by Amo Jones
Hella’s shoulders stiffened. “No. No fucking way are we splitting.”
“We’re not splitting, I’m going to clear my head. I’ll come to Abby’s when I’m done.”
“Fuck that! No. No way,” he answered with certainty, crossing his thick arms in front of himself.
“Hella…” I warned, boring my eyes into his.
Luce stepped in, running his eyes between both Hella and I. “Suggestion. Come to Vegas and clear your head. Both of you. Hella can crash at the clubhouse until your head is…” he waved his hand around his head, “…cleared. Deal?”
Narrowing my eyes skeptically, I asked him, “Why? Why are you eager to know me?”
His face relaxed. “You’re my son. Our time was stolen. I plan to amend that. And there’s your mother, I loved her like no other.” Closing my eyes briefly, I nod.
“I need time,” I stated with certainty. “I’ve never had family. Hella and Jada were the only family I had. This word is foreign to me.”
“Just come home, son. I will take care of everything, that I promise you.” His words wrapped around the lost kid that still hides inside me. Maybe under it all, I do still crave a family. Under a lot of concrete layers and titanium barriers, but under there somewhere.
“Yeah, all right.” I swallowed past the lump that had built in my throat.
Hella walked to me, clutching his hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want me with you? We’ve never been separated,” he whispered, looking toward Luce.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I answered, looking directly into Luce’s eyes.
“I want to show you something,” Luce said, dragging up the garage door. The Devil’s Own compound is a lot rougher than the Sinful Souls’. It looks… biker. After our chat in Westbeach, we all rode back to Vegas that night. My head was clouded and I didn’t like it. It was a vulnerability that I wasn’t familiar with.
My footsteps caught up to Luce where he pulled up another silver garage door, opening out to display a gloss black Harley Davidson.
“Nice. It yours as well?” I asked, taking a step into the garage. The only light that beamed in was coming from the late day afternoon sun.
“Yeah. I bought her before my father died… your grandfather. He died last year. Don’t know why I bought it.” His eyes came up to meet mine with a smirk. “I do reckless shit when I’m feeling off.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, you don’t say.”
He pushed his fist into his pockets, fishing out a set of keys. “Here…” throwing them into my hands, “…she’s all yours. I don’t know why I bought her, but I’m glad I did.”
“I can’t accept this,” I responded, throwing the keys back at him.
“You can, and you will.” He tossed them back to me. “I make the rules around here, you take the bike.”
I caught them in the air. “All right. Thank you.”
He rounded the bike, walking toward me. “She’s a Dyna Super Glide Sport with custom T-bars.”
“Thanks, you didn’t have to do this.”
“No, I did,” he answered with a smirk.
“Oh, and why is that?”
“Because, you’re my son. Which makes you a Devil by blood, which means you will be patching in.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah? You’re very optimistic. Have you forgotten, I have The Army chasing my ass? That’s some baggage to bring into your club.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re family… and that makes me automatically involved, patch or no patch.” He turned in his steps, smirking over his shoulder. “Oh, and there’s a phone in the bag. Make sure you use it to get hold of me. Don’t be longer than a couple weeks. Welcome home, son.”
Twenty-one years. Twenty-one years it took for me to be free. With the wind whisking past my face, I’d never felt such freedom as I did riding this bike. A surge of adrenaline zapped through me as I hammered down to the apartment blocks I looked into before I left.
Pulling up to the curb, my bike rumbling under me I took my helmet off and threw my hoodie over my head. It was becoming a standard trait for me to have it on now. With The Army out for blood, my face needed to be hidden constantly. Shoving the gloves into my pocket, I walked toward the door. The walls covered in holes, little windows scattered around with only one way in and one way out. It was a shit hole, but it’d do. Until I figured out my money situation, I needed to be smart with how I spent the money I had. Pulling open the door, the smell of cigarettes and dirty diapers hit me. Jesus Christ, this place was less than a shithole.
“Can I help you?” The woman asked who sat behind a glass shield with a cigarette hanging from her mouth and her ratty hair trailing down her back. She had to be around sixty and she was a scary looking bitch too.
“Yeah, any rooms available?” I asked, cocking my head, running my eyes over her form.
She paused for a brief second, eying me up and down before reaching under her desk and pushing her chair up to stand. “Follow me.”
When she finally left, I gathered my belongings—which wasn’t much, just a backpack with a few items in it—before walking into the small unit. The room was a rundown absolute shit hole, but from where I’d just come from, this was luxury.
Walking into the bathroom, there were stains stretched wide over the vinyl flooring like puddles of washed up dirt. I turned the faucet on, ripped my clothes off, and stepped into the hot cascading water. Well, at least it was fucking warm, I was half expecting it to be cold.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I ran my hands over my head, wiping the water off me when a scream vibrated through the walls. My body stilled, every instinct I had sparked to life.
“No, no, no,” the desperate voice pleaded.
There was something in that pleading voice that pulled me in deep. The scream sank into my skin like fangs, lodging itself under my skin.
“Fuck,” I muttered, taking out a shirt from my bag before popping open a beer and sitting back on the couch. It was one in the morning, I should be sleeping. But with sleep, came the nightmares. I never knew where they came from. Memories I’d lost from the serum? Or just my imagination running wild while my eyes were closed…
With the rifle sitting propped on my shoulder, I rounded the building where my target lay. Looking up to the building opposite, I saw Hella lying on his stomach, peeping through the scope of his rifle. Pulling the ski mask over my face, I carried on through the dark alley, the street lights pitch black from being shot out. Reaching the power box that controlled the building, I popped it open and cut the main source of power, the windows above my head shutting to black instantly. I pulled the walkie-talkie out from the side of my vest, pushing on the button.
“Lights out. Heading in.”
“Roger,” Hella answered.
Kicking down the door, I raised my gun up to shoulder level and descended into the darkness, night vision goggles sitting over my eyes giving me florescent green vision. A gray figure came into view, my finger reacting instantly, the sound of the shot silent. I continued my shuffling down the long dark hallway, glancing down at the GPS map in my pocket, the target zoned into the room that sat in front of me. Raising up a gun, I kicked open the door where multiple figures appeared. Aiming at the first one, I shot him, taking each one down—failing in their attempts at escaping—until they dropped to the pavement. Once the room was clear, I pushed up the walkie-talkie. “She’s clear.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, what? You want me to double check?”
“Yeah, shake them just to make sure.”
“Hella, you’re a sick fucker.”
“You love it. Hurry up, no doubt they’ll have some crew coming out.”
Shaking my head, I brought my hand to my thigh where my holster was wrapped. Unclipping the buckle, I pulled out my Eickhorn Advance Combat Knife and made my way to the first body that I could see beaming through my night vision. One after one, I lodged my knife deep into their bodies. The spraying r
esidue from the destruction splattered over my skin like a thunderstorm of showers raining down on hell. After finishing with the final body, a glimpse of movement lit up my vision and my head snapped to where it came from. Tilting my head, I zoned in on the little figure that was sitting under the table clutching her brown teddy-bear with a tight pink bow tied across the ears. The little girl looked around the room, fear smothered all over her face as she clutched her teddy tighter, pulling it into her while squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Tears strolled down her eyes and her sobbing came in forceful heaves as her whimpers racked her body viciously. Dropping my gun, I pushed on the walkie-talkie.
“Roger, she’s clear,” I growled down the little black box, keeping my eyes locked on the little girl whose body relaxed instantly. She looked to be around five or six, there was no reason for me to take her out too. I was glad it was me that was sent on this mission, not one of the others. They would have taken her out too. Hella included.
Turning in my steps, I ran out the way I came, the mushy mess under my heavy boots sloshing under each footstep leaving behind a room full of dead men who didn’t know how to pay their gambling debt.
With my heart pounding against my chest, my skin prickled and dripped with sweat, I launched myself off the bed. “Another memory,” I whispered to myself, realization setting in that maybe I wasn’t such a heartless prick when it came to kids. Clutching the sheet around my waist, I threw my legs off the bed and walked into the kitchen to pour a glass of water before making my way back to bed. Fixing my eyes on the ceiling as I laid on my back, I glanced at the alarm clock that was sitting on the old bedside table, noting the time. Four in the morning, fucking great. Slowly closing my eyes, I snapped them open again when I heard the sound of a bed bumping up against a wall. My eyebrows creased as I looked toward where the sound was coming from, noticing it was where the screams filtered through from earlier. There were no screams this time. The sound of springs squeaking from a mattress pierced through and a headboard banging up against the wall in a continuous momentum. I don’t know why, but my stomach churned. We were never to have sex in The Army, but we did. The Chiefs would get escorts in, to scratch their itch so Hella and I would go dipping. The girls were nice girls, not the usual type you’d expect in escorts.
The sounds stopped, so I turned over and shut my eyes, thinking about all the revelations that had come to the surface over the past twenty-four hours.
Over the next two weeks, the same screams would vibrate through into my room. I’d seen the girl twice since I’d been here, she lived with her dad and I’m almost one hundred percent certain that that sick fuck was abusing her. It was none of my business, but no-one deserves to be treated like that. I don’t know why, but the need to save her intensified daily. I’d been recording her cries. They came in the middle of the night, so I was almost sure that she was asleep. I had been keeping in contact with Luce and Hella, told them I couldn’t come back yet, saying I needed space. Only that was a lie. I knew that I wanted to be a part of my dad’s club and I wanted to get to know him. But I was not leaving anywhere until I saved that young, lost girl.
Opening up the door, I closed it behind myself, pulling the lock over and placing the key in my jean’s pocket. I began walking down the wooden rundown stairs until I hit the front doors. Pushing them open, I made my way to my bike which was parked on the sidewalk. A few little teenagers admired it approvingly under their cheap bottles of clear liquor and a strong smell of ganja. I swung my leg over, kick-starting her to life, the deep rumble vibrating underneath me where the boys stood staring in appreciation. I smirked at them before flooring it out of there. I needed to set a plan up to get Jada back.
When I arrived back to the apartment, the cold night of the day had set, showing a dim glimmer of orange glowing over us. I called Luce and Hella today, sorted out a house to set up so I could get Jada out. As it turned out, they had a few houses on the clubhouse property and she could stay in one of those. It’d be a risky operation getting her out, but there was no way that I was leaving her there. Double stepping up the wooden stairs, I was passing the door next to mine when I noticed it was ajar. Pausing on my steps, my chest heavy, my throat tight, I brought my eyes up to the door, peering in through the crack. When it finally registered what was happening, a hot rush of lava flowed through me and a boiling burn began to steam under my skin. Raising my steel boot to the door, I kicked it open, barging inside with one man in my line of fire. Grasping his collar and pulling him off her, I threw him onto the floor.
“Who the fuck—” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because my fist was connecting with his mouth at rapid speed. Blow after blow, I put all my weight into every blow that came from me, pouring all the nights that I heard this girl scream into my assault.
“Stop,” the softness of her voice broke through the violence like a dove flying through a thunderous night.
My chest heaved with heaviness, weighed down with the suspicions of what this girl may have been through.
“I’ve been watching you,” I began, rubbing my blood-ridden hand over my face. “For the last two weeks, I’ve heard your screams through these walls. How long has he been doing this?” I asked, voice strained, and using all my will power not to just end him right here. The urge to slice this man into two was coming drastically close to snapping.
“I—I—uh,” she stuttered around her words. I kept my eyes locked on the blood-drenched body underneath me. My nostril’s flaring in rage.
“Just tell me? Be honest with me.” Clenching my fists so tightly, my knuckles glowed a bright white.
“Since I was four,” she whispered through the tightness of her throat.
My chest tightened, stomach coiled as anger pulsed through my veins, pumping ruthless adrenaline through me at epic speeds.
“Let me finish him,” I growled out, turning my head toward her over my shoulder.
“Okay,” she answered hoarsely.
Wrapping my hands around his neck, my hands slipped around his skin from the slickness of blood that was covering him. I grasped his head tightly and twisted it until I feel it snap in the palm of my hands. Relief flooded through my body, relief that this girl would not have to put up with this man ever again.
Getting up, I reached into my pocket and took out my keys, handing them over to her. “Go to my room. Don’t talk to anyone. Go there now. Do you understand?”
For the first time since I’d seen her, I noticed the little things. Like the way her blue eyes were the brightest shade of blue I’d ever seen, and they seemed a little too big for her face. Or how her heart shaped face was wrapped in milky silk skin. My fingers twitched as my mind wondered how it would feel to run my hand over her cheek which held a natural blush. Her cherry colored lips formed an O making two deep dimples pop out as she looked between the body and me.
Fuck me. She’s beautiful under the emptiness that taints her eyes.
She had to be young, way too young for me to be thinking about those cherry lips. I couldn’t come back for her.
“Can I see you?” she asked, tilting her head.
I grasped onto the rim of my hoodie that covered half of my face and pulled it down to the back of my neck.
Her big blue eyes examined me, narrowing in some places. When her blush deepened, I pulled the hoodie back over my face.
“You need to go. Now. I will wait until it’s dark outside to take care of the body, but you need to go next door and wait for me.” I pushed the keys into the palm of her cold, soft hand. “Now!” I urged her.
She winced and I internally swore at myself. That was not what I wanted to do, but she needed to leave. Her back turned to me as she walked toward the door. Grasping the handle in her hand, she turned to me over her shoulder and whispered, “Thank you,” before walking out and shutting the door behind her.
Once the door closed, I took out my phone from my pocket and dialed Hella. There’s no way I could shift this sack of shit on the back of my bike.
Seven Years After The Meet
Walking down the busy streets of downtown Manhattan after training, I was thankful for everything that had pulled me through my sleepless nights. Since I’d been in New York, I’d been doing archery. It’d given me the strength that I needed to get me through, to remind myself that I was in control now. No-one knew about my past. I wasn’t ready to share that with anyone yet, but when I was, my best friend Phoebe would be the first person I would confide in. She’s everything a girl could want in a best friend, despite the fact that she was raised within a motorcycle club. She’s extremely compassionate, loyal and loving. I wanted to tell her a little about my past because I knew it killed her every time I shut myself off. The vibration of my phone in my pocket pulled me out of my thoughts. I answered it with a smile, knowing that it was Phoebe. She and I have been inseparable since she saved me from getting my handbag taken by a homeless man on the side of the street. It was my first week in NYC, and I was trying to find an apartment in my price range to rent that was around NYU when she stopped the whole ordeal. She was a tough little cookie. I later found out that she was raised within a motorcycle club which explained a lot.
“Hey, what do you want for dinner?” I asked, bringing my sunglasses down over my eyes and trying not to bump into the large amount of bodies that were hurrying about their daily duties.
“Um… homemade burgers?”
“Fine,” I rolled my eyes. “But we’re eating whole-wheat buns, no mayo, and no ground beef patties. Steak or chicken breast burgers. Pick…”
“You take the fun out of homemade burgers, Meads. Steak. Get extra. Melissa is coming down.” Melissa is Phoebe’s best friend from Westbeach. She was around five foot three, long blonde hair with sun-kissed skin. We got on well, but I’d only been around her when Phoebe was around.