Filed to story: The LORDS Series Free PDF by Shantel Tessier
The room is eerily quiet as everyone watches. He takes a deep breath and tosses his cards down onto the table, folding.
I lay mine down, and he jumps to his feet, slapping his hands on the felt. “What the fuck?” he barks out. “You made me believe you had the winning hand.”
I didn’t.
Sitting back in my seat, he storms over to the bar and gets another drink. I wait for him to return. Because a desperate man is a predictable man.
Kashton still stands behind me with my duffle bag at his feet. I make no move to get up. The dealer patiently waits as he too watches the man drink down another. He knows he’s going to return and ask me to play him again. I’ve hurt his ego. Made him look like a fool in front of friends and colleagues.
“Everyone out,” he commands from the bar, and I hide my smile while taking a sip of bourbon.
Eight men usher themselves out along with two waitresses and the cashier. I push my chair back to stand, buttoning my suit jacket.
“Not you.” He points at me.
“I’m done for the evening,” I say, stepping from the table.
“One more game. Three million.” His eyes drop to my duffle bag that Kashton holds, licking his lips. He’s hungry. Desperate. He was given a deadline, and he’s past it.
I take a quick look around. Haidyn is still at the bar, eyes on me. Adam is by the exit; arms crossed over his chest and gives me a nod. He’s locked the door, and Kash remains behind me.
I reach up, rubbing my chin to contemplate if I want to play, but it’s a signal. “Alright.” I give him a nod. “One game. Three million.”
We get seated once again, and before the dealer can even touch the cards, Haidyn comes up behind him, grabs his head, and twists his neck, breaking it.
His head falls to the felt, and the guy next to me jumps up, shouting. I grab the back of his neck and slam the side of his face into the poker table, making him groan.
He goes limp and starts to fall to the floor, but Kashton helps me get him onto the table. Laying him on his back, I jump up onto the felt and straddle his stomach. Adam reaches into the duffle bag and pulls out the rope.
“What-?” The guy groans, looking around aimlessly.
Haidyn shoves a bar towel into his mouth to silence him. I’m not sure how much time we’ve got, but the clock has started, and we’ve still got three more names to cross off before we can get off this yacht.
Kashton makes quick work tying the guy’s wrists together with the rope from the bag, and then he plops down in a chair, restraining them above his head.
I rip his button-down shirt open to expose his chest to the room as Haidyn hands me a pair of serving tongs, and the guys eyes widen. “This is going to hurt.” I say before I press it to his chest and squeeze the tongs into his skin over his brand.
He throws his head back, screaming into the bar towel. Pulling the skin as hard as I can, I take a pocketknife and slice off his brand.
His body bucks and thrashes, and I squeeze him with my legs to keep him in place. “I need a bag,” I shout, and Haidyn rushes over to the bar and grabs a small baggie. Coming back, he opens it up for me and I drop the bloody piece of skin covered with the Lords crest into it.
I jump up, standing with my feet on either side of his hips. “Turn him over.”
Haidyn and Adam flip him onto his stomach while Kashton undoes the rope around his wrists. We’ve got to switch things up. Falling to my knees, I straddle his back this time and help Kashton reposition his arms behind his back and tie his wrists in place while Haidyn and Adam tie his ankles together and then to the bag.
Jumping down, I walk around where his head hangs off the edge of the blood-covered table. I yank the bar towel from his mouth, and spit flies out as he starts to shout.
“I was told to give you this.” I shove a piece of paper into his mouth, and he gags as I shove it to the back of his throat. “That’s it.” I press further, and he chokes. “Swallow it. All the way.” When I feel his throat work, I remove my hand and tap the side of his face. “Good boy.”
He’s gasping and tears run down his face. “You son of a bitch. I’ll have you killed…”
“We’re all going to die,” I tell him and shove the bar towel back into his mouth to silence him again. Haidyn hands me the duct tape, and I wrap it around his head, making sure he can’t spit out the towel. “But today is your day.”
Once he’s ready, Haidyn and I grab him while Adam grabs the dead dealer, and Kashton collects the duffle bag off the floor. We exit the sliding glass door out onto the private balcony. It’s windy and cold outside as the yacht continues farther and farther out to sea. It’s an all-night party and won’t return to the marina until morning. We’ll be long gone by then.
We lay him on a chair and connect the excess of rope around his ankles to the leather handles, securing him to the duffle bag. I had lead pipes hidden underneath the money in the bag. We needed the added weight and the bag to not look suspicious.
He’s shaking his head furiously as he screams into the tape and bar towel. “Don’t worry, I’ve included your money in the bag as well.” I smile at him.
“What are we doing with him?” Adam kicks the dead dealer.
I take my pocketknife, bend and cut the guy down his stomach and chest. Blood pours out of the now open wound and the other guy starts to gag as it bathes him in it. “Hand me another rope.” I hold my hand up to no one in particular, and Haidyn gives it to me. I wrap it around the dead guy’s neck a few times and tie it off and wrap what’s left around the other man. “The weight should hold both. And if not, I’m sure something will eat them.”
It takes all four of us to lift them both and get them over the railing to throw them into the ocean. I lean over and watch to see if they surface. It never happens. Either they sank to the bottom or the yacht sucked them under and the propellers got them. Either way, one down and three to go.
“Clean up,” Haidyn says, dropping his backpack next to us. “Onto the next.”
A Lord isn’t a coward. And only a coward would hide who they really are. A part of our point to prove is that we are untouchable. You can’t fuck with us because we fuck back. And where anyone else would end up in jail for such a crime, we’ll be walking the streets, as free men.
FOUR
SAINT
INITIATION
ONE OF THEM
Senior year at Barrington University
I breathe heavily into the hood that covers my head. It’s too thick to see through, but by the heat on my chest, I can tell I’m outside in the sun. I’m shirtless but dressed in jeans and my boots.
There’s a wooden post at my back, and my arms are tied behind it, the rope tight and cutting into my wrists. I can feel the post cutting up my back with the slightest of movement. There’s rope around my neck securing me to it along with my ankles. The less movement we’re allowed the better.
My heart pounds in my chest, and sweat runs down my exposed skin. I’ve been like this for quite some time. It’s the waiting that they want to terrify you. The unknown.
I thrive off it. Surprise me. Give me something to look forward to. When you’re forced to hunt and kill, the chase gets old. Sometimes you have to offer yourself up as bait, and that’s when the true fun begins.
The smell of smoke fills my runny nose, and I know they’ve started the fire. The heat will soon follow.
The hood is yanked from my head, and I blink rapidly as my assumption was right and the sun blasts my sensitive eyes. I try to bow my head, but the rough rope wrapped around my neck prevents it.
“Lords.” I hear a man’s voice, and I pry them open to see a Lord standing on the other side of a large fire pit. Four branding irons waiting to be used. To be a reminder of who we are and what we’ll do.
A quick look out of the corner of my eyes, I know that I’m not alone out here in the courtyard at Carnage. So are my brothers.
“Today is the day that you take your oath. And with that oath comes great responsibility.” His voice carries out and over to the balconies of Carnage where Lords stand. They’re not dressed in their usual cloaks and masks. Today is the day they get to be seen. Their chance to show their respect to those of us who are being given the gift of their world. “As a Spade brother, you will be the ones who must punish those who disobey their oath. You will show them that we do not take our life for granted. You are their jury and executioner. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” the four of us say in unison.
He nods and takes a step back from the now raging firepit.
My father comes into view, standing in front of me. His arms are crossed behind his back, and his chest bows out with pride. “Saint Beckham Carter, you have completed all your trials of initiation. Do you wish to proceed?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, trying to stretch my neck, but it just tightens the rope. The heat from the growing fire makes me hot, and the sweat that covers my skin burns where the rope has rubbed me raw.
He clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “A Lord must be willing to go above and beyond for his title. He must show strength and have what it takes. If you fail your position as a Lord, your brother will take what you earned.” He gives me his back and picks up the end of one of the brands that’s dipped in the fire.