SOULLESS (Black Thorns, #2)

by Franca Storm

  “I need you. Me and Dealer don’t got the sensitive, calm thing with Rox that you got going with her. When we find her, you’re the best bet for convincing her to come back with us. Dealer’s too fucking blunt and we all know I got the temper issue, right?”

  He nods slowly. “Yeah. Okay. I hear you.”

  “Good. Now, how’d you leave it with her?”

  He screws up his face as he tells me, “A fuck ‘n’ chuck. You know my M.O., Ax.”

  Jesus. “Fine. Tell me some shit ‘bout her. I need an in.”

  He thinks for a moment. “She’s got a biker fetish. She—”

  I hold up my hand. “That’ll do,” I say, starting for the door.

  He calls out after me, “What? What you gonna do?”

  Seriously? “What you think?” I say, as I drop my smoke and stub it out with the heel of my boot.

  He looks real uncomfortable and that ain’t a look I’m used to seeing on Smiter one bit.

  “Smiter?”

  “She’s…she’s mine.”

  Didn’t see that coming. Smiter making a claim? “Yours?” I ask, not sure I’m hearing him right.

  “Maybe. I mean, I ain’t…laid down the law there and she dunno it yet, but—”

  I grin. “But you got your eye on her?”

  “Yeah.”

  I slap his shoulder and bring him in for a quick hug. “I’m glad, brother. Been a long time coming.”

  His history when it comes to women is so damn tragic that he really deserves this. Some happiness. Smiter’s a good guy, but he’s been messed up for a long time, cuz of losing the woman he loved a few years back. I can’t even imagine. It’s my worst fear right there and a fear Rox is making way worse with her stupid damn actions!

  I pull back and tell him, “Won’t be long.”

  “Wait! Ax! What you gonna do?”

  I roll my eyes. Really? “Relax. Nothing. I got enough problems with the last woman I claimed as mine, yeah? The woman who ain’t even technically mine right now, but who I’ve just knocked up…again…and just got fucking cuffed to my office by. Yeah? So, I got enough shit going on without me going after some other broad. Just gonna convince her to tell me what I wanna know.”

  He nods. “Okay.”

  Ain’t like him to be so quiet ‘bout shit, but I get that just claiming a woman after all these years is a lot to get his head ‘round. Probably be a long while, too, ‘til this Halle actually even knows that he wants her. He’ll take his sweet time with it. Could be months yet before he even makes a move and seals the deal with her.

  “Stay out here. Won’t be long.”

  He don’t say nothing, just keeps staring into space.

  “Smiter? You gonna be okay?”

  “What?” he asks, his eyes darting to mine. “What, Prez?”

  “You good while I do this?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

  “All right.”

  With that, I take one last look back at him and then walk into Temptress.

  The place is dead. Just a couple of guys parked on stools up at the bar drinking. Guess the entertainment don’t happen this time of day at this club.

  I’m ‘bout to make my way over to the bar and the blonde bartender I see sauntering ‘round behind it, when I hear heels clicking behind me. I turn to see a goddamn model making her way over to me. Bleach-blonde curls and all curves in a red mini-dress that barely covers anything. Her eyes light up as she takes in my cut.

  “Halle,” she says, extending her hand.

  So, this is Smiter’s girl? Damn.

  She ain’t nothing on Rox, though.

  And suddenly, my idea of getting the intel I need through my usual persuasive tactics with women, is sickening to me. All I can picture in my mind is the image of Rox pregnant and me with my arms ‘round her, loving her. Protecting her.

  Shit. I can’t fucking do this now. Argh!

  “Roxana James. You know where she’s at?” I blurt out. Great.

  “Who’s asking?” she says, smirking coyly.

  “The father of her unborn kid.” Okay, guess I’m going for the real blunt approach then.

  Her eyes go wide then and a small gasp escapes her. “My girl’s pregnant?”

  “Yeah. Took off before telling me. Thinks she’s helping me out, but she’s just putting herself in danger. So, you know anything, need you to tell me, yeah?”

  She looks me up and down, checking me out and sizing me up all at once. She’s smart. “You’re Ax.”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiles then. “Rox was so damn smitten with you.” She winks at me. “I can see why. Hot damn. You’re easy on the eyes, aren’t you, baby?”

  She steps into me and grips my cut. Her fingers slide down the length of the leather and she leans into my ear and whispers, “If she hadn’t already snapped you up and if I didn’t already have my eye on your Sergeant-at-Arms, I’d be all over you, baby.” She pulls back slowly, her eyes searching mine.

  Damn, she’s good. Using her intense sexuality as a manipulation tactic while she tries to feel me out. If I weren’t so far gone with Rox, it might actually be doing something.

  “You’re good, sweetheart,” I say, smirking right back at her.

  She grins and steps back, knowing I’m seeing right through her.

  “I need to be,” she says, gesturing ‘round the club.

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  “You want something from me, then I want something in return.”

  Fine. “Name it.”

  ***

  I walk outta the strip club to find Smiter pacing up and down like a goddamn maniac.

  “Hey! Chill!” I call as I approach.

  He stops suddenly and turns to me. “How’d it go?” he asks, anxiously.

  “Relax. She told me what I wanted to know.”

  “How? What did you do?”

  “Jesus, Smiter. I asked.”

  “And she just told you?”

  “Yeah. For a price.”

  “A price?”

  I pull a cocktail napkin outta my back pocket and shove it at him. He opens it to the number and the bright pink lipstick kiss she marked it with.

  “Call the number when we make it back to the clubhouse.”

  “What?”

  “That was the price, Smiter. And I’m gonna be there to make sure you pay it and actually call the woman, cuz, I gotta tell you, she’s got some balls on her, brother.”

  “Shit,” he mutters.

  “Yeah. Good luck with that one. Jesus.”

  “Ain’t no worse than Rox busting your balls.”

  “Yeah, well. We both got problems then, don’t we?”

  He stuffs the napkin into his back pocket and shifts his weight, clearly tryin’ to get a grip. “So, Rox is here then?”

  “Yeah, she’s here.”

  “Where?”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket then. I pull it out and see it’s Dealer calling. “Yeah? What’s the news on Riley? Fucker dead?”

  “Yeah. Just ash now.”

  “Good. Another one down then.”

  “Ain’t all good, Ax,” he says in that ominous tone of his that always leads to something real fucking bad.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Riley died cuz of Rox.”

  My blood runs cold and it’s all I can do to choke, “She killed him?”

  “Not directly, but she’s set something in motion.”

  “What?”

  “Something that’s gonna wipe out your entire hit list.”

  What the fuck?

  “I know where she’s at. The Royale. Meet us there ASAP and we’ll deal with this shit she’s done then.”

  I can’t stand another second of being apart from her, especially knowing she’s got my kid in her and she’s out there alone, not protected by me.

  The sooner I get to her, the sooner I can calm the fuck down again.

  I hang up on Dealer and then tell Smiter, “Let’s ride.”
>
  Chapter 19

  ~Roxana~

  My stomach growls as I make my way across the parking lot of the Royale Hotel where I’ve been staying. I’m heading out to check on the progress of the shit me and Ralph have put in place. I need to see if it’s going according to plan and all the people on Neil’s list are actually warring with one another and destroying themselves after we released what we did.

  Well, my stomach can just shut the hell up, because there’s no way I’m going to attempt to eat another thing when I’m about to climb back on my bike. The nausea has finally left me, so I’m not going to tempt anything, especially not with the ride ahead of me. That, alone, could bring it back on. I certainly don’t want to help it.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and read a text from Ralph: Ax knows you’re at the Royale. Halle gave it up.

  Lovely. Given her weakness for bikers, I’m sure having the President of Black Thorns MC just walking into her place of business, had her giving me up right off the bat. I’m sure Neil treated her to one of his panty-dropping grins, too.

  I stow my phone back in my pocket and breathe a tired sigh.

  I reach my Triumph and zip up my leather jacket.

  The moment I mount it, I hear it.

  Footsteps.

  Urgh. I’m just being paranoid after Malcolm’s creepy threat. Get a grip, Rox.

  It’s a hotel. People are around, so of course there are things like footsteps sounding around me. I’m being ridiculous.

  I grab my helmet off the handlebar and slip it on over my head.

  I’m about to gun the bike when my phone buzzes in my pocket again. I pull it out and see another text. But this one is from Malcolm. As I open it, my breath hitches. It reads: Big mistake crossing me. No one manipulates me. Goodbye, Roxana.

  Oh fuck.

  The asshole played me!

  My mind starts spinning, going a million miles a minute as I try to figure out what the hell his play will be here. What is he going to try to do to me? And, most importantly, how can I stop him?

  I’m so caught up in my anxious thoughts, that I miss the approach coming my way.

  The next thing I know, something slams into me, the force of it knocking me right off my bike.

  I grunt as I hit the concrete hard, just managing to brace myself with my hands so I don’t smash my face into the ground.

  I roll onto my back and that’s when I see them.

  Malcolm’s muscle.

  Four massive guys blending into the night in their black pants and hoodies.

  I flip myself to my feet and pull off my helmet. It’s the only damn weapon I have, seeing as though the terms of my meeting with Malcolm dictated that we both showed up unarmed. I wasn’t going to leave my Glocks in a hotel room, so I gave them to Ralph. They’re at his house at the moment. Shit.

  I do a quick sweep of the guys. No weapons either.

  That asshole.

  I know him. I know why he wanted them unarmed—to make this as painful as possible for me. A quick bullet to the head would have defeated the purpose there. Sick. Sick. Sick. Fucking sadist.

  I eye the four guys, each one of them at least a foot beyond my height and at least double my body weight, too, judging by the muscle on them.

  But it isn’t all about size when it comes to winning a fight.

  It’s about being smart.

  And training—something I’ve had plenty of, thanks to Ralph teaching me all those years ago.

  It’s been a while, though, so I’ll have to play it safe. And not just because of that—because I’m fucking pregnant and about to throw down with four guys. What is it with the timing of these things when it comes to me? Talk about cursed by bad circumstances.

  Well, I’m not losing my baby again! I’m not!

  I’ll see these assholes dead before I let that happen again.

  I ready my fighting stance and one of them scoffs as he steps forward from the other three. “No point fighting back, sweet thing. This is a done deal.”

  Arrogant asshole!

  As he takes another step forward, my opportunity arrives.

  I thrust my steel-toe boot into his junk. He screams out like a little bitch and doubles over—exactly what I’d been counting on. I smash my helmet across the side of his head, knocking him out with the brutal blow. He slumps to the floor at my feet like a puppet that’s just had its strings cut.

  The other three are so stunned that a tiny little thing like me just took down one of their buddies that it affords me the few seconds I need.

  I eye the hotel lobby, adjust my aim, then lob my helmet at one of the huge windows. It shatters on impact, the sound of the violent explosion thundering all around the area. Cheap windows come in handy every now and then.

  Seconds later, chaos erupts as the two security guards come barreling outside into the parking lot to see who the hell caused that damage.

  My three attackers spin around. As they do, I catch the eye of one of the guards and point to them.

  And just like that, they run at them and a brawl ensues.

  Just the distraction that I need.

  I mount my bike again quickly and tear out of the parking lot.

  I’ve barely made it a mile down the road when I spot more trouble in my mirrors. Two unmarked black vans. Shit. They’re tailing me.

  I know right away that I need to get out of the downtown core. It’s a Saturday night and the roads are jam-packed with traffic, making it almost impossible to weave in and out to lose the assholes.

  Fortunately, I know Brockford’s city streets like the back of my damn hand.

  Red lights up ahead are about to screw me over. I glance in my mirrors to see that the vans are weaving in and out of the cars behind me, getting closer.

  There’s a narrow alley to my right that I know leads to the industrial district right by the highway.

  As traffic starts slowing down, I make the sharpest turn of my life, praying I can balance the bike. Cars slam on their brakes and honk in fury at me. My tires screech, burning rubber like crazy.

  It’s a good thing I know how to ride, because I just manage not to come off the bike. I straighten up as I speed towards the alley. It’s really narrow, so I have to hit it just right.

  I succeed, roaring through it at maximum speed, keeping the bike as steady as possible, because there’s only inches of room on either side and if I sway even slightly, me and the bike are done.

  I risk a glance in my mirrors again. The vans are stopped at the end of the alley, too big to get through.

  Bye, assholes!

  As I come out of the alley, I notice they’re suddenly gone. Shit. Malcolm knows the streets as well as I do. If he’s directing them, then I’m fucked. They’ll know exactly where to cut me off.

  I roar through the industrial district towards the highway at top speed.

  As I pass by the construction buildings, shipping yards, lumber yards and a scrap metal facility, there’s no sign of Malcolm’s boys.

  I think I’m home free until I finally pull onto the highway and spot the two vans again.

  What the hell?

  Damn. His guys are good. Too good.

  I look behind me and see guys hanging out of the windows of the vans with pistols in their hands.

  They start getting into it then, firing off shot after shot.

  Holy shit.

  I ride wildly, zig-zagging across the three-lane highway to avoid their bullets.

  The MERGE sign up ahead has my heart stopping in my chest for a couple of seconds. It’ll narrow the lanes too much for me to be able to keep dodging their bullets like this.

  I scan the highway rapidly, looking for some sort of solution, but there are no exits—not for miles after the stupid merge.

  But there’s an on-ramp. That’s incredibly dangerous, but it pales in comparison to my current predicament. Besides, I’m on a bike, so if anyone’s coming down it onto the highway while I’m traveling off in the opposite directi
on, I should be able to pass them without a damn collision happening.

  I’m about to go ahead and do it when something does come hurtling down it.

  A bike.

  It’s roaring down it at top speed. As it reaches the point where the ramp merges to the highway, it suddenly pulls an incredibly fast 180-degree turn, burning rubber like crazy, and then comes speeding towards me.

  I’d recognize that impressive riding and the bike anywhere.

  Neil.

  As he gets closer, I see he has his gun in his right hand. He zooms past me and the next thing I hear are gunshots, followed by the squealing of tires and an awful bone-chilling thud.

  I eye my mirrors and see that one of the vans has gone into the guard rail. The other is sliding down the middle of the road, its two front tires shot out.

  Holy crap.

  The roar of Neil’s Harley has me turning to my right. He comes up alongside me and yells over the thunder of our bikes, “Get off at the next exit!”

  “Okay!” I call back.

  Chapter 20

  ~Ax~

  I rip off my helmet and slam it down on the saddle. I stalk over to her as she pulls up ahead of my Harley on the side of a dirt road just outside Brockford.

  My hands are shaking with adrenaline and rage as I walk over to her. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this angry and worried at the same damn time.

  “You hurt?” I bark at her as she gets off her bike and turns to me. “Rox? You fucking hurt? In any way? Tell me right now!” I yell when she don’t answer me right away.

  “No, I’m fine,” she says, shaking out her windswept hair.

  That’s when I see a mark on her right wrist and nail indents on the back of her hand. I grab it, jerking her towards me in my urgency.

  She gasps.

  “What’s this then?”

  “Neil, it’s fine. Malcolm just grabbed it. That’s all.”

  That’s all? What the hell’s wrong with her? She just tells me that fucker touched her—my woman—and she thinks she can just blow it off like it ain’t nothing?

  I let go of her and take a couple of steps back—for her benefit. My temper is outta control right now. I pull at my hair and roar at her, “You stupid fucking bitch!”

  “How dare you?” she yells right back at me.