Taking Avery: A Lilith's Army MC Novel

by Ker Dukey

  “The bitch chooses to be here, so get the fuck out of my room.”

  “Come on,” Slade urges me, and I stamp my foot like a child.

  “No way, Slade.”

  “Slade?” Brenner sneers. “His name is Frost, you stupid cunt.”

  My stomach plummets at his words and I need to get out of this room. He’s such a vile piece of crap.

  “You’re the only cunt here,” I spit, barging past him, feeling brave with Slade here, but Brenner grabs my arm and yanks me back. Fight mode swarms over me and I find my body reacting without control. My fist flies out and I attack, hitting at his chest. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

  “Frost, sort your bitch before I put her on her ass!”

  Unexpectedly, Brenner suddenly drops to his knees when Slade kicks him behind the knee, taking his leg out. I ready myself and bring my boot forward to hit him in the junk.

  “Motherfucker.” He growls, keeling over to hold his balls.

  Slade walks around him and scoops me up before I can continue my assault. I’m slung over his shoulder and Jenna hasn’t even moved to look up at the commotion.

  “You deserved that, brother,” Slade says over his shoulder, but I regret my outburst almost immediately when Brenner lifts his head to pin me with the glare of the devil. He swipes his thumb across his throat to signal what fate he has for me.

  I’m not sure whether to be angry with her or laugh at her reaction. Did she really think I’d live in a fucking shack?

  Her eyes had been wide when I’d pulled into the driveway, and now, when I lead her inside, they have enlarged to huge orbs.

  “Freaking hell.” It’s almost a whisper, but I catch her surprise.

  “I don’t know whether to be offended or amused. Did you really think I would bed down in a fucking dump?”

  “What? No,” she says with a swift shake of her head. “No. But, come on, Slade. This.” She spins around in a circle, still staggered by my home. “This is something entirely different.”

  “Why? Because I choose to take pride in where I live? Just ‘cos I’m a biker, doesn’t make me a waster.”

  “You’d be surprised. I’m not sure if there’s a Cutter out there that takes this much pride in their home.” She shrugs. “Although, I’ve never really taken that much notice of any of them to know anything about them.”

  “Well, maybe you should have.”

  She laughs bitterly. “Not really. Every single one of them hated me.”

  I don’t understand how anyone could hate her. Unless it’s her own paranoia that makes her think that, or perhaps this fucking Axel guy has put the fear in everyone about being nice to her and that’s why.

  “By the sounds of it, this Axe dude didn’t.”

  She stares at me when she hears the resentment in my tone, and quickly changing the subject, I lead her into the kitchen. “Chop chop, darlin’. I’m fucking starving.”

  For a minute, I’m sure she’s going to hurt me, but sighing, she shakes her head. “It’s a good thing I enjoy cooking, and that I’m looking forward to the escape it brings, otherwise I would be cooking your balls right now.”

  I laugh. I love that she’s feisty, always amusing me with the way she thinks she’s on equal par with me. However, I keep my own counsel and leave her to make a start with whatever she can find in the fridge.

  “Bomber?” I answer my cell and greet my brother as I isolate myself in the den. I love it in here; the mass of plump sofas and chairs, the old wooden bar that runs along the length of one wall, and the pool table that stands central in the vast space always gives me a sense of calm. My life is hectic, the club taking up most of my life, and it’s here that I permit all the pent-up energy to be unburdened in drink and pool. I feel free here.

  “Frost.”

  “How’s Stormy doing?”

  “It’s not good. He flat lined.” The hairs on the nape of my neck rise, my gut clenching with apprehension.

  “He’s on life support and they say he may never wake up.”

  I don’t know what to fucking say because I have nothing to go on to bring him justice.

  “I have some other intel.”

  “Go on.”

  “I did some digging. Turns out his old lady is well-known around Forest Heights.”

  “Fuck. Really?” Forest Heights is the red light district of Sleight Falls. If you need a kinky fuck, there’s your place.

  “Mmm, bitch puts it out to whoever shows her attention, or rather, whoever is willing to pay for it or put powder up her nose.”

  “So, Terry was right.”

  “Seems so. But, Frost.”

  I pause, waiting for him to continue.

  “There’s a rumor.”

  Closing my eyes, I bite into my lower lip and wait for the snippet of bad news I know is coming. “Of course there is.”

  “There’s talk that Marie is pregnant and it isn’t Stormy’s, so that’s why she hightailed it out of there. Stormy got snipped years ago.” When I drag in a long breath, Bomber quickly adds, “And she’s in deep with the Terry so it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s his.”

  “You think she has something to do with Stormy’s stabbing?”

  “God only knows. But she hasn’t been straight with you. Bitch is keeping all this fucking shit from not just you, but her old man. That just ain’t done, man. Needs sortin’, and quick if you want my counsel.”

  “Yeah. I still think we’re missing something, Bomber.”

  “Mmm. Maybe. You want me to dig some more?”

  “No. But I do need something else from you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Fuck, this is good shit, princess. Where’d you learn how to cook?” I delve into the Bolognese she’s managed to rustle up from the meagre supplies in my cupboards.

  Avery smiles, my praise making her cheeks glow pink, and shrugs as if she’s embarrassed. “I enjoy cooking. It helps take my mind off stuff.”

  “Stuff?”

  Sitting back, I watch her, and down a half bottle of beer when she dismisses my question and scoops more food between her lips. Her mouth moves slowly as she chews, almost meticulously.

  “Do you always put this much perfection into everything you do?”

  Her cheeks redden even further and she shrinks back. “It’s just me. Sorry if it pisses you off.”

  “Doesn’t piss me off, darlin’.” It does make me pissed how timid she can be though, especially when I know how damn gutsy she really is. “Just trying to get to know you is all. We’re gonna be getting under each other’s feet for a while. It’d help if we knew one another a bit more.”

  She smirks and finally looks up at me. “So we don’t try and kill each other?”

  “Yeah.” I chuckle. She gets me.

  Placing her fork down on her plate, she rests her elbows on the table and looks to me. “So, what’s your story?”

  “My story?” I’m tempted to bite back with a sarcastic reply, but we do need to get to know one another, mainly because we’ll be spending the rest of our sorry lives together.

  I pick my bottle back up and run a finger around the rim in thought.

  “Let’s see. I have a brother Brenner, you’ve met him.”

  She narrows her eyes.

  “I also have a sister, she’s Brenner’s twin.”

  This intrigues her; she folds her arms and leans forward. “Really, a twin, is she like him?”

  “God no, thank fuck.”

  “What’s your mom like?”

  “Mom died when Brenner and Rhiannon were seven.”

  Avery’s eyes fill with sadness and she reaches across the table to give my hand a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry.” She’s sincere, her truth written across her features and in those dark green eyes of hers. No one ever said that to me before. They were all angry for what she did. The Prez was never the same after that.

  “Nah, don’t be. What’s in the past isn’t the future. It shouldn’t mold what we become or who we are.
”

  I know it has molded Brenner though, and I say the words, but deep within me, I don’t feel them. I never really dealt with her death. Anger just became a constant inside my chest because of it and I vowed I’d never let a woman get inside me like she did my father. She ruined him and Brenner, Rhiannon, and even me. One shot and five lives changed forever.

  “We can’t change the past.”

  “I get that.” She nods, her eyes glazing over as she contemplates my truth. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though.”

  I shrug, not feeling her belief. “Hurt Rhiannon more than it did Bren and me. She was young. Prez…” I trail off. I’m talking shit, this façade I wear when talking about her now so much a part of me that I don’t know when to quit it. Would she judge me if I told her that she’s right, that it does hurt? It hurts so much that if I allow myself to feel it, I may not make it through the next heartbeat.

  She squints at me. “Prez? You call your own father ‘Prez’?”

  I’m relieved for the change in subject and chuckle. “Yeah. Respect is everything in this world.”

  She scoffs but holds back the retort that’s sitting on her tongue, waiting to jump, and I narrow my eyes on her. “We need to have some rules here, princess.”

  Her eyes widen at my tone.

  “I told you we need to get more info on each other. Well, here it is. My main thing is respect. I demand it.”

  She swallows hard and I see the trepidation in the glow of her watery eyes. “Just like my father does?”

  “Ah, ah.” I shake a finger at her. “You’re jumping ahead. I ain’t gonna command the kinda respect your father does, but I do ask that you don’t humiliate me in front of others, especially my brothers. That shit won’t go down well with me, princess.”

  She seems to relax a little and nods. “I get that.” Biting into her lip, she grimaces. “Listen, about that. I didn’t mean to disrespect you in front of your club.” Wringing her fingers together, she lowers her eyes in shame. “I was nervous and worried about what your brothers would think of me. I was trying to be tough, warn them, in a way. I didn’t mean to…”

  “Shush. All’s good.” I get her. I do. It’s a natural born instinct in all of us to make ourselves look bigger and harder than we really are. Even a hedgehog will enhance its spikes to warn others away, even when they have no fight in them.

  She shrugs. “Well, I’m sorry.”

  “Appreciated.”

  Diving back into my food, I chew and stare at her. She’s gazing at me, but I know she isn’t seeing me. She’s lost to her thoughts, her striking eyes misted with wherever her mind has taken her.

  She’s stunning in a quiet kind of way. Her eyes tell of the heartache that lives in her, and I can’t help but wonder exactly what it was that broke her. Her plump lips are the softest pink I’ve ever seen, and the smattering of freckles that cover her nose lay perfectly muted against the creaminess of her skin.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asks, studying my face.

  ‘Fucking you raw,’ I want to say, but instead I finish the last spoonful of food and get to my feet. “I have club business. I want you to settle in, make this place your home. Tomorrow we can go buy you some of your own shit to fill the place with. Until then, use mine. I’ll be back tonight.”

  “Okay,” she offers meekly, folding her arms.

  “You’re not a prisoner here, princess, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t go anywhere without me for the first couple of weeks.” She doesn’t offer a vocal reply but nods her head.

  My cell dings again and I pull it out as I make my way outside. “Yeah?”

  “Marie is nowhere. She left the hospital almost as soon as Tank did, and now we can’t find her.”

  “Put some feelers out with King. He runs the streets, and if she’s been working them, he will know about it.”

  “On it.”

  I end the call with Scorch and head back to the club.

  “Another?” I bite my lip in anger and pinch the bridge of my nose. “What the fuck is going on, Prez?”

  “Fucked if I know, son,” my dad answers. “But it’s costing me money. How the fuck the pigs know when the shipments are due in troubles me.”

  “You thinking we have a rat?” The beat of my heart stampedes as I wait for him to concur. A part of me wants him to laugh off my suspicion, but I know he won’t. He thinks it as much as I do.

  He looks me in the eyes with both sadness and anger, and nods slowly.

  “Fuck!” I hiss, my mouth turning dry with the consequences of this news. “Although, which fucking brother would possibly turn rogue on us? Don’t make sense, Prez.”

  He slumps into his chair and I take the one beside him at the large oblong table we usually hold church at. It’s not strange that it’s only Prez and me here; often the need to talk between ourselves is paramount. Brothers are brothers. They’re loyal but hotheaded, and sporadically, especially with delicate matters, it’s essential that Prez and me discuss matters confidentially. Brothers can be adolescent at times, a bit too quick off the mark, and instead of making plans, they want their revenge on certain spites against us instantaneously.

  “Not gonna be long before the cops have enough evidence to link this back to us, either. I’m careful, always. Doesn’t mean that those fuckers won’t find something to pin on us.”

  I nod. “Saw the sheriff in the hospital when I went to visit Storm. That bastard hates us. The fucking sneer on his face made me want to wrap his head around my fist until every one of my knuckles was indented on the fucker’s brain. He wouldn’t think twice about screwing us over, even for something we ain’t done. So, I can guarantee, if he can do us for the girls, he’ll be right at the front of the queue for bringing us down and sending all of us to fucking hell. And if the cunt finds out it was Bren that took out his son…” I don’t finish the sentence; I don’t need to.

  Gritting his teeth, he curls his lip and growls deep in his chest, his mutual hatred of the county sheriff making his blood boil as much as mine. “Keep your ear to the ground. But don’t let the brothers know. No point causing any turbulence between everyone. There’ll be fists flying all over the goddamn shop. Trust is everything to them. They need to know they have each other’s backs. Any hint of a traitor then this place will kick off with a shit ton of chaos.”

  “Goes without saying.” I settle his worry with a firm nod as I rise from the chair.

  “Where is my brother and the Brothers Grim? I noticed they’ve been out a lot lately.”

  He inhales heavy. “Yeah. I have them back out at the colleges and club circuits, keeping our distributers in line. Keeps the fuckers busy.” He grunts. I don’t question his choice of putting them around other kids the same age as the ones they slaughtered. He’s the Prez and has enough on his plate right now.

  “The kid doing okay?” he asks, stopping me as I move to leave.

  Nodding, I grin. “Mean fucker of a cook.”

  “Always told you, every cloud and all that shit. She given up the goods yet? Bet that bitch is hot in the sack.” He grins. Anyone else I’d tell to shut his fucking mouth, but he’s not anyone else.

  Shrugging, I answer truthfully. “I’m making sure she’s ready first. I ain’t no rapist.”

  He chuckles. “Probably the only one who ain’t round here.”

  I laugh and nod, but we both know most of the brothers aren’t like that. There are some sick fucks, goes without saying, but only a minority of Lilith’s Army is into that vile shit. Yet, some wouldn’t admit to the fact that they’re too damn ugly to get their own pussy, so they delude themselves with the fact that some poor chick was willing to give it up, even if she wasn’t.

  Closing the door behind me, I stroll to the bar to neck a few shots of whisky. I need to calm the thunder in my head and my gut. This news isn’t good. In fact, it’s the worst. Knowing a brother is selling shit on us is akin to your momma selling your ass for a fix—soul crumbling. Lilith’s Army is
a unit, a mass of components that make a smooth-running machine. But it only takes one of the cogs to become damaged to break down the whole damn structure, bringing every element collapsing into a heap of anarchy.

  “Usual?” Denise asks with a grin when I slide onto one of the stools.

  Shaking my head, I say, “Patron. A few.”

  She frowns at my unusual request and ambles off to fix the much-needed tequila.

  “Surprised to see you in,” Bullseye remarks as he slips onto the stool beside me. “Thought you’d be buried deep in the ass of that new woman of yours.”

  I’m the one who’s surprised. Cancer is ravaging the poor fucker’s body yet he doesn’t look a day older. This isn’t unusual for Bullseye, though. The lucky bastard never appears to look any older. The only telling thing about him being mid-fifties is the slight dusting of grey hair around his temples. His body is as firm as a weightlifter on steroids.

  “Think she’s had enough for one day.” I wink. “If ya’ get my drift.”

  He laughs loudly, slapping me on the back. “Good on ya’. Gotta admit though, kid, you’ve shocked the hell outta this old man. Never thought I’d see the day. If there’s any brother here that I least expected it of, it was you. There’s enough pussy to make the merry-go-round of man spin, but some of these delinquents go from one to another as if the world’s gonna end tomorrow. You though, you take your time, enjoy the warmth of a woman’s cunt. Doesn’t mean to say you wanna bed down in that warm piece of ass though.”

  I smile. Bullseye has always had a way of saying things, his euphemisms getting to the point the long way around, but it kind of endears me to him. He thinks things through, observes and considers everything without making assumptions. That was one of the reasons my father had taken him on as VP.

  “Dunno what to say, Bullseye. Just that, fuck, she inspires me. She makes the world seem a better place. As you say, why take winter when you can have the warmth of summer?”

  His eyes widen slightly at my sentimental babble. The stutter in my chest surprises me also when I realize I mean every word. Changing the subject quickly when Denise places the three small shot glasses in front of me, I lower my voice. “Prez told me about the cancer. How the fuck you doing, man?”