Kellen's Redemption (Hell Raiders MC)

by Aden Lowe

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Refusing to be left behind at the Rattlesnake again, Vicki accompanied Kellen to his first stop in the recruitment drive. They headed for a small gallery that displayed and sold the work of local artists. The owner's elderly father carved animal figures from chunks of coal, and his work had recently become highly sought after by folk art collectors. The man's caution at the sight of Kellen's patch made Vicki smile with amusement as she took in everything from handmade quilts to intricate basketry, and paintings to carvings.

  Kellen ignored her fun at his expense and got directly to the point. "We're not here to cause trouble, man. I came to ask your help." He explained the situation quickly.

  The man nodded. "I'm in. Any of 'em come 'round here, I'll blow daylight through 'em." He already had a weapon, an old sixteen-gauge shotgun with an exquisitely carved stock and brass inlays on the breech. "Pap was in the Pacific durin' World War Two. He'll be glad if his gun can teach some more foreigners to stand clear of him an' his."

  Slightly worried, Kellen gave the man Dix's cell number, same as he had the old men at the Speedy Shop. Since the kid was just sitting at the Rattlesnake lusting over Georgie, he might as well keep track of how many of the enemy they bagged and where.

  After a short recruitment period, maybe an hour, he had more than a dozen volunteers. Most owned their weapons, but he sent a total of three to Trip for guns, and two others for ammo. By late afternoon, things were falling into place. Satisfied, Kellen headed back to the Rattlesnake with Vicki at his side, cutting through alleys and backyards rather than wave the grand prize in front of the enemy.

  Hopefully Georgie wouldn't kick them out of the Rattlesnake, since it had become the unofficial headquarters for this thing. Inside, they found Dix seated at the bar, nursing a beer and in deep conversation with the bartender and Georgie.

  As they came near, Kellen caught the tail end of Georgie's side of things. "…don't want a hundred drunk bikers from three separate clubs in here. Disaster."

  "What we talking about?"

  Dix's features settled into a comical look of relief when he spotted Kellen. "Boss, this crazy woman is thinking she can just serve beer only."

  Georgie scowled. "Crazy? Seriously? You do know I can kick your damn ass, don't you?" She turned on Kellen, eyes blazing. "I said I don't want to have a bunch of drunk-ass bikers in here. First thing you know, it'll be world war three, and my girls might not have enough shotguns to put it down."

  Vicki laughed a little and jumped in. "If you need shotguns, I can hook you up."

  Chuckling, Georgie high-fived her.

  "She does have a point, Dix. She can kick your ass with her hands tied." Kellen grinned as Georgie's sullen expression turned into a satisfied one. "Georgie, I'm not so sure about the drinks thing. They're going to want liquor when they come in."

  Georgie shook her head sadly, as if they were dense beyond effort. "Don't you get it? You put three guys in here and get them drunk, somebody gonna get all offensive. Put three gangs in, ever'body drunk, there's a whole big lot of offensive to go around, and it will get physical. We don't need no fucking blood on the floor or cops poking around."

  Huh. Girl was smart, after all. "Well, okay, so you have a point. All right, nothing but beer, and cut them off before they get shit-faced. Any flak comes off it, you send them to me. Deal?"

  She looked toward the ceiling. "Well, thank you Jesus for showing them the light." She threw her hands up and turned to Vicki. "Look out, sweetie. You stay around here long, you'll spend all your waking hours showing ignorant men where to piss."

  "Oh, honey, nothing new there."

  Georgie threw her head back and laughed before she headed off to take care of some duty or other.

  Dix turned to Kellen. "How you want me to handle when the Diablos and Nasty Boyz come in wanting booze? The Raiders will take your say-so, no problem." At least the kid didn't seem to have a problem with being the bearer of bad tidings to the others.

  "I'll go ahead and clear it with Nasty Mike and Ramon. Anybody that objects can take it up with their own Prez."

  The kid nodded. "Alright boss. I'll handle it."

  They went on to discuss the reports which had begun to trickle in via Dix's phone. "How many do we have on ice now?"

  "Three at the moment, and two more spotted. They're getting a little harder to find as the day goes on. One of the Diablos picked up the last one, and the guy told him this whole town will pay, his boss is sending a fucking army."

  Vicki paled a little and looked up at Kellen. "Do you think that's true?"

  He considered a moment. "Possibly. Dix, do we have a rough count how many are here right now?"

  "Best count is a dozen. We can assume they'll start reporting disappearances any time now."

  "Okay. How would the boss figure a few disappearances? Say whoever reports tells him there's a sizable force of badasses here?"

  "He'll think they went AWOL is what. Probably assume they were cowards. He'll likely send replacements, and some extras."

  Kellen nodded. "He'd figure a small show of force would convince us to leave. Because he would reason his people haven't committed anything bad enough here to warrant so many guns out for them. All the full patches here might look like a random event to him."

  "Yeah." Dix paused. "Plus, if he can't put a hundred enforcers on the ground here, he's better off staying small."

  They discussed it a bit more, then Vicki and Kellen found a table and ordered dinner. Watching Vicki eat chili-cheese fries tormented Kellen, as she licked her fingers yet again. What would it be like if all the concerns over the mob suddenly disappeared, and they had nothing to consider but what they wanted? Would she even want to be with him? Probably not.

  Disgusted with himself, he pushed his plate away. Sentimental bullshit. He took a deep breath. "Think you could hang around here and get to know Georgie a little and maybe help Dix with keeping track of sightings and catches? Maybe think about a strategy for dealing with the Russian once we get his enforcers out of the way?"

  She stared at him for a solid minute, golden gaze a little suspicious. "I suppose so. And what are you going to do?"

  "I need to check in with Ramon and Nasty Mike, make sure their guys are behaving in my town, and I need to get with Trip, make sure the Raiders are all doing okay."

  She nodded. "Keep me up to date?"

  "Of course." Kellen stood to leave and, on impulse, bent to kiss her. "It's going to be okay, you know."

  Her hand slipped behind his neck to keep him close. "I know." She brushed her lips against his. "Be careful, baby."

  "I will. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. We'll head back to the house before long and get some rest. Tomorrow will probably be the long day." Temptation convinced him to give in and he slipped his fingers into the back of her hair to tug sharply and leaned in for a deeper kiss. When she moaned, he released her, satisfied. "Be ready later, little girl." He headed for the door before he could make any more of a fool out of himself. He couldn't help but look back. She still sat at the table, looking a little sad.

  The instant the door closed behind him, he did a quick check of his weapons. He needed to go hunt some Russians of his own. It would get his mind off the idiotic emotional shit that wouldn't leave him the hell alone. Careful to pay attention to his surroundings, Kellen headed for the Nasty Boyz' area to check in with Nasty Mike first.

  In the fading evening, he stayed out of sight, taking the hidden paths he'd used as a teen, through Ol' Man Cox's dilapidated garage, and skirting the edge of Jube Macall's overgrown empty lot. Stags Leap never changed. The only thing he remembered different from his childhood was the old Pool Hall. The building still stood, boarded up a few years back, the stones still bearing the watermarks from the Flood of Thirty-Six.

  Cutting through the side garden of Sadler's Funeral Home, where the big hedge cut off view from the street, he spotted movement in the alley that cut through behind the shotgun houses. He froze
to watch a man test the back door of one of the houses, then turn to check if anyone saw him. No way that guy lived in Stags Leap with his baggy jeans below his ass and white sports jersey and fancy sneakers. That more than likely meant he belonged to the Russians.

  A grin crossed Kellen's face. No time like the present to get in on the action. He waited for the man to turn away and slipped through the narrow opening in the hedge. Moving along the backs of the houses, he kept to the shadows and out of sight. As the man pulled a small pry bar from somewhere in his oversized clothing and wedged it into the door frame, Kellen hit him from behind.

  The guy grunted as Kellen hit full force about kidney level and shoved him up against the door hard. Kellen wrenched the man's arm up hard behind his back and jerked him away from the door.

  "That your house, mister?"

  The guy whimpered and shook his head.

  "Then what you doing poking around there?"

  "N-Nothing, just looking around." The odd accent said it all.

  "Buddy, if you think you can come into my town and make trouble, you better think twice. Now come on." With a brutal hold on the man's neck and that arm still twisted as far as it would go without breaking something, Kellen shoved the man along. He held to the back alleys and private paths to decrease the chance of the others seeing, until he arrived at the rear of the old courthouse.

  Built from local sandstone in the eighteen-fifties, the building had a colorful history, from the hanging tree on the front lawn, to the old jail in the basement. The front steps had seen proclamations from various local politicians, speeches from trouble-makers that roused mobs to take the law into their own hands, and at least one shooting. But the back saw the afterhours visits between local lawmen and businessmen with various interests in having the law turn a blind eye. All the really interesting stuff happened there, in the little alcove by the heavy back doors.

  These days, the courthouse mostly served as storage for county records, since the new Justice Center was built in Collierville and the county seat moved there, but the Sheriff still insisted on maintaining his office in the old courthouse. The office no longer kept a full-time staff and really just served as a place where the Sheriff could set up shop if he needed to do business in Stags Leap.

  But the basement held Kellen's interest at the moment. Back when the place was built, the county jail had been housed in the basement. Four prisoners had drowned in that jail during the Flood, and the jail had moved to its own building on higher ground then. But the old bars had never been torn out. Those old cells, dank and dark and all uncomfortable, made the perfect spot to stash some Russian prisoners.

  Kellen also made sure the Raider on guard duty at the beginning filled them in on the history of the place, including the iron rings still mounted inside the cells. At one time, runaway slaves were chained there to await hanging. A couple of hints about the hanging tree on the front lawn would serve to scare the Russians nicely while they waited.

  He turned his prisoner over after a thorough search turned up two handguns and a knife, besides the pry bar still on the back porch of the house the man tried to break into. Ready to head back out and find more Russians, he had to restrain himself long enough to go check in with Nasty Mike and Ramon.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  By the time full dark fell over Stags Leap, Kellen headed back for the Rattlesnake and Vicki. The brief meetings with the other Presidents had gone well. No new invaders had been spotted for some time, and Kellen figured they'd holed up for the night. They would realize several of their compatriots had gone missing and would be wary. Time to pack it in for the night.

  Each club left a number of men on duty in Stags Leap for the night to discourage the Russians from further activity, and headed back for the Raiders clubhouse. At the Rattlesnake, Vicki seemed relieved when he asked if she were ready to go back to the house. Tired, no doubt. She'd had a long eventful few days.

  Kellen wished the ride back would last forever. He'd become accustomed to the way her body fit to his as he took them flying down the road. Just like in bed, she fit him like a glove. And her natural sense of balance, leaning into turns with him while staying snug to his back, made her easy to ride with. He could easily see them riding together on long private trips, just for their own entertainment.

  But the ride came to an end, and as he parked, he already dreaded having to handle all the details headed his way as the Diablos and Nasty Boyz settled in for the night. The settling would probably include plenty of liquor, since Georgie's ban on the hard stuff had been unpopular.

  Several unfamiliar cars sat on the lawn to the side and front of the house. Apparently, the other clubs' women had come along too. Wonderful. Without them, things might quiet fairly soon, but with females along, the party would go far into the night. And he couldn't very well disappear too early.

  He headed up onto the porch, holding Vicki's hand. Rather than sit to talk with Badger, he leaned against the porch rail and slipped his arm around Vicki's waist. "Any problems here while we were gone?"

  Badger shook his head. "Just a little surprise when the Diablos ol' ladies rolled in. Nobody mentioned they had camp followers coming. Got it worked out though. By the time the Nasty Boyz ladies got here, we were ready."

  "Good. Nothing else?"

  "No. Girls are doing good with the house guests, making everybody welcome. How'd it go in town?"

  Kellen considered going over the details, but Vicki stirred at his side, reminding him he had other priorities at the moment. "Trip will fill you in, but it seems to be going well. Georgie didn't even kill Dix."

  Badger laughed. "That is a good thing, at least."

  "We're heading inside, been a long day. I'll head down to the camp later." He led Vicki inside, ignoring all the stares. Everyone expected him to stay in the middle of things, touching base with each of the Hell Raiders and making sure everyone was good. But this time, he just didn't have it in him to babysit. Instead, he continued through and down the hall toward his room

  Vicki stayed silent at his side while he unlocked his door and let them in. As soon as the door closed behind them, she turned to him. "I know you have things to do, but…" She leaned in, fitting herself against his chest, and wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight.

  At a loss for an instant, Kellen finally realized and wrapped his arms around her, sheltering her with his body. He stroked one hand down her hair and contemplated his revelation. She needed him for more than hired guns or sex. She sought comfort in him. The very concept seemed almost ludicrous. How could any woman mistake him for the kind of guy to lean on through hard times?

  Vicki's shoulders heaved a little as she made a small sound. Could she be crying? A muffled half-sob against his chest confirmed it as her tears began to soak through his shirt.

  Some instinct within him he'd never even been aware of brought low words to reassure her while he continued to stroke her hair. That seemed to make things even worse though, since she sobbed in earnest. Protectiveness welled up in him, making him need to soothe her fears. And her tears brought an unexpected response in his body. His cock hardened with the desire to once again make her his, to reassure her that he would take care of her, in that way, and every way.

  He felt silly, getting turned on by her tears. But it wasn't just the tears, it was her need for him that appealed to him in a way he'd never dreamed of. Of course, he was being an idiot. Once he'd taken care of her problem, she wouldn't need him for anything beyond an occasional lay. Better to just shut that off before it got started.

  So he resisted the urge to take her, and settled for comforting her until her sobs lessened and finally subsided. "You okay?"

  She nodded against his chest. "I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me. I'm not a crier."

  "Hey, it's okay. You've had a rough few days."

  "Yeah, that's an understatement." She released him and turned to wipe the rest of her tears away. "I'm going to hit the bathroom, try to repair some
of this damage."

  She reached for the door, but Kellen caught her hand first and drew her around. Uncharacteristically gentle, he lifted her chin with one finger. "There isn't any damage to fix, Vicki. You're beautiful."

  Her cheeks were still damp with tears and the urge to kiss them away overpowered him. Moving slow and deliberate, he brought his lips to her face and murmured about how gorgeous she was whether she'd cried or not. The more tears he tasted, the more he wanted her. When he searched for her mouth, she complied and turned up for his kiss, letting him lose himself in her for a moment.

  A heavy hand pounded on his door. "Boss? The other clubs are here and the Presidents would like to talk to you."

  Well damn. "I'm sorry, Vicki. I have to go."

  She nodded. "I understand. Give me a minute to patch up my face and I'll go with you, if that's okay."

  After her stop in the bathroom, Vicki looked like a million bucks and pride welled up in Kellen at having her on his arm. Sure, it might only last a few days, just while he dealt with her problem, but every moment of having her as his woman made him think about what it might feel like to have an old lady. He'd never even considered it seriously before.

  The Raiders joked that his bed had a revolving door, and they weren't far off. He rarely stayed with the same woman a week before they bored him silly. And yet, with Vicki, that feeling of talking to empty space never came. She listened to him, understood what he said, and contributed to the conversation. Intelligence. That was the difference.

  "Ready for this?" He squeezed her hand a little, aiming to reassure her.

  "Not really. If I get too nervous, perhaps I can imagine them all in debutante gowns. That should take care of it." She grinned up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.