by K. S. Ellis
'I'm going to give you a list of questions, and you're going to find out the answers, and then come and tell me. From what I've heard going around, you have him completely enslaved by your pussy, and he will tell you anything.' I feel the heat splash across my cheeks. I know that Cory and I aren't actually related, but he's still kind of my brother. He shouldn't be talking about, or even thinking about my lady bits.
'I don't know where you get your information, but you've heard wrong,' I hiss at him, wriggling my wrist, trying to free it from his death grip. What is it about desperation that makes people so darn strong?
'I don't think it is,' he hisses back at me. And then a resigned look crosses his face. 'I can see that you're just going to go running back to him and tell him all about this little conversation of ours,' he sighs, like I'm a fucking disappointment or something and he's not the biggest piece of fucking shit in America. 'If you won't tell me what you know voluntarily, then we'll just have to make you talk.' My eyes narrow when he slips from talking about himself singularly to himself as part of a group. Who the fuck is "we"? I struggle harder to try to free my wrist and he reaches across the table and slaps me hard cross the face. My head cracks back with the force, and it feels like my eyeball is exploding.
'Hey!' Hannah shouts and I can see her rounding the bar. 'What the fuck do you think you're doing? Let go of her!'
'You stay the fuck out of this,' Cory shouts back at her, and she stops in her tracks. 'This is a fucking family matter.' She looks between the two of us, and I hope that she can see the plea in my eyes. Hannah retreats slowly back to the bar, but I can see that her eyes are still locked on us.
'Let me go, Cory,' I hiss at him, straining against his hold. 'And I promise I won't say anything to Aric. Or to the club.' He lets out a hollow laugh and I feel sick to the pit of my stomach. I think he can see straight through that lie.
'It's a little too late for that, Lena.' A biker steps up beside us, and I can see his Wild Hawks cut, but I don't recognize him, and then a fist smashes into the side of my face and everything goes black.
I wake up and I'm in a dirty room with no furniture and a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, barely putting out enough light to banish the shadows from the corners of the room. A large man looms over me, wearing a Wild Hawks cut, and another one lounges near the door.
'Tell me,' the guy by the door starts talking in an oily tone, 'who in the Wild Hawks doesn't get along with the President and Vice President?' I stare at him, blinking the fuzziness away. My head hurts in two places now, and I can taste blood in my mouth from where I'm pretty sure I've bitten my tongue.
'I don't know what you're talking about,' I groan, gingerly touching my swelling cheek. Oily guy nods at big guy, who drives a fist into my stomach. I double over, falling forward onto my hands and knees on the floor, sucking in air.
'I want to know what the weaknesses of the club are,' Oily speaks again. I take a few more deep breaths and then throw him a dirty look.
'Aren't you in the club?' I jerk my chin at his Wild Hawks cut. 'What the hell is this, some kind of test?' Oily nods again and Big brings his booted foot up, catching me in the ribs and lifting me off the floor. I land hard on my back, my head hitting the concrete and light explodes before my eyes as pain radiates from my ribs.
'No test,' he speaks again, like we're exchanging pleasantries about the weather. 'I want to know how to infiltrate and overthrow the Shaw's. So,' his piercing gaze holds mine. 'You are going to tell me everything you know about the club dynamics or you are going to be in a world of pain.'
'Sorry to break it to you,' I spit out at him, glaring up from my position on my back, 'but they don't really tell me things. I'm just there for Aric to fuck.' Oily laughs, but it's not a pleasant sound.
'My dear,' he leans forward, away from the wall, 'you have been living in the clubhouse, in the VP's bedroom, for over a month. You've renovated his fucking bedroom, and he hasn’t fucked another pussy the entire time.' Big cracks his fingers menacingly. 'Just tell us everything that you've seen. Who fights with who, who fucks who. Every small detail will help.' I narrow my eyes at him and sneer.
'I'm not fucking telling you shit,' I spit out. At my words, Oily sighs, and then lounges back against the wall.
'Maybe not yet, my dear,' he smirks, 'but you will,' and then he nods at Big, who starts to rain down blows while I curl myself into a ball to try to protect my head and stomach.
Chapter 21
ARIC
I'm ready to fucking rip the next person who talks to me apart. Lena has been missing for three fucking days, and they act like I'm supposed to be fucking calm or some shit. When Hannah called Bruiser to tell him that some fucking cunts from the Phoenix, AZ chapter, along with some preppy blonde guy, had fucking knocked Lena out and dragged her out of the strip club, he immediately dispatched the six guys he was with to find her. Then he and Strafe had headed to the strip club to speak with Nan, and try to track where they had gone from there. So far, fucking nothing. Bruiser had then come straight to me and Dad, where we were going through club finances with Fangs in Dad's office, and broken the fucking news. So far, in three fucking days, all that's happened is that the door to Dad's office, that I put my fucking foot through, has been replaced. It had taken four guys to hold me back when I pulled my gun and wanted to go after her myself, and three hours before I had calmed down enough to be let go of, and then another two for Dad to talk me into staying here.
I fucking knew something was going on with those Arizona cunts when Lena mentioned that they had been at the strip club without paying us a courtesy call first. Of course, they came the next day, claiming that they had wanted to blow off some steam first, but I'm pretty fucking sure that's just because they knew Mom had seen them. They had a bullshit fucking story ready that they were on their way back from a run to the Mexican border, and thought that they would come over and pay the mother chapter a visit before heading home. We fucking believed them, because who fucking knew we had fucking traitors in our house. Apparently, they never fucking left San Remo three weeks ago, and now they've fucking taken Lena, with the help of Cory fucking Channing.
One of the hang-arounds holds a pool cue out to me suggesting that I play a game to distract myself. I snatch the pool cue out of the fucker's hand, snap it over my knee and launch it in the direction of the table, screaming at the cunt to get the fuck out of the clubhouse and not come back. He makes himself scarce, and Killer eyes me from the bar. He's my fucking babysitter for the day. Dad seems to think that I need to be stopped from fucking tearing this city apart brick by brick to find Lena, and maybe he's fucking right. But Killer should be out there, fucking looking for my girl, not sitting at the fucking bar, watching me like a fucking hawk.
Bruiser comes into the clubhouse, absolutely fucking covered in blood, and for once, the sight makes me fucking smile. He managed to get his hands on one of those Arizona fuckers when the man stopped at a liquor store for some beer. Stupid cunt.
'Well?' I snap at him, and he moves to the bar to lean near Killer, watching me with his icy blue eyes. Killer hands him a beer, and he pops the top and takes a swig, before answering.
'Apparently Cory Channing got into some trouble over near the border. Gambling,' he takes another swig and I fucking want to slam the bottle down his fucking throat. Get to the motherfucking point.
'He went to the Phoenix chapter to get cash to bail out his debts. Told some cock and bull story about his sister being the VP's old lady here, so Phoenix should just pony up the cash.' My eyes narrow. 'He was laughed out of the clubhouse, but then Fenton spoke to him privately, and the club was told that they had worked out a deal to help him out, since he was so close to his sister, and she's your old lady.'
'Fenton's here,' Bruiser says, and I hear Killer swear. Right at that moment the jukebox starts playing and I pull out my gun and empty a round into it until the music dies away as the machine screeches and groans into silence. 'Guy isn't sure where,' B
ruiser continues like nothing fucking happened, 'since he was really just muscle along for the ride. They want information from her. Apparently, she was supposed to come back here and be a spy, but since she fucking refused, and they couldn't afford her talking to you, they fucking jumped her.' Someone is going to fucking die. Lots of someone’s are going to fucking die. And Fenton is now at the top of my motherfucking list.
'Why did Phoenix want her to spy on us?' Killer asks, and I hear my Dad behind me.
'Good question. Bruiser?'
'Fenton wants the top job,' Bruiser snarls, tossing his empty beer can into the trashcan near the bar. 'And they reckon pumping Aric's old lady for information is the best way to get enough to sow the seeds of revolution here.' He looks at the Prez. 'I've got a list of names of the brothers that came to San Remo with Fenton.' Then he looks at me. 'Cunt's buried beside the cottage.'
'Killer,' my father takes charge. 'Run down the names, find out where they're staying here in San Remo. When you find a likely address for where they might be holding the girl, let us know.' Killer nods and disappears out the door, and Bruiser cracks another beer.
It takes two more fucking days for Killer to get an address. Two fucking days too long. Bruiser gets the phone call just as Cockerel is wiping down my chest, my new tattoo finished.
'Let's go,' Bruiser grunts at me, and I tug on my shirt and my cut and we peel out of there, heading south to a seedier area of San Remo, filled with crack dens and shitty suburban houses. Killer and Conrad are waiting for us, and Killer gestures to a house down the street. As we draw our guns and head down there, a mother pulls her child into the house next door, but they won't call the cops. This is too fucking common an occurrence for anyone to think of interfering. Strafe is sitting in a truck two more houses down, just in case Lena is in there and can't fucking ride.
Killer kicks in the door and he, Conrad and Bruiser pile through, checking out the house. We systematically move through, but it's empty. The bin full of beer cans says that it hasn't been empty for long. Once we're sure the house is clear, we make our way down the cellar stairs, and Killer kicks open the door, Bruiser takes a shot and there's a loud thump, suggesting someone big just hit the floor. When I'm through the door, I see Bruiser kneeling down, punching a large man wearing a Wild Hawks cut, who is bleeding from the thigh. But I'm not looking at him. I'm looking at my fucking girl, who is lying curled up on the floor, her face a fucking mess, blood caked through her hair. My gun falls from my nerveless fingers and I drop to my knees next to her, my hands fluttering above her, afraid to touch her in case I hurt her more.
'Fuck, angel,' I murmur, 'what have they fucking done to you?' She moves slightly, whimpering in pain, and I swallow back bile, feeling fucking sick as I realize that her left arm is broken. I can hear Killer swearing behind me, and Conrad and Bruiser are grunting as they lift the now unconscious traitor to take him with us, having tied him up. Killer comes up behind me, holding both our guns.
'Should we move her?' he whispers, and I can hear the horror in his voice.
'We have to,' I snap, 'she needs the hospital, now.' I grit my teeth and try to lift her as gently as I can, but she still cries out in pain, and the sound tears at my fucking heart.
'Hold on, angel,' I whisper to her as I cradle her to my chest, careful not to knock her broken arm. 'I'm taking you somewhere safe, and they'll make the pain go away.'
Killer is hovering behind me as I carry Lena upstairs, Bruiser and Conrad dragging our traitorous fucking prisoner behind us.
‘We need to find out what she told them,’ Killer starts as we head towards the front door and if I didn’t have Lena bleeding and broken in my arms, I’d beat the fucker until his face was significantly less pretty.
‘She didn’t fucking tell them anything!’ I snap angrily back at him, and Killer raises his hands in a “surrender” gesture.
‘I’m just saying,’ he starts, and I lose it.
‘Fucking look at what they did to her!’ I roar back at him and his eyes drop to Lena’s figure and he looks vaguely sick. ‘Does she fucking look like she was cooperating with them?’
‘No,’ Killer replies quietly, moving ahead to open the door to the truck where Strafe is sitting, keeping an eye on things.
When Strafe catches sight of Lena, as I load her into the back seat of the truck and climb in, cradling her in my arms, he also looks like he's about to be fucking sick.
'Just fucking get us to the hospital,' I snap at him, and he floors it, the truck squealing out of the street. Conrad, Bruiser, and Killer stay with the fucking traitor, waiting on a contingent of our boys to collect him and my rig. Then Bruiser is going to take that motherfucker to his little house of horrors, and I fucking know that he's going to enjoy cutting him to ribbons. Hell, maybe I'll even go a watch a bit, and enjoy the fucking show.
They come running out of the hospital with a gurney, and I know that Killer called ahead and told them to expect us. Doctor Menzies is waiting for us; he's on our payroll, so he will keep his fucking mouth shut. His mouth tightens when he sees Lena and his eyes flicker over her.
'Who did this?' he asks, moving to examine her.
'They're being taken care of,' Strafe growls, and the Doc just nods. I fucking tune them out, my eyes locked on Lena's face as I stroke her right hand. She whimpers in pain again when the Doc touches her left arm and I grit my teeth.
'You're safe at the hospital, angel,' I croon at her, 'they're trying to help you.' Then I lift her hand to my mouth and glare at the Doc. He better fucking do something soon if he wants to keep his kneecaps intact.
Chapter 22
LENA
The ground is too soft, and it smells like Aric, so I'm clearly delirious. I can hear muted voices, which is unusual, normally only Oily talks, and then Big hits. I force my eyes open, and it's too bright for my prison cell.
'She's awake,' I hear a low murmur, and there's a slight commotion. I can feel fingers softly stroking my face, and I turn towards them, blinking in the bright light. There's a curse and a rustle of blinds, and suddenly most of the light disappears, and Aric's face comes into view. As the rest of the room around him comes into focus, I realize that I'm laying in a hospital bed, and so is Aric. I mean, he's laying in mine. With me. Tammy-Lynn is sitting in a chair in the corner, and Strafe is standing over near the blinds. The door creaks open and Killer comes in, followed by a doctor in a white coat. He frowns when he sees Aric on the bed with me.
'Mr Shaw,' he sighs, 'how many times do I have to tell you,' he trails off as Aric growls under his breath, but then he presses a kiss against what feels like possibly the only unbruised part of my face, and climbs off the bed, sinking into the armchair beside it, his fingers tangling with mine.
'How are you feeling, Ms Allman?' the doctor asks, moving over to the opposite side of the bed to Aric, flashing his light into my eyes and doing all the usual checks. He lifts my left hand and I wince. Looking down, I can see that it's in a cast.
I flinch, remembering when Big stood on it and it broke, and Aric's eyes narrow on my expression, before he lifts my right hand to his mouth and holds it there. I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, and I shiver, which causes the doctor to frown.
'I'm okay,' I croak, and the doctor hands me a cup full of ice chips.
'You're throat is quite dry,' he tells me, 'so suck on these, and once you've finished the cup, if your stomach is feeling okay, you can have some actual water.' I nod slowly, reaching for the cup and wince again, and Aric drops my hand and takes the cup from the doctor, helping me put an ice cube in my mouth. The cold burns the inside of my mouth, but it feels so good that I close my eyes and savor the feeling. I feel Aric stand up, and I can hear him and Tammy-Lynn talking to the doctor, before the door opens and closes again, and I feel Aric sliding back into the bed with me, carefully tucking me up against him, trying not to jar me or hurt me. He presses a kiss to my ear.
'I'm so, so sorry, Lena,' he murmurs, too low for a
nyone else in the room to hear. They're all looking away anyway, trying to give us some semblance of privacy.
'It's not your fault,' I croak back, laying my head against his shoulder. 'It was Cory,' I whisper, feeling the tears pricking at my eyes.
'I know,' Aric strokes my hair. 'I'm going to kill him for you.' Probably not the most romantic words ever spoken, but right now, I don't think I've ever heard anything sweeter.
I get to savor the feeling of laying in Aric’s arms in the hospital bed for about half an hour, reveling in the sweet nothings he murmurs into my ear and the soft way he strokes my hair. Then he starts and reluctantly climbs off the bed, sinking into the chair beside it, his fingers tangling with mine again as he raises my hand to his mouth.
When Aric moves, I glance over at the door, expecting to see the doctor, since he made Aric get off my bed last time. But it’s not the doctor standing there, it’s Aric’s father, Holton Shaw, the club President. The door swings shut behind him and he slowly walks towards the bed, his eyes tightening as they roam over me, lingering on my face and my broken arm. When they land on Aric’s face, and my hand that Aric is holding to his mouth, his lips tighten as well.
Holton Shaw comes to a stop beside my bed, across from Aric, and he folds his arms over his chest, frowning down at me.
‘Lena,’ he nods to me, and I just blink up at him, glad that the ice and the small cup of water I was allowed have soothed my throat and made my voice much less croaky. ‘I’m glad you’re okay.’ I nod slightly, but don’t say anything else, as I’m sure this isn’t just a social visit, especially the way that Aric is glaring at his father like he wishes the ground would open up and swallow Holton whole.
‘Who took you?’
I study Holton for a moment, drawing strength from the feeling of Aric’s warm breath on my hand, and then nod again.
‘My stepbrother,’ I whisper. ‘And some men from the Phoenix club.’ Holton nods after a beat.