Bleed Me (Haunted Roads Book 3)

by India R. Adams

  I jerked awake in a bedroom I had never seen before, lying on what appeared to be a queen-sized bed with an abundance of white-cased pillows under my head and around me. The room was inky blue. There were no windows, and I could almost feel the walls closing in on me. It felt like a dark cave. A trap. The only light came from a lamp on a long, dark brown dresser. There was a dark blanket over my legs, which seemed to be another shade of blue. I quickly kicked it off and scrambled backward over the pillows, almost crawling up the wall behind my head. The wall touching where I had been hit had me wincing in pain. “Shit.”

  From a corner in the room, a soft female voice told me, “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’ll get Diesel.” Her little dark shadow rushed to the door. When it opened, there was loud music and a rowdy crowd of men nearby. As soon as the door shut, the sound faded to barely audible.

  After pulling my hoody over my head, I slumped back against the wall, wondering where the fuck I was. I grabbed my chest to see if I was on fire because I could still feel the heat from Delilah’s engulfed car. My fingers not moving easily had me noticing my hand was bandaged up. The gas station’s mirrored glass has done a number on me. Although I guess it was me who had done a number on it.

  The door opened, letting in light from a hallway, but closed after Diesel entered. “You’re finally awake.” He sat next to me on the bed. “Had me worried.”

  I could smell liquor on his breath and grinned. “Not that worried.” He had been drinking instead of taking me to the hospital.

  “Eh. No need for your drama. The Prez had you seen by a local doc. Besides,” he chuckled, “I can’t help it if everyone is excited to see them some el Diesel. Wanna party?”

  “Nah, I don’t think so—”

  “Great! Let’s roll.” Diesel yanked on my arm and dragged me up to my wobbly feet. The earth spun a little. Delilah would’ve had me in the ER by now. Diesel? Not-even-close. “You need some whiskey.”

  I was dragged to the door. “Umm, I’m kinda dealing with a concussion right now.”

  “Stop being a weak tit and pick your poison.”

  As soon as we reached the end of the long hallway full of closed doors and toward the loud music, I was greeted with a room full of bikers, smoke, barely dressed women, and cheers. “Hey! There he is! To the new Prospect!” I was either joining a pack of vampires or Texans that liked to avoid the sun. The expansive room had no windows, but did have monitors on the upper part of every wall. On them were multiple views of what looked to be the compound surrounding the building.

  Looking around, the walls were a light brown, once again recalling my thoughts of a cave. Parts of them even had cool looking rock. If I were a bear, this place would’ve been perfect for a long hibernation. There was soft lighting that matched the bar vibe. At the far end of the room were three pool tables and arcade machines. Pac-Man? Galaxy? These guys must be as old as Diesel. In a corner was a stripper pole that seemed to be movable. No joke. In the ceiling was a metal track that traveled to the middle of the room.

  Along the wall to my right were several huge black couches and big comfortable lounging chairs, good enough to get a sound night of rest in. Also to my right were swinging doors that looked to lead into an industrial kitchen. To the left of the doors was a long bar with enough stools for any bar’s Happy Hour. The bottom part of the bar had the same rocks as some of the walls. Past the bar, to the left, was another hallway. Beyond the hallway entrance was a jukebox.

  A fierce-looking man with an eye patch approached with his hand out. “Never have we had a ‘Prospect’ before ever even meetin’ him. Ya better be honored, kid. I’m Dagger.”

  Feeling a little lost in some sort of alternate universe, I shook his hand. “I’m Ken—”

  As if he were the bull in a herd of elephants that he had every intention of keeping in line, his hand tightened on mine and his arm curled to yank me to him. “Nope.” Our bent arms were the only thing separating us as he spoke in my ear. “You are now James Gunn Dalton.”

  Talk about ripping the band-aid off with no warning. Dagger was preparing me for my new life, and the new leader in my life. My eyes found Diesel, only to see him raise his hands as if he was no longer in charge of me.

  Air hissed from my lungs as shock tried to take over, but what that shock didn’t know is I had just met someone strong enough to take charge of me until I was strong enough to stand on my own.

  Not releasing me in the slightest, Dagger added, “I’m your VP. You do as I say. Kenny is gone. You’re now home.”

  Was it harsh? Even brutal to my senses? Maybe, but you can’t ride a roller coaster that’s only half on the tracks. It will crash and burn. I had to be secure and buckled—grounded to my new life—for it to work.

  With that, I did my best to swallow forming tears and surrendered and slowly bobbed my head while closing my eyes. I let Dagger take the lead. I may not have had much of a choice, but that was the point. The elder men in my life knew, without a doubt, if I did have a choice, I’d be runnin’ straight back to Delilah.

  “Yes, sir,” I told Dagger.

  Approvingly, he nodded while slowly releasing me. “Now, this is a very serious question.”

  My upper lip started sweating as he took a step back, staring me down. What was coming? Some sort of initiation?

  Dagger smirked. “What’s your poison, kid?”

  I almost collapsed to the floor, thankful I wasn’t going to earn an initiation biker tribal scar in front of everyone while they sang some sort of biker song from the eighties. I was clueless about the life of a one-percenter.

  Tuck and I had partied many times, but it was more like getting as drunk as we could, as fast as we could, because we were young and dumb and only had getting laid on our minds. So, my answer was, “I don’t really know.”

  The room went quiet. Like, pool sticks lingered in the air, drinks suspended in front of gaping mouths, only the music played, kind of quiet. All eyes were on me.

  Dagger, with brows lifted in question, watched me intently with his one blue eye.

  Every insecure part of me wanted to high-tail my ass out of that building, but that was a ‘Kenny’ thing to do. I was now James Gunn Dalton. So, I searched until I found what resembled a spine, then stood up straight, setting my shoulders back. “But I’m willin’ to find out.”

  Crickets…

  Oh shit.

  Suddenly, cheers broke out as if I had just promised a million dollars and a thousand beautiful strippers for all.

  In the background, Diesel smiled with pride at me as Dagger dragged me to the bar. Some supermodel-looking bartender smiled as I was forcibly plopped down on a brown leather stool. I was trying to hold my man-card, but being surrounded by a bunch of rowdy big bikers is, well, unnerving. The bombshell saw it all over my face. She winked from under her long, straight blonde hair. “What are we starting with tonight?”

  “Whiskeyyyy!” howled the bystanders as if singing to the moon.

  Blinking, due to the booming sound of male voices, I watched as the bartender thumbed over her shoulder. Behind her was a big round silver circle on the wall, about six feet wide and tall. In the center of it was a cut out of a horse with a wild mane flowing in the wind. Above the horse was the word STEEL, and under the horse read STALLIONS MC. On each side of it were smaller silver cutouts of a wolf howling.

  Questioning whether or not I was part of a pack or gang, I nodded. “Whiskey it is.”

  Another whiskey howl erupted.

  A clear shot glass was set in front of me. Inside was a beautiful brown liquid that perfectly matched Delilah’s eyes. Repeating to myself, James Gunn Dalton, I picked up the liquor and swallowed.

  After gagging—and choking due to all the friendly shoulder jostles—I realized whiskey wasn’t exactly horrible. Now, tequila and I did not become friends, which, apparently, is a sin when living so close to the Mexican border, hence all the “booing.” However, after many shots of different beverages, and with a thick
confusion settling in, there was a sweet buttery shot I was really fond of. I slurringly asked— “Wuts dish ssstuff? Eeet gooood.”

  Bikers laughed like they’d been doing all night, and Dagger explained, “It’s the Stallion Special.” I had no idea why that caused the walls to rumble with more boisterous laughter, but it did.

  My eyes were unable to focus, but I still tried. Across from me, Dagger and Diesel were now leaning their elbows on the bar next to the bartender, also laughing at me. I squinted, staring at them together. “Youuuuu may no know dis, but youuuuu twooooo wook awike.”

  “They should,” replied a new voice in the night. “They’re fucking brothers.” The man with longer blond hair slid behind the bar to join them. “Is this my new Prospect?”

  Diesel rushed in for a Mack truck of two men colliding kind of a manly hug. “Fuck! You’re here!”

  Pats on the back commenced before the man who looked to be around the same age as Diesel finally let him go. “I had to leave Arizona in a hurry since someone doesn’t know how to give a man some notice.” He then grabbed the bartender, his voice deepening in a hungry yet affectionate rumble, “Babe. Fuck.” She was up against his chest, all smiles. “Gimme,” he demanded.

  Hammered, I watched as her smiling lips pressed sensually to his. Her tongue slipped into his mouth with such seduction, I swear it was giving me a chub.

  Suddenly, I was trapped in a mean-mug stare-off with the one she was kissing. I swallowed, but couldn’t pull my eyes from his grey ones that promised… pain.

  His mouth no longer moving had the bartender confused, pulling her head back to see who he was staring at. She smacked his chest. “Stop. The kid is a buck sixty-five max, yet your boys here have been slammin’ shots down his throat like he’s entered a professional shot competition.”

  Your boys? Fuck. This is the Stallion’s President.

  Grey eyes observed the full shot sitting in front of me. The one I had been preferring because it tasted like a desert.

  Well, it was nice meeting everyone. I must prepare to die now.

  “Why is my Prospect drinking a Slippery Dick?”

  Goodbye, everyone—Wait. What?

  The place exploded in laughter!

  Possibly cross-eyed, I peered around. “Whaaaat? Youuuu guys beeeeen setting me’yup?”

  The President tenderly took the bartender’s face in his hands. “Babe. Really? You pussin’ out my new Prospect?”

  A huge smile crossed her face. “Everyone can be bought. I got five-hundred in my back pocket.”

  His head leaned back and roared his laughter. “We need to toughen him up!”

  At this very moment, I felt it best to fall off my stool.

  Bahahahaha… roared every male and female in the building.

  “What’d I miss?” asked another man as he entered through the swinging kitchen doors.

  I could only see his biker boots, of course, seeing how I was now flat on my back, trying to decide where to puke.

  The biker boots walked toward me. Then stopped. A man that was more my height and a little younger, with dark, closely shaved hair, squatted next to me. My stomach rolled as he held up his hand. “Kid, how many fingers d’ya see?”

  Bluahhhhhh… went my vomit.

  Over all the laughter… “Jesus. Christ,” sneered the man as he stared at his now soaked boots.

  Yep. There’s good.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Art’s voice traveled into my head, pounding through the skull trying to contain my brain. “Here’s some water and Advil.” My sandpaper eyes refused to open, nor could I lift my head. “Puking on your Sergeant at Arms wasn’t your slickest move. Get up. Now you pay.”

  “Sergeant in what? Pay?” croaked my desert-dry vocal cords. “I don’t have money.”

  “Don’t need cash for this payment.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “Damn. How tore up were you? I got laid by a bunny, then was partying with you, dipshit.”

  Rolling over, I winced for a few reasons. Pain being one of them, but I was hungover as hell and also envisioning Art fucking a rabbit. “A bunny? What are you talking about?”

  He chuckled. “You know. Tail. ‘Fucks like a rabbit’. Club girl.”

  I rolled to the side of the bed, hung my head over the edge, and puked.

  “Dude! Crawl to the bathroom! You’re fuckin’ up your room!”

  Wiping my mouth, I peered around. “I already have my own room?” I was back in the room I had woken in the night before.

  His cell vibrated in his pocket. “Hello? What? Your brother didn’t tell you?”

  Even through the nausea, my body froze. Viola.

  “No. We’re in Austin… Is—” Art stopped when eyeing me. He put his back to me as if that would stop me from hearing him whisper, “—she okay?”

  My eyes closed so I could continue with my new mantra. I am James Gunn Dalton. I am James Gunn Dalton. I took a deep breath and pushed forward…

  In my bathroom, I looked around at the ivory tile and walls. The bathroom was considerably nicer than the dark bedroom. There were clean white towels folded on the counter and a little travel set of supplies like a toothbrush and razor. I threw the razor in the trash. I was to grow a beard. The mirror reflection showed I was already well on my way. My unbandaged hand rubbed at the scruff I’d never let grow out before. At least it was helping cover the bruises. The thought of why I deserved them, and the overdose of alcohol, had me rushing to the toilet and purging some more.

  After brushing my teeth, I stared at the shower. It was time to rinse away my past.

  Stripping out of the clothes Art had given me felt so… wrong. It was as if I was removing my last memories of a life I had treasured. One I would never get back.

  Luckily, the hot water had me relaxing and breathing easier. There were full bottles of shampoo and soap. There was even a loofa thing to scrub with. Delilah used to have one just like—

  I slammed my hands over my face. I had to stop thinking of her!

  The wet bandage now touching my face annoyed my exposed nerves to the point I ripped it off in haste and threw it out of the shower, not caring where it landed.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  “What?” I grumbled at Art, who would soon be driving back to a little town that I was already missing.

  “I’m sorry,” said the gentle voice I heard the night prior when I woke in my room. Through the door, she told me, “I have some fresh clothes for you.”

  “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  “Can I come in?”

  Checking the curtain was properly closed, I answered, “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

  Through the curtain, I watched her petite shadow set folded clothes on the counter. She bent over and grabbed my dirty ones.

  “No,” I insisted, “I can clean up after myself.”

  She also tossed my wet bandage in the trash can. “It’s my job. Each girl has certain members they take care of. You’re one of mine. I’ll wash these.” She walked toward the shower. “If you ever need anything… just let me know.”

  I cringed as she came even closer, “I’m good. Thanks,” hoping she’d just leave, but delicate fingers with blue nail polish hooked around the edge of the curtain as if preparing to open it. I lowered my voice in warning, “I said I’m good.”

  After a jolt of rejection, her fingers slipped away. “Got it.”

  The bathroom door shut.

  By the time I washed up and got dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that fit as if meant for me, I walked into my empty bedroom. My bed was made, pillows fluffed, and puke cleaned up. On one of the nightstands, next to the Advil and water Art had brought me, there was a can of Canada Dry ginger ale. My shoulders sulked. I instantly felt like an asshole. She was trying to be nice, and I had basically denied her for something she probably thought was part of her job, as twisted as that sounded.

  I rushed to the hallway to thank her but only found Art and
Diesel whispering. As soon as they saw me, they stopped. My chest tightened. “What? Is it Delilah? What’s wrong?”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Diesel scuffed his biker boots toward me along the wood floor hallway. “Art and I gotta go home.”

  I was about to be left alone with a bunch of strangers, which was scary as fuck, but there was only one thing I needed to know. “Please. Is she okay?”

  Artist leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms to stare at the floor.

  Anger burst from me. I told Diesel, “I’m doing what you asked, ain’t I? Jesus fucking Christ! I didn’t even shave!”

  My new VP appeared at the end of the hallway that led into the big room, his hand motioning for me to take it down a notch. The resemblance between the two brothers was now so clear I was shocked the truth had blinded me.

  I could feel the veins in my neck begin to bulge as I tried to follow orders yet voice my frustrations. “I hear ya, Dagger, but I’m not even allowed to talk about who I’ve been all my life.” My head dropped forward. “I don’t even truly know who that is.” I tried again with his brother. “Diesel. Please.”

  Silence.

  If Diesel was going to deny me simple words, I turned to the only man I had left in my life. “Dagger, please. I will do anything you ask. Just… please, man. Please. Let me know if she’s okay. Can’t you see I’m doing it all for her?” My voice cracked. “I’m giving up everything. All I’m asking for in return is one answer. That’s it. If she’s not okay, none of this is worth it.”

  Maybe I was losing it. Maybe I was dealing with my last bit of fight. Either way, my VP came through. He came closer, telling Diesel, “He deserves an answer.”

  Diesel was the President of his own club but seemed to appreciate someone having my back. I think that is why he dipped his chin, honoring his brother’s request when telling me, “V says Delilah is struggling. That she wants to set your ashes… free.”

  I fell back into my doorjamb.

  “In the river.” He blew out air. “I think it will help her let you go.”