by Erin Osborne
“Rich, guard the front door and don’t let anyone in for any reason. House bunnies get the fuck outta here. This doesn’t concern you and you won’t be here to witness whatever is on these tapes. The rest of you, these tapes will only be viewed once. I will be destroyin’ them once Gwen has had enough. When she says she’s done, the tapes are done bein’ viewed. Slim, I’m not tryin’ to step on your toes here, but this is my call for my ol’ lady,” Killer tells everyone.
For several minutes, the house bunnies don’t move from the bar or tables where they’re sitting. They either think Killer’s kidding or they don’t give a shit about what he’s saying. This is the shit that pisses me off about these women. They believe because they’re fucking all the single men of the club they’re better than anyone else here. Even when they’re told the ol’ ladies outrank them in regard to the hierarchy of the Phantom Bastards.
“Did you bitches not fuckin’ hear Killer?” Slim bellows out. “Get the fuck outta here now. Or you can leave permanently. Killer is an officer of this club and he will be respected. Gwen will also be respected as his ol’ lady. You don’t want to follow this; you don’t belong here. Period.”
That’s all it takes for the skanks to stand up and scurry away. They look back and glare at me before leaving the room. I don’t give a shit about what they feel when it comes to me. Or anything I’m going through. These bitches are out for themselves and trying to take our spot from the men we’re with. None of them will ever make an ol’ lady but they don’t let it stop them from trying to become one.
Once everyone is cleared out, Fox comes in and sets everything up so the tapes can be watched. He gives me a look to make sure I’m ready before he hits play on the first one. Within seconds, the screen fills with me as a young girl. I’m standing in the room where my father made me stay and getting undressed. Bile immediately threatens to spew forward as I watch myself get undressed before putting my pajamas on. I never once thought they’d put cameras in my room to watch me. Shortly after I climb into bed, the tape switches to another scene. This one is of me in the bathroom getting in the shower.
“Take it out!” I practically shout out.
Fox immediately removes the tape and tosses it to the floor. He picks up another one and puts it in. This tape is different. It showcases the beatings I suffered at the hands of my father’s henchmen. I’m strapped to a table this time with three men beating on me. My eyes close and heat immediately engulfs me. Killer’s scent fills my senses and comforts me as the sounds of my abuse penetrate the deafening silence of the common room.
Once again the tape is taken out and another one put in. This process is repeated several times. It showcases several different types of abuse I’ve suffered at the hands of my father and the men in his employment. All things I never wanted to relieve in my life. These are all the things I need to know though in case someone has made copies of them. If they ever surface I’ll be prepared for any outlash or pain that will surface as a result.
“Killer, I’m done. I can’t watch, or hear anymore of this. Please, I need to go upstairs and process this,” I beg with him while my head is buried in his chest.
“Alright Sparrow,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. “Fox, she’s done. Shut it down and get rid of that shit. All of it. Stryker, you wanna fill the rest of the guys in on the situation from earlier? And check with Robbie at the gate about what Torres told us?”
“On it,” Stryker responds, kissing my cheek as Killer stands in front of him with me in his arms.
The second we’re upstairs, Killer lays me in bed and covers me up. Instead of going back downstairs, he strips down and crawls into bed with me. I turn the TV on simply for background noise and nestle into Killer’s body. He holds me tight to him and murmurs into my ear. One of his hands rests on my still flat stomach where our babies rest. He wants these babies as much as I do without saying a word. Every chance he gets, Killer is either kissing my belly or resting one of his hands there. He wants to be close to our children in the only way he can at the moment.
“So proud of you baby,” he tells me. “You’re stronger than you’ll ever know. We’ll beat this shit and get rid of all of your demons.”
“I know you will,” I answer him, putting all of my faith and trust into the man who’s captured my heart.
Today’s events have taken a toll on me. Sleep soon claims me as I soak up as much of Killer as I can. Sleep is the best thing for me right now. Especially with the babies I’m carrying.
Chapter Twenty
Killer
AFTER MAKING SURE Gwen is fast asleep for now, I carefully slip out of bed and make my way down to the common room where the rest of my brothers are waiting on me. Not a single one of them are happy or relaxing. Each man sitting in front of me is pissed as fuck we let a piece of shit like Torres get in the club. Even as a Prospect. No man will ever put his hands on a female or child. For him to believe it’s okay is something we’re against. None of us give a shit if we catch a charge for beating the fuck out of some asswipe who hits on women in anger or simply because he feels he can.
“Who’s ready to get this shit taken care of?” I ask when I hit the last step.
Everyone chimes in that they’re ready to beat the fuck out of this asshole and take out the trash. Plus, I’m seriously wondering if he knows more about what’s going on with Gwen than we thought up to this point. Not a single one of us like having doubts about one of our members, including the Prospects. However, we won’t hesitate to take these assholes out if we find out about their betrayal.
Turning on my heel, I make my way down to the basement where Torres is waiting on us. Stryker already has his ass strung up with chains from a rafter in the ceiling. His toes barely hit the ground and I see my brother already got a few good hits on him if the swelling and slight bruising is any indication. A smile covers my face at the knowledge Stryker wasn’t going to let him get away with the shit we heard upstairs. Especially knowing he was directing those comments toward my ol’ lady. A woman who wouldn’t hurt a fly. However, she’d protect those she loves and cares about with any means necessary.
“Why the fuck do you think it’s okay to put your hands on a woman to put her in her place?” Slim questions him, getting in his face.
“Bitches aren’t anythin’ but that. They’re a hole to sink into, do your chores, and make sure her man is taken care of. Anythin’ other than that, they don’t need to be a part of, or they can feel my hand on their face,” Torres responds as if he’s not about to get the fuck beat out of him.
“You guys hear this shit?” Slim asks, a smile covering his face.
Torres begins laughing as if we’re simply joking around and this is part of him being a Prospect. It’s not. He’ll be finding that out really quick. Especially when Slim steps back and lets me have at this cocksucker.
“First of all, our women, or any woman associated with the club, is to be cherished. We don’t lay our fuckin’ hands on them in anger or lash out at them for any reason. They are more than fuckin’ eye candy meant to remain silent by our side. These women are our equals. Now, I want to really know how you knew there would be a package at the gate for Gwen. Robbie didn’t call you. That leads me to believe you’ve been havin’ a hand in makin’ sure my woman is sufferin’. While she’s on bedrest and carryin’ my babies in her belly. You got two motherfuckin’ seconds to start talkin’ before I blow your brains out,” I taunt him, knowing that won’t be happening because I’ll gut the fucker slowly.
Torres starts laughing his ass off once more. What the hell is it with this guy laughing at everything?
“You guys are nothin’ but pussies. Lettin’ your women do whatever the fuck they want, talk to you how they want, and hang out at the clubhouse instead of takin’ advantage of the pussy here. I’ll admit, you got some nice merchandise hangin’ around the club. Girls Neil won’t mind gettin’ his hands on. Startin’ with your bitch,” he finally says, looking me dead in the eyes.<
br />
“The fuck you just say?” Slim yells as every man in the room steps forward.
“Neil is gonna take down this fuckin’ club and he’s startin’ with the bitches. Don’t matter if it’s your ol’ lady, the sluts, or any other female associated with the club. Not a single one of your asses are gettin’ out of this alive,” he responds, a smile covering his face.
“You think this shit is funny?” I question him, grabbing a knife and sliding it lightly down his cheek.
The blade is sharp enough it begins to slice open his skin. Torres shrieks like the bitch he is as I move to the opposite side of his face. He begins to plead and cry for me to stop cutting him. I wonder if any of the women he’s been with have begged and pleaded with him to stop doing shit to them. To stop beating on them or making them feel less than they truly are. If not anything worse.
“How did you know the package would be outside?” I ask Torres again, waving the knife in his face.
“It was at your house. I got the call to pick it up and take it to wherever Gwen is,” he says, tears falling from his eyes.
“So, you went to our home, got this box, and brought it here to show her. Knowin’ she just got outta the hospital and doesn’t need the stress. I mean, we already get you don’t give a fuck about women, but we do. You hurt my woman or unborn babies and I’ll gut you like a fuckin’ fish and not think twice. In fact, I’ll sleep like a fuckin’ baby right next to Gwen,” I inform him. “Who sent you to the fuckin’ house?”
“I don’t know his name,” Torres says. “He called my phone and told me to grab it so I could bring it here where she is. They don’t know where she is at this point in time. They will though.”
“How are they gonna find out?” Stryker asks, landing a punch to the fucker’s ribs.
“They follow me whenever I get sent on a mission for them,” he replies, gasping for breath.
“So, you knowingly led them back here? Where our women and kids come to hang out?” Playboy growls out.
“What the fuck do I care? It’s not like I actually want in this fuckin’ club full of bitches,” Torres responds just as Playboy’s fist lands in his face and then one in his stomach. “The fuck was that for?”
“You’re nothin’ but a bitch who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as our women,” Playboy growls at, stepping back away from him.
“Well, that takes out one more question I have to ask. You really are a pathetic excuse for a man. In fact, I’m beginnin’ to wonder if you really have a pussy,” I say as the men I call brothers begin to laugh. “Now, last question, who is after my woman.”
“Already told you I don’t fuckin’ know,” he says looking me in the eyes.
“How did they get in touch with you in the beginnin’?” I question him, knowing there’s more to the story than what he’s saying.
Torres looks around the room for several minutes. He’s looking for a way out of the mess he finds himself in, but I don’t believe there is one. I know he won’t be getting away from us for anything. Down here, there’s no window or any other way to get in the room other than to come up behind us. Prospects are still upstairs and won’t let anyone get past them. They know what to do when we’re down here. Much like the rest of us, the Prospects even want a piece of this cocksucker. Unfortunately for them, they don’t get to have that just yet.
“I got a problem with drugs and gamblin’ that’s how they found me. I owe a lot of money to Neil and his men. With Neil in prison because of that stupid bitch, I didn’t think they’d collect. They are. Since I don’t have any money, they decided I could work for them instead. My job is to let them know where the women are whenever they call me and do other things such as pick up packages and shit,” he answers, letting his head hang down.
We all stand in stunned silence for several minutes. This is the last thing we expected to hear from Torres. Not a single one of us had any clue he was an addict.
“Got anythin’ else to tell us?” I demand from him, already getting sick of being anywhere near the douche canoe and wanting to be back in my bed with Gwen.
“Fuck you,” he says, another smile covering his face through the blood drying on his skin.
“Wrong answer,” I reply, slamming the blade in his leg.
This won’t kill him, but it will cause pain as I begin to throw fist after fist at the fucker. I’m going to beat him down before ending his life. He’s not going to get the torture we typically give fuckers like him. I don’t have time for this and we’re gonna need to put plans in place to protect our women and find out where the hell Neil is. If he’s out, shit’s about to hit the fan.
Stepping back, I let Stryker get in his shots while I calm my racing heart and breathing down. I worked over Torres for several minutes and don’t hold the fuck back. He doesn’t deserve it. Now Stryker will get his shots in before any of the other guys. And I have a feeling the rest of the guys will want to get their shots in too. Then we’ll put a bullet in his brain and call it good. He already gave us more information than we anticipated.
As I stand back against the wall, my phone goes off. Normally I wouldn’t answer it while we’re down in the basement, however with Gwen not doing so great right now, there’s no way in hell I’m not answering it. Instead of a call, it’s an alert from our home. Someone is trying to break in. Not happening today. Looking at Slim and the guys, I show them my phone. Stryker pulls his gun, looks at me, and I nod my head at him. Within seconds, Torres is dead. The Prospects will take care of everything else here while we find out what’s going on at my place.
Racing out to my bike, I straddle it and make my way to the house. The rest of the guys follow me as thoughts of getting there fill my head. That’s the only concern I have right now because Gwen is safe at the clubhouse with Prospects and one or two full patch members there. No one will get to her before I’m back in bed with her.
The ride to my house feels like hours are passing us by when the reality is its only minutes as I keep my throttle wide open and don’t give a fuck about what happens to me. I want to rid the world of these assholes and make sure Gwen and our children are safe moving forward.
Finally, I’m at the house and barely take the few seconds it takes to put the kickstand down before racing around my home. There’s no way whoever is here didn’t hear ten bikes roaring up the road and stopping at my house. Instead of heading inside the house, I race around back where it showed the breach. All the guys have access to my home, just like I do to theirs. Someone will make their way inside while I look around back.
Rounding the corner of my house by the room I have my office in, I pull my gun and have it ready. Looking at the window for the office, I want to stop and laugh. There’s a pair of legs kicking as a man tries to get back out of the window. He’ll have a hell of a surprise once he hits the ground. Especially with Stryker coming around the opposite corner of the house. His gun is pulled out and in front of him as we stand still and wait to see what this man is gonna do.
“Who the fuck are you?” I yell out when he finally drops down from the window.
“Lloyd,” he responds, pissing himself without either one of us advancing on him.
“You’re that much of a pussy?” I ask as Stryker, who hasn’t been noticed yet, continues to stalk up behind him. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here for the bitch,” he says, not knowing exactly how much trouble he’s in right now.
“These fuckers aren’t too bright, are they?” Stryker finally speaks up.
Lloyd jumps and turns quicker than I thought possible so he’s facing the house in between Stryker and myself. At the same time, Playboy leans his head out the window, his own gun in his hand. Everything I see is in my peripheral vision.
“Who sent you here for my woman?” I ask him, not once taking my eyes off him.
“Neil did. Said she’s his and always has been. He wants her back for the rest of the plan to be put in motion. Plus, he said she’s gotta pay for fucking
up,” Lloyd informs us. “More men are coming for her. You won’t even know. There’s at least two more I know about. Plus the rat in your very own club.”
“My woman didn’t fuck anythin’ up. She got out of an abusive relationship where she was raped on more than one occasion. That sound like a plan to you?” I growl out, my temper rising as I bring my gun up level with his head. “The rat in our club is no longer breathin’. After we got some information from him that is. Now, we’re gettin’ more from you.”
My trigger finger is getting jittery as the need to lay eyes on my woman overrides everything else. Before any of us can blink, Lloyd takes the choice away from all of us. He raises his gun and pulls the trigger, ending his own life before we could get any further information from him.
“Fuck!” I yell out. “We need to find out what the fuck Neil is doin’ and if he’s still in prison. Who his fuckin’ contacts are and anythin’ else to help us.”
“We will. I’ll get Fox on it,” Playboy assures me. “You get back to your woman and let us take care of this shit. Gwen doesn’t need to be alone any longer. You’ve been away from her awhile now. I’ll let you know when I get back.”
Nodding my head, I place my gun back in the waistband of my jeans and head back to my house. I straddle it while Slim also gets back on his.
“Not ridin’ alone. No one rides alone for now,” he states as we start our engines and take off.
Getting back to the clubhouse, I head to Fox’s room so I can shower. I don’t say a word as he continues to do his thing on his computers. My only goal is to take a quick shower and get to my own room. The second I’m out and dried off, I slide the sweatpants I stash here on. Nodding my head at Fox, I shut his door and head to my room.
Gwen is still passed out as I slide back in bed with her. Even in sleep, my girl turns to me. I wrap my arm around her and hold her close to me. Closing my eyes, I let sleep claim me. There’s nothing I can do for now. Not until the guys get back from my house and decide to have church.