by Lilly Atlas
“By the way,” Copper said as his palm landed on the door. “You’re taking LJ’s collection runs for the next three months. And don’t think I’ve forgotten you’re planning his patch-in party. Just got delayed…again.”
Huffing out a laugh, Rocket shook his head. There wasn’t anything he hated more than collecting debts for the club’s loan-sharking business. Copper nailed that punishment. As much as he despised the task, he’d suck it up and compete it without a word of complaint. It was the absolute least he deserved. Had he been in Copper’s position, he wouldn’t have been so lenient.
Twenty-seven minutes later, after being sent straight to voicemail, and receiving no response to four text messages, Rocket gave up on contacting Chloe for now. Once Lefty had been dealt with, he’d go seek her out, which meant getting past Izzy. Rocket had a sneaking suspicion Copper planned that as well. Izzy on a good day was a force to be reckoned with. Izzy full of pregnancy hormones was enough to make any man’s balls suck back into their body.
Small price to pay to get his woman back.
As he trekked through the woods to the underground bunker affectionately known as the box, Rocket let thoughts of Chloe fuel his hatred for Lefty. He conjured the images of her beaten, naked, and bound to the hotel bed. She didn’t deserve to be remembered that way, and it would be the last time he thought of her in such a manner. Chloe was strong as fuck and moving past what happened to her. He’d give her the respect of going forward with her. But for tonight? Tonight, he’d bathe in the memories of that night and use them to torment the man responsible for her pain.
When he reached the box, he yanked the heavy wooden door straight up, then descended. With each step, a whistled wheezing grew louder as did the sound of flesh hitting flesh and the weak grunts of a man who was so defeated he could do nothing but lie limp and accept the brutal punishment.
After a minute, Rocket’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the box. A single bulb dangled from the ceiling over Lefty’s head. “Damn, Cop,” Rocket said as he whistled.
His president grunted as he wiped the sweat off his brow with his shoulder. “Mighta got a little carried away.”
It was Rocket’s turn to grunt. “That’s one way to put it.”
Lefty slumped in a chair in the center of the room. He was out cold, completely unconscious with his head lolled back and arms sagging like wet noodles at his sides. There wasn’t a single restraint holding him to the chair. He was beaten all to fuck and couldn’t escape if his life depended on it—which incidentally it did.
“Just us?” Typically, Zach was in on this kind of thing. Sometimes Screw or one of the other exec board members. Not this afternoon. Today it was just Rocket and Copper, the two whose hatred for Lefty ran deepest. Rocket for obvious reasons and Copper for all the grief this man had caused his club. Copper would move heaven and earth for his club, and the demise of Lefty symbolized the culmination of nearly a year of shit.
“Yeah.” Copper strode, as best as he could with a bum leg, to the wall where a hose hung on a large hook. He grabbed it with bloodied-knuckled hands. Shell would be giving him a lecture over that for sure. Unless he told her the reasoning behind it, which Rocket assumed he would. He had a feeling the prez didn’t keep much from his ol’ lady. Once she found out why his knuckles were torn to shreds, she’d probably drop to her knees instead of railing at him.
“You ready?” Copper asked as he aimed the sprayer Lefty’s way.
Rocket nodded. Fuck yes, he was ready. He’d been ready for this shit since the moment he opened the motel room door and discovered an abused Chloe. With a smile that could only be classified as diabolical, Copper squeezed the lever and let loose a blast of frigid water.
Icy droplets sailed off the stream in every direction, pelting Rocket’s face and arms like tiny needles. He didn’t so much as flinch at the discomfort, welcoming it instead. The pricks of pain kept him grounded and present in the moment.
The water sprayed directly into Lefty’s face, eliciting a shriek from a man who looked ready for a casket. He slapped at the water with his hands as though he could somehow stop the ice-cold assault. Copper let it go on for another thirty seconds before killing the spray.
“Welcome back,” he said. “Brought someone to see you.”
Lefty’s head wobbled atop his neck like a bobble head doll. He coughed weakly, attempting to spit water from his mouth. The action had no power behind it, and the spittle just rolled down his chin. After the coughing fit subsided, he moaned and clutched his sides.
“Not much of a big man now, is he?” Copper asked.
Rocket grunted.
He took five steps forward, until he was just two feet away from Lefty. The man’s eyes were hazy, but alert enough to recognize his fate. Shivers racked his body, bouncing him on the metal chair. He gave one last attempt to save himself by trying to push to stand. All he managed to do was flop to the wet ground in a wet, naked, quaking heap.
Both Copper and Rocket laughed.
“What do ya want? Gun? Knife? Wrench?” Copper asked as he pointed to a pile of tools on the ground. “I got it all.”
Without a word, Rocket stalked to the goodies and selected a K-bar knife. A favorite of his. He walked back until he stood over Lefty’s crumpled body.
“Want him back in the chair?”
Rocket shook his head. No, this would do nicely.
He took a deep breath and prepared to settle in for a long afternoon of making this man as miserable as humanly possible. But as he looked down, it wasn’t Lefty he saw, but Chloe. And not the abused and traumatized version of Chloe, but the version who had given herself to him. The version that allowed him to touch her despite her fear and past. The version covered in sweat as she wailed on a heavy bag, determined to beat back every demon. The version who flew into his arms when he returned from Mexico as though she couldn’t bear one more second of separation. The version who clashed with Lefty and won. And the version who risked losing him to save his worthless ass.
Suddenly, an urgent need to be with her clawed at him like a wounded animal trying to escape a trap. All of his priorities fell into place in that moment. Lefty’s fate was set. Rocket was seconds from terminating him. But it didn’t need to take all night. Didn’t need to be drawn out into an elaborate torture session. All that would do was delay him getting to his woman.
And being with her was imperative.
Knife in hand, he crouched, careful to keep from resting his knees in the chilly puddle. “Sorry we were interrupted before,” he said with a snicker.
“F-fuck you,” Lefty said but it came out as a wheezy whisper of words.
“Yikes, you’re not sounding too good. And I’m pretty sure you’re not up for fucking anything right about now.” He placed the tip of the knife to Lefty’s sternum.
Rocket leaned in close to Lefty’s ear while dragging the knife down the man’s body, making sure to score the skin in the process. Might as well have a little fun while he was at it. He stopped when he reached his prisoner’s groin. Lefty’s pitiful moan made him smile. “No one gives a shit that you’re missing. No one’s gonna give a shit that you’re dead. Hell, I bet everyone you know will dance on your grave. But me and my brothers? We’re strong as ever. Free to do whatever the hell we want. Fuck our women. Drink our booze. Make money. Live the good life.”
As he drew in a breath, he spared half a second to enjoy what was about to happen. Then he pushed his arm down, sinking into the flesh of Lefty’s groin and severing his femoral artery. “Enjoy your trip to hell,” he whispered. As blood poured out of the two-inch-long gouge, Rocket withdrew the knife and repeated the process on the other side. Then he stood in silence with Copper while they watched twin crimson rivers run the life out of a psychopath.
Once the light vanished from Lefty’s eyes and the flow of blood slowed to a trickle, Rocket turned to Copper and extended his hand. It was an apology, an affirmation of respect, and a thank you all rolled into one. Their gaz
es met as they shook.
“Shell expects you guys over for dinner tomorrow night,” Copper said as though they hadn’t just killed a man.
Rocket nodded, giving his president’s hand a squeeze.
After one last glance at the dead man lying in a pool of blood on the cement floor, Rocket made his way up the stairs. Halfway there, he heard Copper on the phone. “Need a clean-up in the box,” his president said. “Got some trash to dispose of.”
It was done. The task he’d focused on for months, yet Rocket didn’t feel one ounce of the relief he’d expected. That would only come after he’d laid claim to Chloe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“CHRIST, WOMAN, YOU are going to make me go into labor with all the stress you’re spewing my way,” Izzy said as she intercepted Chloe’s pace halfway through the living room. “Stop moving.” She placed her hands on Chloe’s shoulders and steered her toward the couch. “Sit. Look out the windows at the pretty view. Chill the fuck out, sister.”
Chloe blew out a breath as her leg kicked up a bouncy rhythm. The scenery was nice. A lovely mountain view she’d have appreciated on any other day, but as it was, all she could think about was Logan. About what an ungrateful ass Logan was. Once she got her hands on him she was going to give him some of what she gave Lefty, earlier.
“Jesus, you can’t help yourself.” Izzy slammed her hand down on Chloe’s thigh. “Stop moving! You’re making me nuts.”
“I’m pissed!” With a shake of her head, she flopped back against the couch cushions. “Okay,” she said. “Give it to me.”
Izzy looked down at the can of ginger ale now in her hand. “What? This? No way. You know where the fridge is. Get one yourself.”
“Nice hostess, babe,” Jig yelled from the kitchen. “Want a drink, Clo?”
Ugh. She’d probably vomit anything she tried to swallow. “No thanks, Jig,” she called back. Then for Izzy, “I wasn’t talking about giving me your preggers drink. I meant give it to me. Lay it on me. Tell me how stupid men are so we can bash them together and I can gear up to kick Logan’s ass.
“Ahh,” Izzy said.
What the hell? “Ahh? That’s it. That’s all you got for me? Aren’t you supposed to be the tough one?”
“Well…” Izzy put the soda down on the coffee table, then turned, curling her legs under her. “Normally I’d be the first one on the men-are-pigs bandwagon, but seeing as how I’m also a violent offender, I can kinda see where he’s coming from.” She flinched and held her hands in front of her face. “Don’t hit me. I’m with child.”
With a grunt of laughter, Chloe rolled her eyes. “A violent offender? And I’m not going to hit you, bitch. I’m just going to call you a bitch.”
Izzy grinned at her with a shrug. “I can live with that. Look, you gotta think about this like a man.”
“Jesus,” Jig said from out of sight. “Can’t wait to hear this.”
“Love you too, babe,” Izzy called back. Her comment was followed by his laughter.
“Look, you know you did the right thing calling Copper. Rocket knows it too. He’s just throwing a mantrum because he’s pissed that Lefty got near you. I’m guessing he feels like it was his fault you were alone. You see what I did there? With man and tantru—”
Chloe waved her hand. “Yes, Iz, I see it. You’re so clever.”
“I like to think so.” She rested against the couch with a smug grin.
“You always do,” came Jig’s reply.
Izzy scowled. “New subject. No more talk of Rocket, who I have no doubt will come crawling around soon. How’s your face?”
Lifting a hand to her cheek Chloe winced when her fingers probed the sore skin.
“Well I didn’t ask you to poke it,” Izzy said with a roll of her eyes. “I just asked how it was feeling.”
“Well I had to feel it to know how it was feeling,” Chloe shot back. The two grinned at each other. “It’s sore, but the Advil helped.”
“Yeah and those butterfly bandages are holding it together well, but you may have a scar. Still say you should have gone to the ER so a surgeon could have stitched it up all pretty.”
Chloe blew a raspberry. “Would you have gone to the ER?”
“Well, no, but I’m a badass.” One of Izzy’s perfect black eyebrows arched over her eye.
“Well after today, I think I qualify as one too. Plus, I’ve spent enough days in the hospital for three lifetimes. Not going back unless it’s a matter of life and death.” A shudder traveled through her at the memory of the days spent in the hospital following her attack. Being poked and prodded at all hours, no privacy but plenty of pain.
No thank you. Not even a few hours long ER trip.
“Well, you’ll look cool with a scar. I could cover it with a tat.”
That had Chloe laughing her first real laugh all day. “On my cheek?”
Izzy just shrugged as if to say, “What of it?”
“Not even Mav has ink front and center on his face.”
They sat there for a while longer, shooting the breeze and sharing some laughs. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement to avoid further talk of Rocket, Lefty, or anything that had happened that morning. Fine by Chloe. The distraction went a long way toward leveling her out.
After more than an hour of chatter, her eyelids grew heavy. “You mind if I lie down for a bit? All of a sudden I’m zonked.” Plus, she could use a few minutes alone to sort out what she’d say when she next saw Logan.
Izzy stared at her as though trying to decide whether it was a good idea or not. “Sure. Guest room is the only door on the right.”
“Thanks, Izz.” She leaned forward and gave her friend a hug. “Thanks for everything.”
“Please do not thank me. Us ol’ ladies need to stick together if we want to keep these bikers in line.”
“Amen, sister.”
She walked toward the room feeling like the air was made of thick goo. Without bothering to remove any clothing or pull back the blankets, she flopped back-first onto the bed. Softness enveloped her, a counter to the ache in her heart at the memory of Logan’s anger.
God, the way he’d glared at her. She probably could have shot him, and he wouldn’t have been as devastated. His eyes reflected just how much her actions gutted him. Whatever headway she’d made into his heart was completely obliterated by one phone call. Thing of it was, no matter how many times she replayed the incident in her head—and it’d been hundreds of times in the past two hours—she couldn’t come up with a single alternate solution.
Bottom line, she loved Logan. Loved him so hard, she would do anything to keep him from suffering an ounce of pain. And she knew in her heart she’d done the right thing. He just had to come to the same conclusion somehow. Losing the club would have altered the course of his life in the most negative way possible. He’d be adrift. Floating through life without purpose or family. And that would have destroyed her right alongside him. He may hate her at the moment, but someday in the future he’d think back to this time and realize she called Copper to step in because she loved him. Not because she couldn’t bear the thought of him killing Lefty. That was an inevitability.
It didn’t take long for the lull of sleep to pull her under. When she woke, she had no clue what time it was. The first thing her brain picked up on was the throbbing in her cheek and hammering in her head. Her eyes were also gritty as though she’d been crying in her sleep. How TV movie of her. Though not entirely unexpected after the intensity of the day. With a sigh, she rolled to her back and winced at the soreness from her fight with Lefty.
Something sounded outside her door. Chloe sat, straining her ears.
“I’m telling you this right now, bucko, you fuck this up further and I swear to God Lefty won’t be the only one dying today. You catch my drift?”
“Babe, I’m pretty sure he gets your meaning. You’re about as subtle as an avalanche.”
Izzy harrumphed. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page. And
we are, right, Logan?”
Logan grunted and Chloe’s lips quirked. Leave it to him to respond to a threat with a sound instead of words.
“Go on in,” Izzy said. “I checked on her twenty minutes ago and she was passed out.”
She imagined Logan nodding as he reached for the door. Footsteps indicated Jig and Izzy’s retreat. As the doorknob turned, Chloe sucked in a breath and quickly smoothed her hair down. Shit, she must look like a wretched hag. She rubbed a thumb under each eye. They came away black. Great, mascara tracks were always a man-pleaser.
“Oh, you’re up.” Logan said as he soundlessly stepped into the room.
“Yeah, I, uh, just woke up. What time is it?”
“About four.”
“Wow.” She hadn’t meant to sleep for two hours.
“Can I sit?” he asked, indicating the spot next to her on the bed.
“Go ahead.” Chloe scooted until her back met the wall. She drew her knees up and wrapped an arm around them in a sort of metaphorical shield for her heart. After toeing off his boots, Rocket sat against the headboard and stretched out his legs.
There was a crease between his eyes. It tended to pop up when he was deep in thought. The fact he hadn’t stepped right in the room and told her to fuck off had to be a good sign, right?
Who the hell knew at this point?
After at least three minutes of silence, Chloe was losing her mind. Someone had to say something before the pressure became so great, the room exploded off the side of Izzy and Jig’s house. “So, uh, did you…”
“I fucked up,” Logan said at the same time.
“Huh?” She blinked at him. “I mean, what did you say?”
Logan’s sigh was heavy and full of pain. “I fucked up.”
As her head shook side to side, Chloe said, “No. You just got caught up in the thought of finally getting Lefty. I understand why, Logan.”
He huffed a soft chuckle. “Well, I fucked that up too, but it’s not what I was referring to. I’m talking to how I treated you at your house. My reaction to you calling Copper.”