Rocket (Hell's Handlers MC Book 5)

by Lilly Atlas

  “I love you too, Logan.”

  He gave her a sweet lingering kiss, then gathered her close. All that remained was for the club to deal with Lefty. Then they could begin to put this part of their lives in the past and move forward. Hopefully together and with his big crazy club family.

  “I’m home, baby,” he whispered into her hair. “Won’t leave you like that again. Time to turn your brain off and let me take on all the worries for a while.”

  The most amazing feeling of safety and love wrapped itself around Chloe, allowing her to fully relax for the first time since Logan walked out the door a few weeks ago. She put everything out of her brain and allowed herself to sleep, knowing the man surrounding her would keep the world at bay at least until she woke.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “HEY, BROTHER, DAMN good to have you back.” LJ held out a meaty hand. When Rocket grabbed it, LJ pulled him into a rib-shattering hug complete with a heavy back slap that stole his wind. And it damn sure didn’t do any favors for his sore body.

  Still, it meant he was home, alive, and done with DarkOps.

  “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” Well, maybe back in bed. Buried inside his woman. But, damn if it didn’t feel good to be back in his cut and strolling into the clubhouse. Being absent so long really drove home where he belonged.

  With his club family.

  And his woman.

  Chloe was off taking care of a few tasks at her house while Rocket met with Copper and the rest of the executive committee. Soon as the meet was over, he’d swing by and pick her up. Then they’d be heading to his place where he intended to barricade the door and keep her naked and satisfied for the next three or four days.

  “How’d everything go in my absence?” Rocket asked the prospect he’d left in charge of his business for the past three weeks. LJ had been working for him almost two years now, and was personable, hardworking, and respected by everyone he came in contact with. He was turning out to be a perfect number two. The guy would make a great brother too. He was due to be patched in any time now. Actually, he was long overdue, but with all the chaos in the club recently, his patch-in had been delayed a few months.

  Of course, LJ hadn’t bitched once. He’d taken on every chore the club assigned him, shitty or not, and performed it like a rock star. About nine months ago, he’d suffered a nasty beating while trying to protect Maverick. Ended up in the hospital for a good few days. Never wavered in his loyalty for a second. There wasn’t a brother in the club who wouldn’t vote him in in a heartbeat. Which reminded Rocket, he was supposed to be on the fucking party planning committee. Once again, LJ’s patch-in had been postponed due to club drama.

  “Smooth sailing, Rocket. We’re actually ahead of schedule on the bank renovation.”

  Rocket smiled. “Good work, man.” He shook LJ’s giant hand again. LJ stood for Little Jack which was pretty much the complete opposite of the six-foot-six-inch three-hundred-pound monster of a man. “Appreciate you stepping up.”

  “Thanks for trusting me.”

  “No one better for the job.”

  LJ beamed, the hulk looking more like a boy who’d been given a treat.

  “Prez in?”

  “Yeah, most of ’em are there. Think they’re just waiting on you and—”

  Maverick burst through the door.

  “Maverick.”

  He strode into the room with a shit-eating grin on his face and a bandage on his neck. New tat probably. Seemed like he was gunning for Guinness Book status. “Yo, LJ, you seen the porn with that tall blonde chick with big tits? You know, she’s sucking off that guy with the Godzilla dick, then he comes all over—”

  “Seriously?” LJ cut in with a laugh. “The porn with the big-titted blonde and Godzilla-dicked dude? You pretty much described ninety percent of the porn out there.”

  “Hmm.” Mav pursed his lips. “There was this thing in there I wanted to try with Steph, but I couldn’t find it again. Oh well. I’ll just have to get creative.” He waggled his eyebrows then turned as though just noticing Rocket was there. “Hey, Rocket, glad you made it home in one piece, brother.” Mav hugged him much the same way LJ did but without LJ’s bulk, Rocket didn’t feel quite so squashed by this one.

  Still laughing, LJ said, “I don’t know how that sweet woman of yours puts up with your perverted ass, Mav.”

  There went the eyebrows again. “That woman happens to love my ass. And my—”

  “That your trap I hear running on and on out there, Maverick?” Copper’s voice boomed out of the chapel.

  “Looks like our master calleth,” Mav said with a slap for LJ’s back. “Let’s roll, Rocket.”

  They joined the rest of the exec board which consisted of Zach, Jig, Viper, and Copper. Screw had also been sitting in lately as he was working closely with Zach as backup enforcer. He hadn’t technically been patched long enough to hold an exec position, so he wasn’t allowed a vote, but he’d been vital to Zach over the past few months. After taking a vote, it became clear no one had issue with him attending the meetings.

  “Welcome back, brother,” Copper said. He sat in his spot at the head of the table. Each of the men had a glass in front of them.

  Jigsaw held one out to Rocket. “Prez broke out the good shit just for you.”

  He raised an eyebrow at Copper who was nodding. “Thought your return, the official end to your involvement with DarkOps, and the impending end of Lefty deserved the Macallan.”

  Damn, he really did dig into the good shit. Had he mentioned how fucking great it was to be home?

  Cop lifted his glass and the guys followed. “Job well done, Rocket. Know this wasn’t easy for you, and you look like complete shit, so it couldn’t have been a cakewalk. This club owes you.”

  “Fuck no it doesn’t,” Rocket said, but he lifted his glass as the other men followed and sipped the expensive scotch.

  “Cop’s right. You’re looking kinda worked over there, brother,” Zach said from across the table.

  Rocket narrowed his eyes at their enforcer. “Rough few weeks. You know who else was looking kinda worked over?”

  Zach winced. “Shit, brother. We tried our damn fucking best. Short of drugging her, I couldn’t force her to sleep. Toni started feeding her at the diner as soon as we realized she was dropping pounds. She doin’ okay?”

  Rocket nodded. She was now, and he’d make damn sure she stayed that way.

  “Get everything settled yesterday?” Copper asked.

  “Yeah. It’s all good. We covered our tracks real well. Had a visit from Esposito when I got home. Seems to have worked. He’s satisfied the marks are dead. Even congratulated me on having the balls to whack a kid.” Rocket’s stomach soured at the memory.

  “Fucker,” Jig muttered.

  “Agree with you there, brother. You think he’s done with you?” Copper asked with a concerned expression.

  Rocket nodded. “I do. He said as much, and he may be a piece of shit, but he’ll stick to his word.”

  “And our payment?” Copper’s eyes now gleamed with a familiar need for vengeance.

  “Will be delivered tomorrow at the latest. Just waiting on communication via text.”

  “I want to hear as soon as you do, get me, Rocket?” Copper pierced him with a laser stare.

  For a split-second, it seemed as though Copper could sense the plans for Lefty’s death and dismemberment rolling through Rocket’s brain. “I get you,” he said though the words cost him. Handing Lefty over would take a feat of internal strength he might not possess.

  “No going off half-cocked. No vigilante shit. No solo shit. I’m to be kept in the loop the entire fucking time. Know it was your ass out there doing the dirty work, and you’ll be compensated for your time and trouble, but Lefty belongs to the club.” He leaned across the table offering his fist to Rocket. “You have my word, you can be the one to pull the trigger, but you’re not doing it until I get some time with him.” There wasn’t an inch of wiggle room
in his tone. Absolutely no room for argument or even discussion.

  For the first time since he patched in, a part of him wanted to tell Copper to fuck off. Lefty was his. Motherfucking his. He’d raped and beaten Rocket’s woman. If Rocket had his way, he’d keep Lefty locked up and at his mercy for weeks. Slowly carving away at his body until nothing remained but a bloody mess begging for death. Even then, he might not grant the bastard’s wish. But that wasn’t how Copper wanted it done. The club had been after Lefty for months. As much as it burned his ass to share the spoils, Cop would make Lefty pay and only then would Rocket end him.

  And Chloe’s demons would be vanquished.

  That was the end goal. Not Rocket’s insatiable thirst for vengeance. Though he’d still get to feed his bloodlust. And enjoy every fucking second of it.

  He bumped his fist against Copper’s. “Said I get it, prez. And I don’t want the club’s fucking money. Lefty’s death is payment enough.”

  With a nod, Copper scratched at his beard. The damn thing was getting downright scraggly. Only a matter of time before Shell started riding his ass about that. She probably gave him leeway due to his recent injuries. “Anything else?” He made eye contact with each of the men as they shook their heads. “Well if that’s it, we’re done here. Anybody sticking around?”

  “I got some shit to do in my office,” Jig said. As club treasurer, and anal-retentive record keeper, he spent a fair amount of time glued to a computer screen.

  Rocket nearly shuddered. Better Jig than him. Just the thought of dealing with the club’s finances made him want to run screaming.

  “I’m out. Gotta pick up Clo.”

  His brothers shared looks and smirks between them.

  “What?”

  “Rocket and Chloe sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Though Mav was the only one brave—or stupid—enough to taunt him, the rest of the assholes busted out laughing.

  Rocket gave them all his best fuck you glare, which did nothing to stem the heckling.

  “First comes fucking, then comes more fucking, third comes a baby in a baby carriage,” Mav sing-songed.

  Flipping him off, Rocket said, “First of all, you should be singing that to Jig. He’s the one who’s woman is knocked the fuck up. And second, fuck you all.”

  Of course, that did nothing to stop the singing. In fact, the whole damn lot of them busted out in Maverick’s jingle. By the time they finished the second round, they were all howling like a bunch of fucking buffoons. “Jesus,” Zach said as he wiped his eyes. “He’s even using full sentences. Must be getting damn serious.”

  Copper was the first to get control of himself. No surprise there. “Hey, for real, brother, you thinking about making this official?”

  Christ, had he known he’d be walking back into tenth grade, he’d have brought a trapper keeper and letterman jacket. They all stared at him, practically slobbering for his answer. God, how he hated being under the microscope.

  “Hey, brother,” Zach broke in. “We all fucking love that woman. In case that means anything to you.”

  As he scanned the room and the curious expressions on his brother’s faces, he actually relaxed somewhat. Sure, they may tease the fuck outta him, but every single man in the room cared about him as though he was a blood brother. And he felt the same for them. He’d take a bullet for any of these fuckers without thought.

  He had to admit it was a damn nice feeling.

  “Making her my ol’ lady.”

  Mav whistled and slapped his palm on the table while the rest of the guys broke out in applause. “Another one bites the dust, baby,” Mav shouted.

  Rocket rolled his eyes and started for the door, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Good thing his back was to the table full of jokers. Last thing they needed was more ammo.

  As he stepped out into the sun-warmed air, his phone rang from his pocket. Without looking, he palmed it and brought it to his ear. Now that he was done with DarkOps, he didn’t so much care about vetting each call. “Rocket,” he barked into the phone.

  The greeting was met with hitched gasps. Pulling the phone away, he glanced at the screen. His stomach took a dive.

  “Clo?” Rocket said into the phone as he picked up his pace.

  “L-logan?” The terror in her voice had him flat out running toward his bike. “I need you. Now.”

  “Baby, you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong.” His heart raced in time with his pounding footfalls.

  Her next words rendered him momentarily immobile before he flung a leg over his bike, hit the throttle, and peeled out of the parking lot at breakneck speed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  IF SOMEONE HAD told her in only a matter of weeks her house would no longer feel like her home, Chloe would have laughed in their face. Two years ago, when she’d purchased the little ranch style, she’d been elated and so damn proud of herself. Her first major display of independence. At the time, she’d imagined a man moving in with her one day. The little three-room abode would be their starter home. Maybe the place they’d have their first child. Start a little family. Make memories and traditions.

  Now?

  Now she couldn’t pack fast enough, dying to return to the tranquility and safety of Logan’s house. His place had become so much more than her boyfriend’s—or whatever he officially was—house. His custom-built cabin had become her safe haven, her comfort zone, her…home.

  Hopefully she wasn’t a total fool for thinking along those lines.

  Chloe rummaged through her top desk drawer, searching for a specific flash drive. The one with her biggest client’s tax records—ah, there it was. After slipping it into her purse, she made her way through her small kitchen to the opposite end of the house where the other two bedrooms were located.

  Clothes were the next necessity to be packed. At the rate she was moving belongings to Logan’s, it wouldn’t be long before she had more stuff at his place than she did at her own. She sighed as she dropped her purse on the kitchen counter. Perhaps it was time to have the dreaded discussion. The where-was-this-going talk. Ugh, that was bound to be awkward as hell with a biker who wasn’t big on conversation.

  Or, maybe she could just enjoy Logan being home and stop trying to organize her entire future. There was an idea.

  Chuckling to herself, she stepped into her bedroom, and let out a blood-curdling scream. The room swirled, nausea swamped her, and her knees nearly buckled. A loud voice inside her head screamed at her to run, but her feet were rooted to the floor as though superglued in place.

  “Hey, Chloe. Been awhile.” Lefty stood at her dresser, a pair of her silky panties dangling from his finger. “These are nice.” He stroked the soft material down his face, pausing to inhale, and Chloe almost vomited. “Too bad you weren’t wearing them when we—”

  The crude reminder of what he did to her was enough to shock her out of her frozen state. She spun, running out of the room and down the hall at full speed. Laughter followed her before the sound of pounding boots chased her down. She’d almost made it to the front door when a hand grabbed her ponytail and jerked her back against a hard chest. Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes from the pain of being held by her hair.

  This was it. It was happening again. Her heart pounded out of control as she anticipated the pain to come.

  “Where you going? We were just about to get reacquainted.” He circled her throat with his hand, the pressure just enough to have her stilling, then trailed it down the front of her body, squeezing a breast as he went. She trembled as heart-stopping memories assaulted her.

  She started to drift off in her mind, going to another place as she prepared for a repeat of the most painful and humiliating experience of her life. His hand began to journey downward, but just as the tips of his fingers brushed the waistband of her jeans, a voice sounded in her head.

  Izzy’s voice.

  Someone comes after you, you’re not gonna defend yourself, you’re going on the offensive to take the mot
herfucker out.

  Fuck this. Fire shot through her veins as she channeled the feeling of power she’d experienced fighting Jig. It might not work, he might overpower her and hurt her all over again, but this time she was going down fucking swinging.

  Never again would she be a helpless victim tied to a bed as men assaulted her.

  With a feral cry, Chloe lifted her foot and thrust it straight back with as much force as she could muster. Lefty never saw the attack coming, and when the thick heel of her biker boot slammed into his kneecap, he shouted and released her.

  Instead of running for the door, Chloe spun and assumed the fighting stance Jig had taught her. With his attention momentarily on the pain in his knee, Lefty missed her next strike as well. A perfectly executed punch to his gut.

  As he doubled over, Chloe straightened to her full height. A high that was positively electric shot through her. She bounced on the balls of her feet, grinning like a maniac. “What’s wrong, fucker? Not exactly how you planned our reunion?”

  Lefty growled and charged forward. Chloe dodged right, but not fast enough. His shoulder hit her hip, sending her crashing backward onto the floor, narrowly missing the corner of a coffee table. As she hit the ground, she cried out, stunned for a split-second by the pain in her upper back.

  But it was long enough for him to be on her. His fist connected with her cheek in a punch so agonizing, her vision blurred and she swore her face split in two.

  Like some kind of wild animal, Chloe fought his attempts to pin her arms above her head. A technique Jig taught her came to mind and she bucked her hips up. Hard. The move unbalanced Lefty, who went tumbling off her body.

  Chloe flipped onto her stomach and crawled away as fast as she could. The blood rushing through her ears made it impossible to hear anything. Just as she was about to stand, Lefty’s hand closed around her ankle. As if by instinct, she kicked back with her free leg, connecting with something that had a high-pitched scream coming from Lefty.