Silas_Death Knells MC

by Vivian Gray

  And instead of slowing, the leader barreled ahead. Silas broke out into a run toward their parked bikes when he realized what would happen.

  The frontline Spawn rammed his bike into the farthest parked bike, causing a domino effect that made the Knells bikes go thud thud thud down onto the sidewalk. Tiny and the others shouted as they ran toward their toppled motorcycles.

  And the Spawn still made it out somehow. Whether by careful navigating or sheer luck, they maneuvered their way through the toppled wall of bikes and poured out onto the street, one after the other. As Silas ran to pick up his motorcycle and start chasing the Spawns, he caught a glimpse of Jessa.

  Her arms were wrapped around an asshole Spawn’s body, her big eyes wide and fearful as their gazes locked for a fraction of a second. The bike she was on was buried in the pack, like all the Spawn were guarding her against being rescued. As soon as he spotted her, he lost her again. Anger roared through him, and he pushed his bike up with a growl.

  All his Knells brothers did the same, grunting and heaving to right their fallen motorcycles. As Silas backed his bike up onto the street, he leaned toward Butch, who was closest.

  “You stay here,” he shouted over the din of disappearing Spawn bikes. “And torch the place.”

  The words alone had a calming effect. That, if nothing else, would begin to even the playing field. Let those assholes come home to nothing – because when they fucked with his old lady, Silas would make sure they paid.

  It didn’t matter that they’d married for her protection. It didn’t matter he’d thought that with Jessa it would just be fun until it ended.

  Now she was his. And nobody fucked with what was his.

  His bike sputtered, then he zoomed off, his brothers trailing him in hot pursuit of the escaping Spawns.

  ***

  Jessa pinched her eyes shut against the wind, ducking her head behind the back of the Spawn driving the bike. He’d tied her hands together in front of him, a way to make sure she stayed put. Because God knew she wouldn’t hang on of her own accord.

  She’d seen Silas and the rest of the Knells by the Spawn headquarters as her kidnapper drove off. Just seeing Silas had given her hope. She imagined looking at his face in her mind’s eye… Saw the rough edges of his cut, the square jaw, the way those ice-blue eyes could drill a hole through her. She swallowed hard, tensing as the Spawn swung out to follow a curve in the road.

  If she practiced seeing Silas in her mind, maybe the visualization would help make him real. She drew deep breaths, counting to ten over and over again as she imagined his sturdy body, that same fierceness in his eyes as the morning he’d drawn a gun on her in her house when she’d gotten up too early and scared him.

  He had to save her.

  Her thoughts drifted to the future, trying to imagine what life would look like after this. Planning for regular life again almost seemed like a joke, but she had to think positively. She imagined telling Silas about the baby; what his reaction would be. She imagined herself nine months pregnant and practically bursting. She imagined holding her baby for the first time, and Silas’ joy. She imagined him being a doting father and an even better husband.

  The thoughts jarred a strange warmth through her. Did she want to be with Silas long-term?

  The motorcycle slowed slightly, and she looked up, trying to gauge where they were. Everything looked unfamiliar. Skinny trees lined the road, and the pack of bikes surrounding her had thinned considerably. Behind them, there were no Knells.

  Her heart in her throat, she craned her neck trying to see where they might have gone. How they could have disappeared? The road dipped and curved more frequently, the air chillier here because of all the shade from the towering birch trees. She turned around, chest rising and falling as she tried to concoct a scenario in which the Spawn could have lost the Knells.

  So much for visualization. She’d been lost in la-la land so hard she missed the important events around her. She fought tears, panic sinking into her, making her limbs heavy.

  Seeing Silas and the rest of the Death Knells in hot pursuit had convinced her everything would be fine. Of course Silas would come to her rescue. Of course the bad guys couldn’t win. Not when the Death Knells were the good guys. Not when Silas was so strong, and sure, and commanding.

  But now, she wasn’t so sure.

  Klay’s bike slowed again, and he took a hard turn into the parking lot of a little motel. Gravel sprayed behind them as he maneuvered into what looked to be an abandoned motel. Maybe Wicked Spawn owned this spot. Who knew what number of hidden setups they had throughout their territory. Which would make hunting Jessa down all the more difficult for Silas and the brothers.

  Klay pulled into an empty spot facing the weathered building, each dingy door boasting peeling numbers. When he cut the bike, he turned to Jessa and silenced her with a look.

  “If you scream, I’ll kill you.”

  All she could do was stare back at him. His threat had cut deep, and she knew better than to test him. Besides, if she screamed, would anyone hear her? She glanced around. Birch and pine trees lined a lonely highway, with a mostly dark motel; the front desk probably empty, abandoned. This had to be one of their safe spots – Jessa knew all about those growing up in an MC. So, she was about to be off the map. Probably the phones didn’t work inside; they’d be lucky to have plumbing. The perfect spot for the Spawn to do what they wished with her.

  She swallowed back a tight knot of anxiety. Being alone in yet another tiny room with this man, or any of his club brothers, sparked a desperate, hot fear inside her. She could only imagine the ways they might pass her around. The unspeakable things they’d perform in order to get back at Silas.

  Tears pressed at her eyes. A few spilled out, but Klay didn’t care. He undid the knot at her wrists but kept her locked under his grip, jerking her off the bike so hard she almost toppled to the ground. He led her toward one of the doors, fishing a key card out of his pocket. He swiped the door open and pushed her inside. She stumbled into the poorly lit hotel room, a musty smell washing over her. She hugged herself as she watched Klay and a few others file in.

  When the door shut behind them, her stomach turned into an iron fist. Here it was. The moment they finally raped or killed her. Maybe they’d live stream it just for fun, her last moments broadcast to a willing public. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to make peace with it.

  As long as the baby made it out okay. If she didn’t struggle, it might help the baby survive.

  Klay spun her around, pushing her toward the bathroom. He flicked on the light and the fan, and then shoved her inside.

  “Make sure you get ready for us.” He licked his lips and made a display of grabbing the grimy crotch of his jeans. “Because we’re gonna have a lot to give you.”

  Just as Jessa pulled a face, he slammed the door shut. A scraping from his side of the door told her he’d locked her inside somehow.

  She stood, chest heaving, staring at the door. Was that it? Would they just leave her here? Oh Lord, if only she could get so lucky. From outside, she could hear the low undertones of voices. An occasional laugh. She sat rigidly on the edge of the bathtub, too anxious and scared to relax. Every minute that passed without assault was a miracle. But it couldn’t last forever.

  Maybe this was worse than something actually happening to her. The not knowing. The planning and wondering. She balled her hands into fists, every cell of her body stiff and alert.

  And then she closed her eyes again… and practiced seeing Silas.

  Her husband. Her lover. Her savior.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Silas could barely think straight for the first few hours after the Spawns threw the Knells off their tails. The assholes had been too ingenious, leading the Knells to a fork in the road and forcing the Knells to split up or take a gamble.

  Silas took a gamble. They’d been moving too quickly, and Silas thought he knew where Jessa was between the two groups. And if any fight
broke out, he’d need all his men behind him.

  But he’d fucked up. He chose wrong. And the Spawn pod he’d followed had led them right back into town. A dead end.

  The only consolation prize Silas could conceive of was the fact that sooner or later, the Spawns would know their clubhouse had burnt down. He almost wished he could orchestrate the big reveal, like the way some people threw surprise parties. What he wouldn’t give to see their bastard president cry like a baby. After Silas got done beating him to a pulp, of course.

  He and the club brothers were parked at a gas station on the outskirts of town. Time was slipping away, but he had no idea where to go from here. The wrong choice and it could cost them Jessa’s life. But if he continued making no choice, it was as bad as making the wrong one.

  “Boss.” Tiny sent him a worried look as he propped his elbows up on his handlebars. “We need to hit the road, one way or the other. It’s getting dark soon.”

  Silas ran a hand over his head, anxiety wrenching his insides. They’d come so far, it seemed stupid to go home. Enough brothers were back at the clubhouse, they could keep watch.

  “We need to stay here,” he finally said, “or at least nearby.” His gut had been in a constant state of upheaval since discovering Jessa had been kidnapped. Somewhere between the flu and the worst hangover of his life.

  “I saw a motel a few miles back,” Butch offered. “Wanna crash there?”

  Silas nodded, and the group headed out. The evening air was rapidly turning dusky, a little chill biting at his forearms. Silas drew deep breaths, trying to keep his mind from imagining the worst. From being realistic about what those Spawn assholes would do to his Jessa.

  Up ahead, the motel sat squat and unimposing. Blue siding had faded to a color not found in any Crayola box. Silas and the brothers formed a long row with their bikes. While Tiny went inside to talk to reception, Silas leaned against his bike, sighing heavily.

  “I can’t believe I let them get away,” Silas muttered, voicing the thought that had been repeating itself nearly a billion times in his headspace.

  “We’ll find her,” Butch said quietly, squeezing his shoulder. “We got this far; we ain’t going home without her.”

  Silas’ throat squeezed as an unsavory thought butted its way into his head: Hopefully she comes home with us alive.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. The county road the motel sat on was somewhere deep in Spawn territory, but a part of their county Silas didn’t know well. The Spawn had used this to their advantage. They had the upper hand here, and now that Silas was lost he didn’t even know which way made the most sense from here. Every direction was fair game when the Spawn had carried Jessa to an unknown destination.

  Worries made sick swirls inside him. Only when he heard the rumbling of a bike did he look up.

  It wasn’t one of their bikes, but rather, someone zooming down the road toward the motel. Silas perked up, breath sticking in his throat as the bike sped past, leather kutte plain as day, even in the waning sunset.

  “That was Spawn,” Silas said, his voice a croak as he fumbled to swing his leg over his bike.

  Butch immediately climbed on his own bike. Silas peeled out of the gravel parking lot in a cloud of dust, his racing heart setting a fast pace as he gunned it after the disappearing bike.

  He didn’t know where he’d end up, but he’d follow that motherfucker until he couldn’t anymore. If it weren’t for these Spawn assholes acting up, he’d be sitting with Jessa at home right now. Maybe on the couch, or in bed already, massaging her legs, or tugging playfully at her panties. Maybe making her chicken noodle soup – if she was still sick.

  The thought made him ride harder. They weren’t taking her away from him, not for much longer. Not when he’d managed to find the one sweet, pure thing in his life. A love, against all odds.

  His eyes burned with unshed tears as he caught up with the Spawn. A lone rider. The Spawn had noticed him by now, and his driving became erratic. Weaving across the road, like escaping imaginary obstacles, passing traffic on both sides.

  Silas kept pace, weighing his options. The road petered out to mostly woods and the occasional semi after a while. He glanced behind him – saw just Butch and one other Knell trailing him. Silas unsheathed his pistol, keeping it low at his side as the Spawn continued to race ahead of him.

  Shooting the fucker’s tires out might be the only chance he had. Even if this were a wild goose chase – taking one Spawn down would do a hell of a lot more for morale than wringing his hands all night in the motel.

  The waning daylight made it hard to keep focused on both the curving road and the lines of the Spawn’s motorcycle. But Silas lined up the shot. Pop. He missed, the bullet glancing off the side of the bike’s fender.

  But the Spawn was on to him now. He started driving more erratically. Silas couldn’t focus the shot and keep himself upright at the same time. He cursed, and then took a shot. And another. Both misses.

  From behind, Butch gave it a go. His bullet missed entirely. Silas gripped the handlebars tightly, the leather gloves suctioning to his knuckles. There was no fucking up this time. He had to get that Spawn.

  He lined up the gun and took the shot. The bullet hit the back tire. Success. The tire popped loudly, rubber deflating and reduced to a flapping, useless mess. Silas quickly caught up with him and shot his front tire for good measure.

  Butch and another club brother, PJ, flanked the Spawn; the four of them guided him off the side of the road, and before he could do much of anything, Silas had him by the collar of his jacket. Somehow Silas managed to park his own bike and not let the bastard Spawn escape. He yanked him off the bike while Butch and PJ oversaw with their arms crossed.

  “Where are you going, friend?” Silas punched him in the gut, pleased as he groaned and doubled over.

  “Nowhere,” he gasped out.

  “Then how about you tell me your name?”

  “Fuck you,” the Spawn muttered.

  Silas socked him in the gut again, and this time the Spawn coughed.

  “Now I’ll ask you again. Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere,” the Spawn insisted.

  Silas sighed, tightening his grip on the neck of his jacket. “I don’t like being lied to. And more than that, I don’t like being stolen from. Or cheated.” Silas reached for the gun stuck in the waist of his jeans. “But what I really hate, above all that…” He released the trigger of the gun, bringing it up to the Spawn’s temple. “What I hate more than all of that is when Spawn motherfuckers kidnap my old lady.”

  Silas pressed the barrel of the gun harder to the Spawn’s head.

  Fear flashed across the other man’s face, and he wilted a bit. “I don’t know anything, man,” he said.

  “Bullshit. You were on your way there now. Where else could you be going?”

  “Headquarters.”

  “And more bullshit. The place is torched, and you know it.” Silas kneed him between the legs.

  The Spawn doubled over, his dark hair matted to his forehead from sweat. While he was bent over, Silas pushed him to the ground, pinning him there with a knee to his chest.

  “I don’t want to have to kill you,” Silas lied. “I just want to make you suffer, like my girl is suffering.”

  “I swear I don’t know anything about your girl.” The Spawn’s chest was heaving, looking up at Silas with pleading eyes.

  Silas looked up as the headlights of a semi crested the road. He leaned back a bit until the truck passed, then realized they needed to take this party elsewhere. He couldn’t properly deal with this asshole the way he needed to on the side of the road.

  Silas forced him to stand, jamming his gun into the small of his back to lead him toward the trees lining the road. Butch and PJ followed closely behind, faces expressionless as Silas pushed the guy into the woods.

  The Spawn broke into a run suddenly, gunning for an escape. Silas shot him in the foot without even thinking. The second Spawn
that day to come down from a gunshot wound in the foot. As the Spawn lay writhing on the ground, Silas strutted up to him, grinning.

  “Now.” He knelt down beside the Spawn, patting the kutte and the pockets of his jeans as he looked for a wallet or phone. “How about we call your president?”

  The Spawn shook his head, trying to jerk away from Silas’ wandering hands. But the Spawn couldn’t ease his aching foot and wriggle away from Silas at the same time. Silas finally found his wallet and phone buried in the same pocket. He fished them out, signaling for Butch and PJ to come hold him down.

  Silas flipped through the wallet, squinting to read the small print on the ID. His legal name was Jack. Silas laughed, tossing the wallet down onto the ground beside him.