Havoc- Reapers MC Boxset

by Elizabeth Knox

  “I’m on my way back now. What’s up?” I walk out of the club entrance, through the hotel lobby and head out to the parking garage. She hasn’t responded to me as I slide my cut back on and prepare to ride back to the clubhouse. “Amara?” I repeat her name, hoping that’ll bring her out of it.

  “Just g-get back here.” On a hiccup, she hangs up the phone. If I know anything, it’s that something isn’t right.

  Even though we both may have done some dirty shit to one another, I still care about her, even if I don’t want to care. I make the pavement my bitch and tear outta the city.

  As soon as I roll down the driveway of the club I see that it’s packed. Bike’s are flooding the area. I wonder if Fist decided to make a visit, but my eyes land on Roman’s bike. I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I won’t say I hate the man, because hate isn’t the proper word for it. It fucking sucks when your Prez is someone who you can’t respect, because you know about the skeletons in his closet.

  I roll up to the clubhouse, trying to find a parking spot for my bike. Under my breath, I mumble “What the fuck is going on?”

  From the corner of my eye, I see the light in Amara’s trailer turn on. I stop going where I’m headed and approach her place instead. There won’t be any knocking, none whatso-ever. I place my hand on the knob and turn, going straight inside. She’s sitting on her couch with an ice pack on her cheek.

  She peers up at me with a somber look dragged across her face. “Bet you’re not going to ask what happened. I’m sure you see he’s here.”

  I nod once. “Been drinkin’?” I look around her place, not being able to focus on her condition right now. It’s taking everything inside of me to not rip out her door and go fuck her father up.

  “Oh, yes. But that’s not the best part.”

  I don’t say a word, but instead wait for her to continue. “Brotherhood is no more. We just patched into the Reapers. He didn’t tell any of us it was happening, not even me. Instead, he orchestrated it with Fist behind our backs. Says he’s tired, wants to go off somewhere with my Mom and rest. That they’re old, blah, blah.”

  Jesus. I expect a lot out of Roman, but not this shit. “Is he fucking with you or something?”

  She points to her face, “Here’s my answer to that very question. Does it look like he’s fucking with us, Widow?” Her lip curls up and I know her too well. She’s trying to hold back the tears, to not let everything come bursting out of her. It’s crazy to me how she went from such a naïve woman to one who doesn’t take shit from anybody, but when it comes to her father…well, that’s a different story.

  “Fist decided that Damon will take over the entire Vegas charter. I’ll be his VP as of tonight.” I swallow as she tells me what’s been decided. This has to burn her badly. Her and Damon’s relationship is complicated at best. Truthfully, I’ve never witnessed siblings communicate in the way that these two do. It’s damming, and odd.

  “Where’s your father going?” I ask, wanting to make sure he’ll be far away from us all.

  “Fuck if I know. Hopefully Australia. I want him as far away from me as possible.”

  “Understandable. What’s happening with the Brotherhood charter out in Utah?”

  She cocks an eyebrow, “You mean the Reapers charter?” I nod.

  “Fist is overseeing it for now, but we all know that’ll change. He has to pick who’s worthy.”

  “So, your Pops isn’t our Prez anymore?” I ask, a thought running through my mind.

  Rolling her eyes, she replies. “No, Widow. He isn’t.”

  I smirk at Amara and walk right out of her trailer. Shit is about to get really good in about two minutes. Each step I take is full of anger. A rage that has been festering inside my body for years, and let me tell you. I can’t fucking wait to unleash it. For far too long he’s gotten away with his shit, and today that ends.

  I open the door to the club and immediately spot Roman. He’s standing a few feet away from Chaz, lookin’ like they’re chatting it up. I knew walking in here that he wouldn’t be close to Damon. If you think Amara and her father have an odd relationship, you should see those two. They hate each other’s fuckin’ guts.

  “Ah! Widow!” Roman’s face is red, hinting at the fact that he’s been drinking a fuckton. His head is gonna hurt tomorrow, and it sure as hell won’t be from his hangover.

  I slide my hands into my pockets and discreetly put on my brass knuckles. It may be playing dirty, but who the fuck cares. I’m here to send a message, and it’ll be a clear one at that.

  I pull my right fist back quickly and give him an uppercut to the jaw, catching him off guard. Before he realizes what’s happening, I hit him with my left and then my right. It amazes me how no one has stopped me yet. I see Chaz staring me down, contemplating getting in the middle of it. “Ah-ah. Don’t take another step unless you want a taste of this. Roman’s getting what he deserves, brother.”

  “What the fuck is happening!?” Damon roars. Roman picks up his fist as he wobbles to the right and I slam my fist back into him.

  “I’m just here to be your Pop’s own personal form of karma.”

  “Care to explain,” Damon mutters, I hear his footsteps approaching me as the room goes silent. I take a quick look at Roman and see he’s far too fucked up to even put up a good fight.

  “Did you know your good ol’ Pops uses Amara as a punching bag anytime he gets drunk? He’s been doing it for years, Damon. For fuckin’ years I had to stand by and be there and not interfere. He’s no longer my Prez, so I don’t give a fuck what happens to me. I give a fuck about what happens to her, though, even with everything that happened.

  She’s not ever gonna feel unsafe around the one man that was always supposed to protect her. Instead, he hurt her the most outta everyone.” I don’t mean to make a speech about it all, but it’s what happened.

  I see every single brother’s opinion of Roman change right before my eyes. No longer is he the fearless MC Prez that most of us respected. Now he’s despicable to us.

  “I think it’s time someone takes out the trash,” Damon speaks up, looking to the brothers, but he turns to his father and in the most sinister tone I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth, he speaks. “Don’t you ever show your face here again or I will kill you. I’ve had it with men like you harming the women I care about. Drunk or not. There’s no excuse.”

  Chapter 5

  “YOU’RE NOT SOMETHING I COULD EVER LEARN TO JUST GET OVER. YOU’RE SOMETHING I HAVE TO LIVE WITH. WITHOUT YOU.”

  -S. STEPP

  Rebel

  I woke up with the oddest feeling this morning. I tried to put my finger on it, but I just couldn’t. I don’t know why I get these weird feelings every now and again, almost like it’s a warning that something bad is going to happen. A nauseous feeling always washes over me and I just know, but at the same time I don’t know. How much of a mindfuck is that?

  “Mommy!” I turn around to see Zoe smiling wide. She has Bubbles leash in her hand. I already know what she’s going to ask.

  “Go ahead and take her on a walk. You know the rules.” “To the stop sign and back!” She giggles, jumping up in

  excitement. The only reason I even let her take the dog out is because we live in a residential neighborhood. A gated community at that. I don’t have to worry about any creepers living here because I pay for that reassurance.

  I watch her go up to Bubbles and hook the leash around the loop on her collar, and see the two of them head out the front door. Turning, I go back to the counter and continue to make the yogurt and fruit parfaits that I’m making for Zoe and I. If Bubbles is lucky, she might even get a little bit of vanilla yogurt and some blueberries. I hate admitting it, but I spoil that little ratty dog to death.

  I find myself getting stuck in my own head for a few minutes, thinking about Nikolai and what he said to me. The man is insanely infuriating, stubborn as hell, and I can’t forget about his arrogance. Even with all of that, I
don’t know how I’m still attracted to him. I want to think it’s just the accent, but I know it’s more than that. It’s the way I catch him looking at me whenever we’re in a room together, how he just stares at me like I’m a piece of art.

  Suddenly, I hear Zoe scream. It’s so loud and everything in my world goes black. I stop what I’m doing and run out the door and see her kneeling in the street. Jesus. Did someone hit my child? How is she in the middle of the road? More importantly, why is she there? My eyes move over the area and I spot Bubble’s leash at the end of our walkway.

  Fuck.

  No.

  The possibility runs through my mind of what could’ve happened, and as I see the soft little white fur, I know that I’m right. I don’t want to be right in this moment. I rush over to Zoe and see her holding Bubble’s small, lifeless body. Blood is everywhere and I know there’s no point in trying to do anything. One look at Bubble’s and I know she’s gone. If her body doesn’t tell me that, her eyes sure do.

  “Mo-mmy,” Zoe hiccups and I pull my baby into my

  arms. Let me correct myself, I pull both of my babies into my arms. Bubbles was just three years old, a puppy that Zoe begged me for. I didn’t want to do it, to get an animal and have yet another mouth to feed. Not to mention another responsibility, but now I can’t imagine my life without this little rat.

  I kiss the top of Zoe’s head. “I’m so sorry baby. Bubbles is at rainbow bridge now,” I murmur, trying to not let my voice choke up. I can’t bear to say these words, especially not now when I didn’t want Zoe to learn about death for a long time. I know it’s unavoidable, but no little girl wants to lose her puppy.

  “I was just taking her for a w-walk … s-she slip-ped out of her c-collar.” Zoe sobs, telling me the story of what happened. I want to smack myself for not getting that fenced in back yard. You can bet your ass I’m going to now.

  I know that there is nothing I can say at this moment to make my little girl feel any better. Instead, this is going to be a long few days filled with nothing but grief. I just need to be grateful for the fact we had Bubbles in our life, and that she was with us for as long as we did.

  “I know, baby. I know. It wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?” I say to her and watch more tears flow down her cheeks.

  “It was his fault …” She points to the new dick bag neighbor that I already didn’t like in the least bit. He’s just moved to the house on the corner and he’s insanely loud. My bet is that he was born into money and that’s how he got in here.

  I cock my head at Zoe, “The new guy?”

  She nods once, looking down to Bubbles in her arms. “Okay, honey.” I feel the warmth rising behind my eyes

  as they start to water. “I need you to be a strong girl and go in the house and get Bubbles favorite blanket. Can you do that for me? Mommy has to go have an adult conversation with that guy.”

  Zoe nods her head, “I love you m-mommy.”

  I pull her in and squeeze her tight, kissing her cheek and release her. This time, I make sure to watch as she gets in the house. Now is my chance, I peer over and see dick bag is in his garage so I charge over, sliding my hands in my jean pockets.

  I search for what I think I have, but need to double check. Once upon a time, there was a man who always told me to carry these with me. Since then, I’ve never left without them.

  “Hey, Pinkie.”

  “Did you murder my fucking dog?” I snarl out, sliding my hands through the holes of the concealed weapon I have in my pocket.

  “Dog ran out in the middle of the road, right in front of me. Not my fault your bratty little kid couldn’t keep her on the leash.”

  I thought about keeping my composure and handling this like a respectful mother would. But, pieces of shit don’t deserve my respect. They only deserve an ass whoppin’. I approach him, masking my face and plaster a somber look on my face. This move has worked before, and I know it’ll sure, as fuck work right now too. Men always love to underesti-mate a short woman, but this dick will be regretting it soon.

  I bring my knee up straight into his balls when I get close enough, pull both my hands from my jean pockets and rock my fists into his face. He lets out a yelp and I stare down at my brass knuckles, smiling.

  I repeat the process, hitting him a few more times in the face and give him a good couple of kicks in the ribs. “If I ever see you drive on this street ever again, I will personally make

  your life a living hell. One night, you’re going to wake up to me hovering over you with your severed cock in my hand. That’s how good I am, asshole.” I hiss, staring in his eyes the entire time to make sure he got the message.

  He nods once and I step away, spotting a baseball bat in the corner. I walk right up to it and grab it, swinging the motherfucker back, I knock out the headlights on his brand new Ford Mustang. I bring the bat back one more time and make sure to aim for his windshield. With the advancements glass has these days, it doesn’t do much except crack it, but I’m sure my message is understood.

  “You made my daughter cry, asshole. There’s one thing you never do, and that’s fuck with my family.”

  Chapter 6

  YOU KINDA OWE IT TO YOURSELF TO DO ALL THE THINGS YOU DREAMED

  -ANONYMOUS

  Rebel

  “How is Zoe holding up?” Harlow pulls me out of my own head as I stare at my phone. She’s honestly one of my only friends here, but that’s because all of these bitches are catty. They don’t like the fact that Nikolai wants to spend a decent bit of time with me, but they should take their problem up with him.

  I take in a deep breath and sigh. “She’s doing okay. It’s only been three days and every night she cries herself to sleep. It breaks my fucking heart, girl. Her best friend died.”

  “Yeah, but she’ll be okay. Zoe is strong, just like her momma.” Harlow wraps her arm around me and pulls me into a half hug.

  “You’re just saying that cause you like me.” “What’s your point exactly?”

  “Ah, forget it.” I grumble out, rolling my eyes at her. I’ve known Harlow for a little bit now and this girl cracks me up. She doesn’t talk about her personal life very often, or if I’m being specific, she doesn’t talk about her past. That just means she has secrets, but so do I. My past isn’t anything fun to talk about anyway. It’s ridiculously full of drama if I’m honest. She can probably relate to that, especially because she looks like a cute little Disney princess. “Is your client list treating you better now?” I ask because I’m curious, Harlow has had some interesting clients in the past.

  I don’t know how they got passed the screening process being as creepy as they are, but they did. “It’s not going so bad. I have a few ladies on my list now, which is nice, they treat me better than the men do. Gia told me that we have a new client moving to the area in a couple of weeks and she gave me her name. I looked her up online and not to be weird or anything, but she looks a lot like you. Minus the pink hair, of course.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?” No soon as I finish asking my question Harlow has yanked out her phone and has pulled up an online account for a woman named Carmen. Immedi-ately, I see the resemblance. Her skin is a little darker than mine, and she has ashy blonde hair. It looks just like mine before I dyed it.

  Harlow scrolls through an array of photographs that Carmen must have posted. “She kinda looks like your twin.”

  “Obviously, the evil one.” I mutter, looking at every single photograph. With each one I see, the more I see a resemblance. The more that I tell myself that this is just a coincidence. My family situation growing up was compli-cated. I vaguely remember my mother, and then was put in the foster care system by the time I was eight. I’d see my grandfather from time to time and now I remember how he told me about my twin sister. He even mentioned another sister, a younger one to be exact, but I never thought too much into it. He had dementia, so I thought he had lost his damn mind … but what if he didn’t?

  Harlow scrolls th
rough more and I take her phone straight from her hand, putting my fingers over Carmen’s hair. When I look at her face, it doesn’t look like I’m staring at another person. It looks like I’m staring in the mirror.

  “Okay, so now that we’ve discovered my long lost sister, what is it you wanted to tell me about?”

  “Oh, nothing really I guess. This … Carmen. She wants me to be somewhat exclusive to her. That’s what she’s asked Gia at least.”

  I raise my eyebrows, hearing what Harlow has just said. When a client wants you all to themselves, it means that they need you for something important. Now I’m wondering what exactly this is.

  “Did you look at her application?”

  She rises from her seat and walks over to the small bar we have on this level of the high rise. “I mean, I’ve seen parts of it, but Gia is being very secretive about what it is that’s required of me. I’ve never been paired with anyone where I was missing pertinent information about them. It seems to me like Carmen doesn’t want to share, so I’ve been social media stalking her.”

  “Private people love it when strangers go digging for information.” I sarcastically say to her, showing her I’m judging the shit out of her right now. Harlow knows the rules, one of the most important being, not to invade the client’s privacy.

  “I don’t like having things hid from me. We’re supposed to trust that we’re safe when we’re with a client. How are we supposed to know if we’re safe unless we learn who they are?”

  “You are playing with fire, girl.”

  Harlow’s face turns red, showing me that she’s getting angry. “I could say the same about you and Nikolai.”

  “Whoa. What does Nikolai have to do with anything?”

  “Is that a joke? Nikolai wants to date you. The man spends his dates with me telling me how much he does, that he wants to have you as his girl, Rebel. The man is in total awe of you and you keep him strung along for something that will never happen. You’re still hung up on that one ex who ripped your heart out.”