Kred’s the president of Satan’s Hash Mc. I saw what they did and I loved every second of it. I wanted my place but Angel was adamant that I never stepped foot into a clubhouse wearing their colors. That again pissed me off to the point I moved out when I was sixteen. I was jumped, beaten and damn near killed on the streets until I showed back up on their doorstep at seventeen. Like a good mom, she took me back in. I remember her telling me that the club life is hard and as much of a wanderer that I am, I wouldn’t be happy sitting around with them. That’s when I became a prospect for Kred. He kept me under his wing for as long as he could but that instinct to get on the road and see what was out there in the world kicked in. I was antsy. I couldn’t stay in one spot and I didn’t want to.

  Two years later I was granted Nomad status. I could freely roam the world and do what the fuck I wanted in a sense. I made good money while I was out traveling the world. I’d do odds and ends jobs like construction or help out in a mechanics shop. But my most legit gig is working for Kred. No one knows I do his dirty work. No one even bats a fucking eye. I kill for this club. That’s my job and I make damn good money doing it. He even offs me to some of the other Mc’s that he’s cool with and they hand me over jobs. We’ve smartened up over the years and now I switch out burner phones like I change my fucking underwear. Always a new phone, always a new hit. Branching out to other Mc’s that have no fucking clue who I am. All the money and communication is done digitally. Welcome to our day and age. Face to face meets are never an option. They don’t need to know who the fuck I am or where I ride. No names are exchanged and I never take a hit that’s against another club member that I work with. I know how to play my cards. I’ve been street wise since I was a kid.

  I yawn as I pull into the local clubhouse of the Violent Henchmen here in Texas. I’m tired as fuck and hoping they don’t give me any shit here. Most of the clubs accept me as a Nomad. They offer me a place to stay while I’m in town, work if I need it. Even pussy is passed around for free. As I kill the engine, I climb off and pull the helmet from my head, setting it on the seat. A few of the VH come out and give me the once over. I give them a chin lift, which is returned.

  “Your prez around?” I ask walking toward them. They eye my cut when it lands on the nomad patch, they nod.

  “Yeah. Come on in. I’m Beaver,” the older man extends his hand to me.

  “Remi.”

  “How long you been travelin’?” Beaver asks as I follow him inside. The scent of stale cigarettes, motor oil and beer slams into me. Fuck yeah. Just like home.

  “Came down from up north. Only stoppin’ for gas so about nineteen hours. Got a job comin’ up around here soon,” I inform him. I keep it low key like that. I could mean anything from working on a car to blowing half the city up.

  “Goddamn! You Nomad boys sure as fuck can ride. I’m too old for that shit. Yo, Mickey! Nomad over here,” Beaver calls out to another older guy. He sets his beer bottle down, his eyes coming to meet mine. He reminds me of Old Bear back at Kred’s. Greying hair and a beard that hangs down to his beer belly. He stalks toward me, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “Whatcha need, nomad?” He asks in a gruff tone.

  “Just a place to crash for a few hours.” He nods his head and looks me up and down.

  “Last room on the left. I’ll get one of the bitches to make you up somethin’ to eat and bring it down. What’s your name, kid?” He asks.

  “Remi.” He nods his head but doesn’t say another word, just raises his hand and points to the hall.

  “Thanks, brother.” Another nod and he turns to walk away. I head down the hallway not entirely feeling this place but I’m dead ass tired and need a fucking shower. I’ll sleep for a few hours and head back out on the road. Couple more hours and I’ll be right in the heart of Houston and ready for my next job. Passing a few drunk and passed out club whores, I find the last room on the left. Shoving the door open, I step inside and close up behind me. This place is a goddamn dump. I’ve been to some shitty clubhouses but this one is ranking up there in my least favorite category.

  “Fuck,” I grumble running my hand over my face and heading straight to the bathroom. I want to wash the road grime and sweat off me and relax before I have to head out again.

  2

  Giselle

  “Giselle!” I hear him screaming my name as I duck behind the piece of wood. He isn’t going to find me so I don’t know why he tries. When I want to be left alone, that’s what happens.

  “Goddamn it, Giselle! Stop being a baby and get your ass out here!” he yells louder. I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out me. If Andre was any other man, I’d probably obey his wishes but not him. He’s a hulk of a man that’s gayer than any other man I’ve met in my life. I’ve asked him over and over again why he doesn’t just get the sex change and move on with his life.

  “You think this shits funny?” He asks me as he rounds the old rotten wood, his hands on his hips.

  “Matter of fact, yes I do. I don’t need a goddamn babysitter, Andre the fucking giant. Tell daddy to fuck his secretary and leave me alone.” My dad is the Governor of Houston. I am the embarrassment. The girl with the mental disorder. To be fair, daddy didn’t know what he was getting when he and my mom adopted me. They thought they were getting a pretty little blonde haired blue eyed four-year-old. They were right to a point. They got two girls in one. They didn’t know my past when they adopted me but they quickly found out that I wasn’t just Giselle. I was also Suzi. Now they have a twenty-year-old women with split personality disorder. Imagine their surprise when they took me to the shrink and they told them. Daddy was livid. He wanted to sue anyone and everyone he could but there was nothing he could do. Mom on the other hand, she just wanted to love me and make my l
ife worth living. For a long time, I was happy. I was in a good family with good people. I left the past where it belonged but soon mom got sick. The doctors never did figure out what was wrong with her. She died when I was twelve. After that, everything seemed to take a turn for the worse. All of my past came rushing back. Every time daddy would lock me in my room to keep me hidden, I panicked. I wanted to run but Suzi said there were bad people in the world. Some days I hate her. Some days I love her. It’s hard to find a balance between the two of us.

  “You have the nastiest mouth. Did you kiss your momma with that mouth?” Andre, grabs my arm pulling me against his side. I sigh and lean into him. He may be my babysitter but he’s also my best friend.

  “Some times. Don’t you ever get tired of being in one place, Andre?” Peeking up at him under my lashes, I wait to hear what he has to say. I find it amusing that daddy is embarrassed of me but he hired the gayest man in Texas as my babysitter. I know he only did it for the votes and hell that worked in his favor. Having a gay man on your payroll? Yeah, he was a shoe in.

  “And go where, Miss Dynasty? What shall I do? Cross dress and dance on a stage?” Andre always knows how to make me laugh. He’s my best friend and the only one that understands Suzi and me. He can even calm Suzi when she gets in one of her moods. Some days I wonder how I live with her. She can be such a drag at parties and she isn’t the funniest person around. She’s always afraid of danger and all that lurks. I guess that was all from her creation.

  “I think you’d look hot as hell on a stage with that wig you hide in your closet,” I tease Andre. He looks down at me, his eyes flickering with subtle anger.

  “I don’t even need to ask which one of you was in my closet,” he mumbles under his breath knowing Suzi would never pry.

  “I want to be free, Andre. One day, I will be. I will be whisked away on a white horse to my happily ever after. Maybe I’ll even lose Suzi when I do.” Ander chuckles, keeping his grip on me tightly.

  “That is one fairy tale that I hope comes true for you, Giselle. You deserve that much.” Andre leans down placing a kiss on the top of my head as he leads me back inside. As soon as we walk through the door, my father is there with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “When will you stop being such a child? When will you ever grow up, Giselle? Or are you Suzi today?” The snide comment falls on deaf ears. I ignore his questions much like I always do. My dad cuts his eyes to Andre but he doesn’t release the hold he has on me and for that I’m grateful.

  “No. It’s Giselle and I will stop when you treat me as something other than a child. You lock me in my room and expect me to be obedient! I’m never going to do it when you treat me like a prisoner. I’m your daughter, daddy.” The soft cry that escapes me causes him to roll his eyes.

  “My daughter? My daughter wouldn’t have to be locked in a room! She wouldn’t go on about being two people when she is in fact one! And you,” he turns his attention to Andre now, “You encourage this! You are here to keep her company and in line not to be her best friend. How many times do we have to discuss this until you fully understand?” I can’t handle anymore. I break free from Andre’s hold, brushing past my dad and running up the stairs. Straight into my room, I slam the door behind me and lock it.

  “He’s right, Giselle. We need to calm down and take a look at ourselves,” Suzi says. I shrug her off. Some days I can fight her and others she just overtakes me. Today is one I will fight her tooth and nail to get out of this place. Stuffing a few things in my bag including my medicine, I grab my jacket and sit near the window. All I have to do now is wait until it gets dark and I’m out of here for good.

  3

  Remi

  As thankful as I was for the food, shower and sleep, I’m happier to be out of that place. I was going insane listening to their all day party. You would think that shit would have died down at some point but it didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I love to party and party hard but after riding for nearly twenty hours, that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I was happy as hell to hop back on my bike and head out a few hours ago. Now, my blood races in my veins. Fire dances and licks its way up my spine. The impending bloodshed sits at the forefront of my mind. I’m in position. I’m exactly where I need to be. Everything is silent and the crisp night air is eerily still. These are the kills that I love. The ones where I can get up close and personal. The ones that have me in their space and in the air they breathe watching their eyes for any signs of weakness that I can use against them. This job was called in a week ago. Take out the Governor ’s second in command. Seemed easy enough until you get into the logistics of things. The Governor ’s second in command typically came with a shit load of security that I would have to shift through but I found the loophole with that crocked fuck. It seems that Mr. Dynasty has employed himself a drug addicted prostitute loving sack of shit. He’s a deadbeat if you ask me. Not much different than my mother had been. In fact, he might be worse. Lester Ingles. The man that stands tall and proud next to the good old Governor at every one of his TV appearances. The man that shows his face to the world yet hides what he truly is. It makes you wonder what else he’s hiding. I try to investigate my kills beforehand. I like using that knowledge against them to give them a little mind fuck before killing them. It makes it that much more special to me. Slipping my burner phone out, I call Landon, one of my Nomad boys.

  “What’s up, Remi!” he hollers into the line.

  “You drunk motherfucker? What a fuckin’ waste, bro,” I tease him a little. Landon chuckles into the line.

  “Hangin’ over at the Nomad clubhouse. Where the hell are you? Thought you were ridin’ out this way?”

  “Plan on it after this job. You gonna be around in a few days?”

  “Yeah. I’m hangin’ back on a few jobs. Scout is ridin’ into town soon too. Thought it might be nice to kick back and just hang with you boys a little bit,” he says sounding a little overly happy about that. When us Nomad boys get together it’s sure to be a good fucking time. Scout is another one like us that we’ve been friends with for a long fucking time.

  “Heard that. As soon as I finish up on this job, I’m headin’ that way. Save me some good pussy, you bastard,” I tell him with a chuckle.

  “On it. Don’t take too long.” The line goes dead when I slip the phone back in my pocket. I pull my knife out, twirling the blade between my fingers as I watch the site in front of me. Any time now that bastard is set to meet his dealer. Won’t he be fucking surprised when he pulls up and finds me instead. The prick probably won’t even know the difference. It almost amuses me to see just how fucked up in the head he truly is. He can put on the best front in front of the cameras but people like me always see through the façade they carefully put in place. Deciding I’ve had enough of the watching, I shove myself up and stand in front of the row of junk cars that his dealer was supposed to meet him at. I wipe the blood from his useless body on the leg of my jeans when I see headlights heading toward me. About fifteen feet away it stops and a shadowy figure appears. I know it’s Lester by the hunched shoulders and the way his hands shake at his sides. He must really be needing that next hit to keep him going.

  “James?” He asks as he approaches me.

  “No but I got your shit,” I tell him truthfully. It just isn’t the shit he was expecting. With the knife slid up into my sleeve, he will never see it coming. I will though. I will see every pained and stunned look in his eyes. I will see the silent begging that his eyes will hold but I won’t give a shit.

  “You better have all of it!” He growls the closer he gets to me. I chuckle under my breath. Yeah, I got all of it that’s for sure.

  “Don’t worry about that,” I inform him. When he’s standing right in front of me, I sigh. His eyes dance over my face, his hand coming out waiting for that eight ball that is sure to take away all the pain inside of him but that’s not what he gets. Instead, I jerk my hand, letting the knife handle slip into my palm like it was made to b
e there. The tip glistens in the soft glow of his headlights as his eyes widen.

  “What is this?” I shrug.

  “You pissed someone off,” I inform him casually.

  “I can pay you. Whatever they are paying you, I can double it!” I hate when they try to negotiate my kills. Do I look that weak?

  “It’s not particularly about the money, man. I was paid to do a job and I plan to do just that.” His eyes widen as fear slips into his gaze.

  “Who?” Shrugging again, I step closer to him.

  “Don’t know. I take orders and money, that’s all. Names mean shit to me.” I raise the knife and twirl it around my fingers quickly as he watches almost mesmerized by my actions before plunging it into his stomach. As quickly as it slid in, I pull it back out and slice straight across his throat before he has the chance to react or scream. His hand comes to his neck, but it’s too late. The damage is done. His body falls to the ground as he chokes on his own blood. I cock my head and stare down at him as his life slowly leaves his body. Reaching into my pocket, I pull the baggy of drugs free and toss them down next to him, slipping my knife back into it’s holster.

  “Pleasure doin’ business with you, Mr. Ingles. Sadly I can’t say that we’ll be seein’ each other again any time soon.” With a chuckle I turn on my heel and start heading back toward the front where I left my bike when I hear those soft cries. My heart begins to race at the thought of someone seeing me here tonight. I checked the fucking place before I ever got set up! There was no one but when that second cry echoes through the still night, I know I’m wrong. And now I’m going to have to kill for the third time in one night. Leave no witnesses. That’s an easy one when you live the life that I do. Pulling my knife free, I stalk silently around the junk cars and trucks, following the soft cries that I heard. My boots crunch over loose gravel until I still and listen. Shallow and shaky breathes are coming from the broke down Honda next to me. I take a step past the door letting the unintended victim think they are in the clear for a second. I turn slowly and quietly and reach for the door handle. One tiny pop is all it takes. Screams ricochet off every surface in the old junkyard. Fuck, I need to end this quickly.