Breaker: Indignant Few MC Book 2

by Voss, Deja

  Couldn’t help but imagine her sitting there on the edge, leaning back, smiling up at me, all the sadness in her replaced with the old Hannah I used to know. The way her face lit up when she saw me. The way she laughed at my jokes. The way she made me feel steady.

  The way she made me feel… hard?

  Fuck me, I muttered. That’s not how this was supposed to go. I’m not some sick fucker looking to bang some brainwashed broad. I’m supposed to help her. I tried to erase that vision of her perfect lips wrapped around my dick, or the way her tits looked free from that potato sack of a dress, but it just wasn’t happening. It was just my natural state. I pictured most women like that, but something about her was just different.

  I stormed down the hallway, throwing open the door to the guest room. The place was trashed, garbage can overflowing with beer cans and used rubbers, and I swore I could see the crabs snapping their claws at me on the comforter from across the room. I walked out into the bar to grab some garbage bags so I could get to work. I’d let her pick which room she wanted to stay in, and I’d take the other one.

  Unless maybe… I mean… only if she suggested it obviously…

  I needed to quit that shit right now.

  I began picking trash up off the floor of the spare room, shoving it in the bag, when Reena, Colt and Athena’s mother, poked her head in the doorway.

  “What are you doing, love?” she asked. Reena was kind of our house mother. She was an old lady before I was even born, and after her husband passed, she stuck around to keep an eye on us, keep us fed, make sure we weren’t getting into too much bad shit. She’d really toned her life down since Athena got back, and I rarely ever saw her hanging around the bar at night anymore. She still dressed like a fucking siren though. That red corset top she had on put most twenty somethings to shame.

  “Gotta get this place cleaned up for Hannah,” I said. “Gotta keep her comfy til we figure out what we’re gonna do with her.”

  “That’s thoughtful of you,” she said. She began to strip the bed cautiously, only pinching the comforter around the corners. “You really care about this chick?”

  “I dunno.” I took a rag and wiped down the top of the dresser, crusty with ashes and dried up beer. I guess I cared about her. I wanted to help her. I didn’t want to see her get hurt. That was only natural, though. Any good man would be happy to do the same.

  “Is she pretty?” she asked, grabbing the vacuum from the closet.

  “Well, yeah. But so are you,” I said, winking at her. “Don’t mean nothing.”

  “You’ve always been a heartbreaker.” She patted my ass, and I laughed. I’d never try shit with Reena, even though I knew it’d probably send Colt over the edge. “I just worry, I mean, you bring an innocent girl like that around here, who knows what could happen to her.”

  “Don’t say shit like that. I ain’t letting nothing happen to her. She’s been through enough.”

  “You do care about her,” she teased, her voice all singsong like.

  “She’s too good for any of these dogs. Myself included. Now what do you think I should do next?” All the trash was picked up, the room was dusted, but it still looked like a dump and smelled worse than the garbage trucks.

  “Probably light it on fire,” she said with a long laugh. “This room has seen some shit. If these walls could talk, they’d probably be begging to be put out of their misery. I’ll go grab some fresh sheets.”

  “What about like clothes and stuff?” I asked. “You think you can sew her some dresses?”

  “I’m sorry babe, I know you think I know everything, but sewing traditional Amish dresses is way out of my league. I’m sure you’ll figure something out. I’ll ask the girls if they have anything extra.”

  I started feeling anxious again. Life here would be a huge change for her. Could I make her feel comfortable? Holy shit, I was using the rules, and I never intended them to be for her. They were just a joke, and here I was reverting to the only thing I knew. I’d just have to get her here. Maybe I could take her shopping. Let her pick out whatever she wanted. Maybe she enjoyed wearing those dresses. I tried to wipe the image from my brain of her in a pair of tight black jeans and one of those striped shirts that tied around the belly button, just a little peek-a-boo tease, and I had to cover my junk for fear Reena’d think I was some kind of perv.

  Who was I kidding? She already knew I was some kind of perv.

  Hannah’s life was fixing to change in a huge way, and for some reason, it felt like mine was, too. It felt like I was on the verge of something I’d never felt before. Something I never let myself have.

  “Mama, get outta here,” Colt said to Reena, looming in the doorway looking like he was about to rip someone’s face off.

  “We weren’t doing anything,” I said with a shrug.

  “What the fuck dude? You better not be.” Reena just laughed and shook her head, grabbing the laundry basket.

  “Nice to see you too, baby.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss Colt on the cheek and disappeared down the hall.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “You alright?”

  He pulled the bedroom door closed behind him. “I need you to look at something for me. Found this in Zelda’s purse.” Estranged was one way to describe Colt and Zelda’s relationship. To me it was more just really fucking strange. They were still married, made it clear to anyone who asked, but Colt did whoever he wanted, and she apparently did whatever she wanted, including heroin if this bag was any indication.

  “It’s H,” I said, before he even put it in my hand. I’d seen it a million times before. Didn’t like touching it though. Too close to home.

  “Yeah, but look,” he said, flipping the little stamp bag over. “What the fuck is this shit?”

  Dealers usually marked bags as a sales gimmick. People hear about Knockout or Cobain or Gucci and they can ask for it by name. Sad truth was, the more folks OD-ing on a particular kind, the more the demand goes up. Just a fucked up game and everybody playing it is a victim, a game I knew all too well.

  The mark on this bag was exceptionally disturbing, though. It was our patch, our logo, I.F. You Survive written in tiny letters below. “Ain’t nobody think we’re that fucking dumb,” I muttered, pressing it back into his hand. “Everybody in this town knows we don’t fuck with drugs. Everybody in this town knows even if we did, we wouldn’t be messing with stamp bags. Shit.”

  “That’s what I figured. Still don’t mean it can’t blow back on us,” he said. “You got any way to figure out where this came from?” I still had connections in the game, even though I didn’t spend a lot of time with anybody from my past. Kid was VP of the Dead Ringers now, but I knew he still had men on the street.

  “What did Zelda say?”

  “She got it from a guy.”

  “You think she knows anything?” I asked.

  “I think her ass is going to rehab here pretty quick. I can look past a lot of shit, but this is getting out of control.”

  “I’ll make some calls,” I said.

  “Like now?” he asked, looking at an imaginary watch on his wrist. “We don’t need this kind of heat.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving him off. I didn’t feel like dealing with this shit, but he was right. The Indignant Few MC laid low. We kept our noses clean. It was the only way we kept the law off our asses, but we were one OD with our brand stamped all over it away from a RICO case. “Let me see what Kid’s got to say.”

  He handed the bag back to me and I felt my stomach lurch. I couldn’t even stand the sight of the stuff anymore, let alone having it in my possession. Brought back all the memories of what this shit did to my mama. That terrible night. I’d never get over it.

  “Good deal my man,” he said. “Then after that we can have a welcome to the club party for your new Amish bitch. How many shots you think before she’s dancing on the bar with her titties out?”

  “Don’t even go there,” I growled. Damn, that came out a lot more
aggressive than I intended. “She don’t need wrapped up in this bullshit. We will probably have to disappear her. Find her a new place, new identity, all that stuff. I’m just bringing her here til I can talk to somebody.”

  “Sure,” Colt said, pursing his lips. I could say it out loud as many times as I wanted, but the truth was, I didn’t want to send Hannah off. I needed her. My constant. My rock. I just wasn’t ready to let on the way I felt about her, mostly because it went against everything I was known for. Sure as shit didn’t want Colt knowing I caught feelings for her. “You know I see right through that shit, Breaker. You ain’t gonna disappear her.”

  I ignored him, starting up the vacuum cleaner. The way it crunched across the carpet was straight up disgusting. There was no way I could keep a girl like Hannah here. She was so much better than that.

  “I know you like her. Otherwise you would’ve fucked her a long time ago,” he shouted over the crunching hum. “Just like I’m gonna the second you let your guard down.”

  I shut off the vacuum cleaner and charged towards him, holding my fist up. He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, laughing like a hyena.

  “I’m kidding,” he said. “But now you know how it feels. I’ve been waiting a long time to get that satisfaction. Now put your fist down and get back to your chores, pretty boy.”

  I rolled my eyes at him and chuckled. He knew I wasn’t just a pretty boy. He’d seen me in action. He also knew I’d never lay hands on him. I never laid hands on anybody I didn’t want to see in a ditch. Once I got started, there wasn’t much that could hold me back. Still, I knew the way I felt when he talked about Hannah like that was enough to wake up that demon. He knew it too. This was not good.

  “Call Kid, please,” he said, slamming the door behind him. I thumbed the baggie in my pocket, reality hitting me I probably would have to disappear her. She was too pure for this life. Bitches like her had no business messing with guys like me. The only thing I could do in the meantime was make her feel safe. Make her feel safe til I could find someone worthy of those pretty blue eyes. Someone that’d never make her cry again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hannah:

  I was supposed to be doing my Nightlies, but I couldn’t stop pacing around the bedroom. Racheal watched in amusement, sitting cross-legged on her bed, a pile of make-up laid out in front of her. My bruises ached with every step I took, but I felt like I was floating above my body, I felt like I was high; I embraced the pain, every twinge making me feel stronger and stronger.

  “You’re acting like a fucking weirdo,” she muttered, dabbing some cream under her eyes. “Even for you. You keep flapping around like that, you might just fly away.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just thinking. Praying, I guess.”

  “Well, the way you’re stomping around like a horse, I’m sure God can hear ya.”

  I was trying to dredge up the courage to tell her I wanted to go with her tonight. She had no idea about the arrangement, and I needed to keep it that way. I just didn’t know how to ask her without tipping her off. I wasn’t a great liar thanks to my upbringing.

  “Can you do my make-up?” I asked. She looked up at me like I’d just grown a horn from my forehead. “I just want to know what it feels like.” I sat down on the bed next to her and ran my finger over the tubes of sparkly red stuff, the little compacts of powder. I thought about how when I made my escape, maybe I’d start wearing this stuff myself. I didn’t know the first thing about what to do, only what I’d witnessed her doing.

  “Well, yeah,” she said. “I always thought you’d look amazing with some brown eyeliner. It’d really make your baby blues pop.”

  She squirted out some beige goop onto the back of her hand and dabbed a sponge in it. She began to pat it all over my face as I sat before her, my heart racing. “I… I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other day. About how I need to stop being such a wet sock. You’re right, Racheal. I want to learn to be more like you. I don’t want to be a burden anymore.”

  She took a brush and swooshed it across some powder, dusting it over my face. “You don’t need to be more like me, Hannah. Your destiny is already sealed.”

  “Yes, but I want to be able to please Jacob.” I had to fight back the nasty way those words tasted. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. I know he’s been with English women. I want to make sure he only wants me.”

  She held my chin in her hand and smiled, a glimmer in her eye. “You’re smarter than I thought, sister.” I flinched as she came at my eyeball with the long pointy crayon, and she giggled. “It is true, though. It might look like the men run the world around here, but once you learn how to use what you have between your legs, there’s nothing you can’t make em do.”

  I knew she was right on some level, but she didn’t understand how Jacob worked. Pleasing him was as simple as being revolted by him. I had that down to a science.

  “Oh my God, you look like a queen,” she cooed. “Much better already.”

  I felt my skin blushing, and when she held up the compact to my face so I could get a look at the work she’d done, I almost didn’t recognize the girl looking back. Maybe Hannah Schmucker was a servant of the church, too meek to stand up for herself, always just lying on her back and taking it, but this woman looking back was hot stuff. I wondered if there was something buried deep inside of me waiting to come out, or if like and actor caked in stage make-up, I was just playing a game, telling a story. This make-up wasn’t the real me, right?

  “Where are you going tonight?” I asked her.

  “I have a date,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “You know that biker guy, Rosey?”

  “Do you love him?” I asked.

  She giggled as she pulled my hair out of its braid, running her fingers through it, brushing my bangs over my eye.

  “Sister, I don’t love anyone but myself. I do love the size of his wallet, though.”

  “So, you are like a concubine?”

  “I would be offended if that wasn’t coming from someone so stupid,” she said. “You really do not understand how any of this works. I don’t have sex for money. I have sex because I like to party. The only way I can keep doing what I like to do is if I bring money in for the church. I keep the coffers full, I don’t have to follow all these dumb rules you live by.”

  She jumped off the bed, pulling a laundry sack out from underneath. She dumped her street clothes out on the bed and began shuffling through the piles.

  “It’s nothing like being a concubine,” she said, as if the idea offended her. “It’s like being a missionary. I make these men think I’m so into them. I make them think I’m some innocent little thing who needs a real man in her life. I show them a good time, wait for them to fall asleep, then I steal their stuff. For the church.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I asked. She tossed a piece of black fabric over her shoulder and held up a pair of underwear that looked like some sort of elastic torture device.

  “Because I’m tired of you judging me. You do things your way, I do things my way. We’re both just trying to survive, right?”

  She reached under her pillow and pulled out a silver flask, unscrewing the top. She threw back a sip, cringing and shaking her head. As she handed it to me, I looked up at her with uncertainty. I took it from her hand and held it under my nose, the pungent scent of burning making me gag.

  “Don’t smell it, goofy,” she said, nodding at me. I had no idea how this concoction would make me feel. I needed to keep my wits about me if I was going to execute my plan, but I needed her to think I was being sincere. I put it to my lips and took the tiniest sip possible, coughing the second it hit my tongue.

  “That’s just nasty,” I said, wiping my tongue off with my hands. She cracked up, and began to strip out of her nightclothes, stepping into the slinky black dress. I took another sip, this one not tasting any better. “I want to go with you tonight.”

  “Are yo
u seriously drunk already?”

  “I promise I won’t be a burden. I just want to see what it feels like. To be like you. Just for one night, Racheal.”

  “There is no way in hell Jacob would go for that. You are his.”

  “Then we don’t tell Jacob,” I said. I braced myself for her reaction. Even though I was feeling a little different thanks to my first soiree into alcohol, I was in a right enough mind to know that I was asking her to commit the ultimate sin. If she told on me, I would probably be punished in ways I couldn’t imagine. “Think about it, Racheal. It’d be a win win. I’ll learn how to do what you do. You know how jealous I am of you.”

  I threw that last bit in because I knew her ego was definitely much bigger than her capacity for common sense. I knew flattery was the best way to get her attention.

  “You’re nuts,” she said. “but I kind of like it.”

  She finished getting ready, and I barely recognized her by the time she finished running what seemed like a hundred different products through her blonde hair. “I don’t have anything for you to wear,” she said.

  “Yeah, you’re much trimmer than I am,” I said. “I’ll just have to wear what I normally wear.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Men are fucking weird. Some of them like that whole deal,” she said, staring me up and down. “Just don’t embarrass me. Don’t act like a weirdo. Lay low and follow my lead.”

  She had no idea what men were into. She had no idea what would actually happen tonight. I was getting out of this place. She thought she was going to play her game, but in all actuality she was the one getting played.

  “You ready?” she asked, sliding the window up so quietly, expertly, like she’d done every night for as long as I could remember. I smoothed my quilt over my bed, the blanket that had been with me since I was a child. For a second, I felt sentimental. This would be the last time I ever set foot in this room.