Chief

by Debra Kayn

  "Jesus, she can't take anymore." Chief hauled her up to her feet and held her mobile.

  A warm hand landed on her forehead. Her back pressed against the front of Chief, her body bowed into itself as she dry heaved, over and over.

  Unable to support herself, she hung from Chief's arm. Unable to control her stomach, her nose, her mouth, she used every speck of concentration trying to breathe. Finally, able to inhale, her aching lungs gasped for more as her stomach cramped. She waved her hand in front of her. Even that little of movement exhausted her.

  Her body ached.

  She was humiliated.

  "Get her a towel." Chief straightened his body, bringing her upright. "Is it over, Doc?"

  "Time will tell." The older man appeared in front of her, pressing his hand to her forehead and tilting her head. "There you are. She's more aware. Her pupils look better. Keep her up. Someone fetch her a cup of strong coffee, cold or hot, it doesn't matter. The caffeine will make her feel better even if she can't hold it down long."

  Doc picked up her hand, pressing his fingers to her wrist. "A little better pulse."

  "God damnit, someone hurry with that coffee," shouted Chief.

  Doc slipped his hand, holding the end of the stethoscope, into her shirt. She whined. All she wanted to do was lay down.

  "Chief?" She patted his arm that continued holding her up. "Home."

  "You can't go home, bug. Not yet," he said.

  "No." She shook her head, dizziness striking her. "You're home. Don't leave me."

  "Not going anywhere." He kissed the side of her head.

  "Her heart sounds good, so I think we can rest that she didn't take any heart medicine," said Doc.

  "Heart?" she mumbled.

  "Beta blockers, Nitrates, Statins." Doc patted her arm.

  She groaned. "I don't... want to throw... up anymore."

  "The drug is still in your system." Doc patted her arm. "Whatever you took had a sedative effect. You're a slim woman. It wouldn't take much for you to feel the effects. The caffeine and even vomiting will make you more alert. In a couple hours, I suspect you'll be fine."

  Doc moved away from her and back to Olin's side. She caught Karla's concerned gaze. Whatever words and attitude they'd exchanged because of her relationship with Chief were only their hurt feelings coming out in the open. Underneath the disappointment, she loved Karla.

  Chano put a cup of warm coffee in her hand. She looked at the dark liquid and her stomach cramped. "I can't—"

  "Sip it," said Chief. "Or, I'll fucking force you to drink it."

  "Don't be mean," she mumbled, bringing the mug to her lips.

  Despite the bitterness, the warm temperature of the coffee soothed her raw throat. She breathed through her nose, afraid she'd throw up again. Her stomach muscles ached and the tiredness plaguing her remained. She wanted to go home and crawl into bed and forget today even happened. That Olin was uninjured and riding his Harley. That Chief laid beside her, holding her. That Nene...

  "Are you riding out, Chief?" asked Chano.

  "No." The instant tension in her body buckled her knees. "Don't leave me. Don't leave Olin."

  Chief caressed her hip. "I'm staying here with my family. Put more men on the road and get the motherfucker."

  His family.

  She sipped more coffee, wanting to recover for him. He had too much on his plate to worry about her.

  "How's Olin?" she asked.

  Karla sat up, having been unhooked from the blood transfusion. She turned her gaze to Johanna. "The color of his skin looks better."

  She looked over her shoulder at Chief and whispered, "He's going to make it."

  Chief intense gaze spoke volumes even though his mouth remained closed and tense. She reached up and stroked his beard, understanding his worry about his son. If anything happened to one of his boys, it'd destroy him. Then, it'd kill him because he'd go after anyone who dared lay a hand on his sons.

  "Let's get you walking around." Chief guided her around the room, holding on to her. She couldn't meet the eyes of the others. Embarrassed to have the attention when Olin needed everyone's strength pulling him through.

  After making a complete lap around the interior of the clubhouse, her thoughts became clearer. She no longer yawned, and her stomach cramps eased leaving behind sore muscles and emptiness.

  Away from the others watching over Olin, she said, "I’m so sorry."

  "What are you sorry about?" Chief stopped.

  She stepped in front of him and wrapped her arms around him. "For taking you away from Olin's side. I'm okay now. You should go over there and be with him and Karla."

  "You took who-knows-what-kind of pills, bug."

  Her stomach rolled but not from the medicine Doc gave her. She never would willingly take his attention away from his son. Believing Chief would be killed if she didn't do what Nene demanded, she'd swallowed the pills trying to save his life. "I'm sor—"

  "You took fucking pills," he repeated, lowering his head and his voice. "Nene is dead on the floor back there, and you took the same shit she had."

  She flinched. "I only took them to save—"

  "It's not your fucking job to save me." He straightened and his gaze intensified. "That's my job to save you, bug. If something had happened to you..."

  The deep-set wrinkles on his face from age and hard living deepened. She raised her hands, stroking his cheeks. "Stop. Don't. I'm here. I love you. I'm going to be fine. Olin is going to be fine."

  The pain etched on his face remained. He closed his eyes.

  She'd never seen him vehemently declare his love to the level he lost control of his emotions.

  She pressed her head to his chest. His heart pounded. She'd loved him forever, to a depth that kept her alive. It wasn't about dependency. He heartened her very existence. No one filled every need she had, ones she never knew existed until they were there, the way he loved her.

  Chief opened his eyes, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. "I love you, bug," he whispered.

  "I love you, too. Always have."

  Voices grew louder in the room. She slipped her hand into Chief's at the change of mood inside the clubhouse.

  Chief turned to the others and said, "Quiet down."

  Karla, positioned beside Olin, raised her head. Tears watered her eyes. "He's rousing."

  No amount of caffeine could compare to the burst of energy she received over the news. She walked with Chief to the pool table.

  Olin rolled his head moaning softly. Chief put his hand on his son's forehead. "Be still, son."

  Johanna looked up at Karla, caught her gaze, and nodded her head. Olin would survive.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  In the bedroom at the clubhouse, Johanna slept fitfully wrapped around Chief. He rubbed her back, wide awake.

  Yesterday, he'd failed to protect his family.

  Making sure nothing happened while Johanna rested and Olin struggled to remain comfortable downstairs, he'd spent all night going from one to the other, worrying as if that would keep them breathing.

  He needed to find Skidd to rectify his mistake. A mistake that would stay with him.

  Half the club was out riding a fifty-mile radius around the club, checking the bars, making contact with associates of the club, getting the word out that Skidd had a mark on his back, put on there by Brikken.

  One man had brought hurt upon his family.

  A forty-five-year-old man who'd been a member of Brikken for twenty-six years ratted the shipment date to the Feds, causing Chief to spend four years away from his legacy. He'd taken away eighteen months from Jett's life. He threatened and stole from Johanna. The same man stabbed Olin and almost killed him. When that man ran, he pulled Chief away from Johanna and put her at risk with Nene.

  She could've died yesterday.

  Olin could've died yesterday.

  If Nene had told Johanna to swallow all the pills to stop Chief from being shot, his crazy-ass bug would've taken e
very single drug with no thought to herself.

  And, he'd done that to her.

  He'd made Johanna love him.

  The second he'd pulled her from the closet and took her to the clubhouse, he'd set their lives together into action. To send her away where she'd be safe and have a life outside Brikken was impossible.

  She was a part of him. He inhaled deeply, taking in her sweet scent. She'd found the good in him he no longer recognized.

  And, one fucking man threatened to take that away from him. A man that Nene claimed was his half-brother. The accusations in the open, if true, meant Rollo made two mistakes in his life. He'd slept with Nene after being with Chief's mom.

  He inhaled through a tight chest. Mistakes Chief wouldn't repeat in his own life, so his sons would be stronger, more powerful, to lead Brikken in the future.

  Brikken needed to be run by leaders. Sons needed to learn from their fathers. From the good and the bad.

  A soft knock brought him out of bed. He looked back at Johanna. She continued to sleep.

  Opening the door, he stepped into the hallway. Keeffe handed him a piece of paper. He read the address, recognizing that it was on the west side of Tacoma in the industrial area.

  "Six of our men have Skidd. They found him at that location. They're waiting for further instructions," said Keeffe.

  He crinkled the paper in his fist. "Have them bring the motherfucker here. I need time with him."

  "I'll make the call." Keeffe looked down the hallway and brought his gaze back to Chief. "I'll get the women out of here before the riders arrive. Do you want someone to escort Johanna home?"

  He needed her. "No, she'll stay. Let Karla stay with Olin, too. All other women leave. Have them take Skidd to the garage. I'll want to deal with him alone."

  "Chief..." Keeffe's mouth hardened.

  He wouldn't change his mind. Right now, only Johanna and Karla heard what Nene claimed. The situation with Skidd went deeper than club business.

  It was personal.

  It was family.

  "It stands." He straightened his beard. "Nene?"

  "They buried her off Brikken land like you ordered. The location will be noted at the next meeting." Keeffe's tone held no judgment. "Anything else?"

  "Make the phone call." He opened the door and went inside the room.

  Johanna slept in the same position he'd left her. He stretched out beside her and took her breast in his mouth. Closing his eyes, he sucked, letting the calmness she brought him wash over him. He needed this. He needed her.

  Everything he'd do today was for the family. He would not let another one of them be hurt by Skidd.

  Johanna caressed his head and placed her leg over his hip. Her naked warmth surrounded him. In a perfect world, he'd be right here, sucking on his woman's breast, her arms cradling his head, her pussy heating the front of his jeans. He'd keep her safe. Happy. Loved.

  Slipping his hand between her legs, he spread her wetness with his finger, and she pressed against his touch. He'd do anything to protect her.

  Set up to fight her fears on her own, Johanna had struggled. He'd taken her from the hardships and softened her world. He'd made mistakes along the way and righted those wrongs. Gave her freedom and pulled her back many times, until she'd chosen him, time and again, passionately.

  He plunged his finger inside of her. The tightness holding him there.

  Johanna pumped her hips, taking his finger deeper, and moaned sleepily. He drew her nipple deeper into his mouth, feeding off her arousal, wanting her to come for the both of them.

  Leaving his finger inside of her, he used his thumb to circle her clitoris. Her body rubbed against him, undulating from head to toe, rolling softly. His cock pulsed to hardness at the plump softness of her breasts pressing against his face. Holding her pleasure in his hand, he brought her to orgasm, her sweetness coating his hand.

  Her rapid breathing broken by a deep pull of air calmed him. Strengthened because of her, he gently let go of her nipple, kissing the redness he created and lifted his head.

  She brought her hands up and held his beard. "Morning."

  He kissed her lips. "Good?"

  Last night, she'd developed a headache from the drugs she'd willingly taken to save his life and the aftermath of expelling the pills out of her body. He studied her perfect eyes, unable to forget the dilated pupils and dullness that had come over her yesterday.

  "My head is better." She stroked his face. "How's Olin?"

  "He slept through the night, and Karla was able to wake him at the times Doc wanted him to take the pain medication. He's in a lot of hurt, but the medicine is helping him relax, and the blood transfusion from Karla gave him enough strength to live." He took in her flushed cheeks and knew that when he walked out the door, she'd be more relaxed because of the pleasure he'd given her. "I need to step away for a couple of hours, bug."

  Her brows lowered. "Why?"

  "Business," he muttered, kissing her forehead. "Stay in bed and sleep."

  She pushed herself into a sitting position. "I'm not tired."

  He stood from the bed. "Then, maybe I should stick my hand between your legs again and —"

  "Don't distract me." She pulled the blanket around her and scooted off the bed. "You're going after Skidd, aren't you?"

  Already dressed, he slipped his vest on and grabbed his pistol off the dresser and tucked it under his belt. "If you need anything Keeffe will be in the clubhouse. Karla's with Olin if you want to check on them. Stay inside until I return."

  "Chief?" She followed him across the room. "Don't leave."

  He paused at the door and took her in his arms. No matter how many times he'd shown her how he always came back to her, he couldn't undo the damage done to her before he came into her life.

  "I will always come back to you." He tilted her head and kissed her softly. "Every damn time."

  She melted against him. He held her tighter. To secure their future, he needed to stay on top of problems that threatened his family.

  He stepped away from her and walked out the door. Catching Keeffe downstairs, he lifted his chin. Everything was set up. His vice president would be in charge of those inside the clubhouse while he concentrated on Skidd.

  Outside, the roar of motorcycles grew louder. He pushed the door closed behind him and walked to the garage as the Brikken riders rode onto the property.

  Surrounded by members, Jett hauled Skidd off his motorcycle, not giving him any chance to escape. While he had the moment, Chief studied the man. The non-descript brown hair like fifty percent of men could be inherited from anyone. Around six feet tall, Skidd was shorter than Jett, Olin, and Thorn. Rollo had been six feet four inches tall, the same as Chief.

  The prominent brow bone and jawline from Rollo that was passed down to him and his boys were absent in Skidd. Though Nene's softer features were more generic and could account for Skidd's smaller chin and flat forehead.

  He walked into the garage and sat on one of the rollaway stools. Removing his pistol, he placed the forty-caliber weapon on this thigh.

  Jett pushed Skidd into the garage. He lowered his chin to his son, welcoming him to the meeting, and watched Jett close the door.

  Skidd backed up, looking around the large area for an escape, knowing there was none.

  "It's just you, me, and Jett. Relax." He lifted his hands, showing them that the only weapon he had was in plain sight.

  Skidd shook his head. "Kill me."

  "I will." He picked up his pistol, stood, and walked forward two steps. "But how you die will depend on the answers you give me. You want to fuck around and bullshit me, I have days to watch you take your last breath. As a member of Brikken, you know how punishment is dealt out."

  Skidd's skin paled. "Where's Nene?"

  "Dead." He walked over and leaned his elbows on top of a roll-away tool cart.

  The muscle in Skidd's jaw twitched. Chief lowered his gaze. "I suppose in her fucked-up way, Nene believed in you to the
end. She came to protect you. Unfortunately, Nene took the coward's way out, going after Johann and the mother to my sons before killing herself with an overdose of pills. What I'd like to know is if there's any truth to the fact that Nene was your mother?"

  Skidd remained quiet, refusing to talk.

  He pushed off the roll-away and walked closer to Skidd. "Who was your father?"

  "Shoot me," said Skidd.

  He chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes, Nene was your mother, considering you want to take the easy way out like her."

  "Fuck you."

  "You have nothing to gain by not answering. You're a walking dead man. Once you're gone, you're gone. You leave nothing behind." He continued looking at Skidd and said, "Jett, take his vest."

  Skidd removed it before Jett approached him and threw the leather on the ground. Chief picked up a can of gasoline and stepped over, dousing the material.

  When he finished, he walked over to Skidd and poured the remaining gas over the man's boots. "Brikken Motorcycle Club was built on loyalty, starting with devotion to family. You swore on the patch, and we've removed it. You're no longer a Brikken member."

  Skidd's laughter lacked humor and ran heavy on fear. "Rollo made sure of that when he gave me to another couple to raise, so don't fucking talk to me about the great loyalty you hold on to."

  Setting the gas can on the ground, he straightened. "There's no proof that Rollo and Nene birthed a son, except the claims of a mad woman and her asshole son."

  Sweat rolled down Skidd's face, his shirt already damp. "He brought me into Brikken."

  "No record of you prior to nineteen years old. There's no proof that Rollo claimed you," he said.

  "He was my father." Skidd gritted his teeth. "Nene whored herself out to him and then you to make sure I had a place here. Do you think she wanted to be your bitch?"

  "And, instead of taking that family loyalty. Taking your place as president after me and before my sons, you decided to go a different route." He stepped toe to toe with Skidd. "You fucking ratted Brikken out with the Feds and sent me to prison. You stabbed my son and almost killed him. You threatened my woman. You are no son of Rollo's, and you are no brother of mine."