(Warning… Aksel. Enough said.)
“Touch my shit again and I’m going to fuck your momma’s sloppy cunt with a tire iron.”
The blood drained from the maid’s face. She babbled in Spanish, backing out of the door. A dust cloth flapped in the sign of the cross repeatedly as she spoke. Her shoulder bounced off the door frame twice before she made it out the door. Footsteps pounded down the hallway in her wake.
Aksel sneered. He hated living somewhere so public. What few things he did keep around weren’t something he wanted some idiot human molesting. Hell, he didn’t want anyone to know that there was something in the universe he cared about almost as much as he cared about himself.
“Stupid humans. Stupid city.” He sat down on the edge of the soiled bed.
The thugs he’d conscripted to do his dirty work had rebelled two weeks ago. They found God–or whatever the fuck they wanted to call it–and demonstrated their enlightenment by setting the rap-trap bar Aksel called home on fire. He’d barely managed to get himself and the duffel bag of crap that comprised his entire life out before the roof collapsed.
To say the demon was pissed would be a vast understatement.
That left him scrounging for a place to shower and kick up his feet. Aksel found the most decrepit shithole he could find on short notice and called it home. He didn’t need the bed; sleep never gave him the peace and rejuvenation it did for humans. All it did was invite in thoughts best left in the bowels of hell with his extended family.
Aksel’s cell phone buzzed. He pulled the damned thing out of his pocket and called up the text message.
“Thank you, Nacho.” A grin cut across his face.
Nacho Moreno stepped up to the plate after Aksel dealt with his previous head honcho… by removing the bastard’s head and displaying it on a spike in the smoldering ruins of the bar. So far Nacho proved to be damn helpful. For his sake, he better stay that way, Aksel mused. He was itching for another blood bath.
Which, ironically, is what Nacho set up for him across town.
Aksel left his over shirt on the bed and patted his hip to make sure his baby was still in her sheath. The knife went everywhere with him, even the shower. If he could’ve found a way to fuck her, he would have long before. It was the only long-term relationship he wanted.
Summers in the valley were about as pleasant as winter in Hell–hot as shit and made your balls stick to your legs no matter what you did. Aksel adjusted his pants for the umpteenth time and slid in behind the wheel of a POS car he borrowed from a guy that’d tried to screw him out of a drug deal. It took a while to scrape his blood and brains off the bumper, but the car ran and that was all that mattered.
Aksel drove over to the west side. His body hummed with the need to release. All the bullshit of rebuilding his street army left him very little time for simple pleasures. Sure, he’d gutted a few worthless fucks here and there, but it wasn’t what his body craved. Something softer would fit the bill just nice.
He stopped the car in front of a sprawling set of one-story apartments. Window shutters hung cockeyed off the dingy stucco walls. Feral cats darted between dying bushes. The stench coated the inside of Aksel’s nose–piss, sweat, and garbage. For a moment, he felt at home.
A shrill whistle cut through the hot air. Aksel turned left and flipped the bird at his second-in-command. Nacho returned the gesture without so much as a flinch. He’d watched the demon at work and didn’t give a fuck. That kind of sentiment warmed Aksel’s heart.
“You got what I asked for?”
Nacho wiped the sweat off his forehead with a red bandanna. “No I called you here because I wanted to look at your ugly ass. She’s in number seven. You’ve got an hour before I come back to clean up.”
“An hour isn’t long enough,” Aksel sneered. He had plans in mind for today and none of them were wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.
“Cops swing by once an hour to catch cokeheads scoring. Get your dick wet, get out. I’m not catching heat because you wanted to cuddle after.”
Without another word, Nacho walked to his car and took off. Aksel stared after him, wondering if he’d made a huge mistake bringing the human into the more personal side of his life while simultaneously regretting that he hadn’t found him sooner.
Aksel found number seven and knocked in the scarred door. Bad hinges groaned as it swung inward.
A woman in her mid-thirties sized him up from inside the dim apartment. Shrewd hazel eyes took in every last inch of him, including the knife hooked on his belt.
She let go of the faux silk robe covering her. Pink and black lace flashed his way as she gestured inside. “Come on in, but if you reach for that blade, I’ll shoot a hole in your kneecaps.”
Aksel grinned and followed her into the apartment. “This is going to be a fun fucking hour.”