Crave

by Margaret McHeyzer

  What the hell?! He sold his daughter? What kind of fuckin’ sick, perverted ass sells his kid?

  “Who to?” I ask, trying to hide my anger.

  “Heard it was your boss.” Skinny shrugs as he puts his gun away and takes out a packet of smokes.

  Fucking Cain.

  “If the red-headed one is yours, I’ll take the other one,” he says.

  How does he know about Milina?

  I step back and turn my head to Sarge, who would’ve caught what Skinny said about his woman.

  “Yeah, about that.” I shake my head, indicating he ain’t gonna take her either.

  “Club needs a new whore.”

  “She’s his.” I jut my chin toward Sarge.

  “Pussy-whipped,” Skinny chuckles.

  The tension seems to have lessened though I’m still concerned about how he knows about Milina.

  I turn and walk to Sarge who meets me in a few steps. “We got a mole.”

  “Dark?”

  “Seems the most obvious candidate, seeing as he’s gone AWOL.”

  “Where’s Aaron?” Sarge asks.

  “Had to take care of some shit, said he’ll meet us back at the clubhouse.”

  “What about the Crowes?”

  “Leave ‘em, no issue to us. Except they want our girls, and the farm.”

  “And that’s not an issue?” Sarge lets out a humorless chuckle, and raises his eyebrows.

  “Not now. Our first concern is getting the girls back. Fuck what they want.”

  Sarge nods then steps away without turning his back.

  I walk back to Skinny who’s still smoking and hold my hand out to him again. “Thanks, man.”

  “Heard you were in the transport business now.”

  “Nah, the club’s not up for that.”

  He shakes my hand, and nods, understanding that we’re not gonna undercut whatever the fuck they and the cartel do.

  His club, his business.

  “I’d be watching my members if I were you,” he says, and his tone holds a warning.

  I nod my head once and walk away.

  He clearly knows somethin’ that he’s not saying.

  I know now that the war between the Hunters and the Crowes hasn’t started yet. They want the girls or the farm, and I’m not willing to give them either. But there’s still time to come to a peaceful agreement.

  I flick my head at Sarge, he and the other four club members that came to the meet all get on their bikes.

  We leave in formation to go back to the clubhouse. When we pull up in front I motion for Sarge, who rolls his bike over to me.

  “How’s the arm?” I ask.

  “Hmmm,” standard Sarge answer.

  “I’m gonna go around to Dark’s place and talk to his old lady, see if there’s something she remembers.”

  “Aaron talked to her.”

  “She may’ve remembered somethin’.”

  “When we gettin’ first shipment from Pace?”

  “Next day or two.”

  “I’ll ride with ya’,” Sarge says.

  “Right.”

  Sarge and I leave and head down to Dark’s place.

  When we get there, we knock on the door and Dark’s missus, Tabatha, looks through the glass door to see who it is.

  The skin under her eyes is black and puffy, though there are definite tear stains down her cheeks. She opens the door for us and steps aside.

  “Why aren’t you in lockdown with the rest of the women and the kids?” I ask as she shuffles toward the small kitchen.

  “No one told me I need to go,” she says as she picks up a small silver hip flask and drinks from it.

  “Can you tell me what you and Aaron talked about when he came here yesterday to see where Dark was?”

  Tabatha stops drinking and puts the hip flask down.

  “Aaron?” she asks as she furrows her eyebrows together, giving me a questioning look.

  “Yeah, yesterday, before the explosion, he came to see ya’.”

  “I haven’t seen Aaron in weeks, since the last time I came to the clubhouse for a cookout. What explosion?” she questions me.

  What the fuck?

  I look at Sarge and I see him straighten his back and stick his chin out. He’s fucking pissed off.

  “He said he came yesterday to ask you about Dark,” I say again, in case the alcohol has gone to her head and she’s simply too wiped out to understand. But she doesn’t look stoned or drunk to me.

  “Dark said he had a job with Aaron two nights ago, never came home. I tried calling the clubhouse, and got no answer.” She leans against the kitchen counter, putting the hip flask down. Her hands are shaking and tears are now rolling down her cheeks.

  “Dark said he had a job to do with Aaron?”

  “Yeah.” She nods, but she’s barely holding on. “What’s happened to my husband?” she asks, her body trembling with terror.

  I look over at Sarge, and back at Tabatha.

  “We’ll find out, Tab. Pack a bag, and get to the safe house.”

  She drags her tiny, five-foot body down the hall, I assume into her room to pack.

  I stand for a moment, thinking about what she’s said.

  If Aaron didn’t show up here to ask Dark’s old lady about where he could be…and Dark had a job to do with Aaron two nights ago and hasn’t been seen since…then I can only come up to one fuckin’ conclusion.

  Aaron’s the God damned mole at the table.

  I turn to look at Sarge, who’s obviously come to the same conclusion as me.

  “I’m gonna kill him,” Sarge says, with a fury I’ve never before seen rolling off him.

  “Not yet,” I answer as run my hand through my hair. “He’d know where the girls are.”

  “He’s made his choice.”

  “Agreed. We’ll take it back to the table and we’ll decide what to do. Call the members; tell them to be at the clubhouse.”

  Tabatha walks out wheeling a small suitcase behind her. Her chest is heaving and she looks like she’s about to lose it.

  “Can you get to the safe house on your own?” I ask her.

  She nods her head and swipes at the tears clinging to her red, sunken cheeks. “I’ll be alright,” she says in a tiny voice.

  She really won’t be, but the other women will help her when she gets to the safe house.

  “Go straight there. Don’t stop for gas or anything else.”

  “Alright, J.”

  She rolls her small suitcase behind her and heads out to the garage. Sarge and I leave the house, get on our bikes and wait for her start down the road before Sarge turns to me.

  “A brother who’s fucked us over,” he says, calm, yet highly pissed off.

  In silence, we start our bikes and leave Dark’s house, heading back to the clubhouse. When we arrive, the boys have managed to put up a temporary fence, closing off any unwelcome visitors.

  “Get the prospects to stay outside, and let us know if Aaron shows up,” I instruct Sarge.

  He walks away and he does what he has to as I go inside, grab a bottle of Jack and head into the meeting room. All the members are waiting inside and they’re getting loud and anxious. I walk in, close the meeting room doors, and put the bottle of Jack down on the table.

  “We’ll probably need at least three more bottles to get through today,” I say as I sit in my seat.

  “What’s going on?” Wake asks as he puts his elbows on the table and leans in.

  “Sarge and me met up with Skinny. He told us that it looks like old man Ward sold Phoenix to Cain,” I say as I look around the table.

  “That’s fucked,” a few mumble together.

  “Skinny also said to watch our crew.”

  “What the fuck, man?” Half the table stands in an uproar, ready to start punching.

  “Settle,” I say. But the anger and boom of the guys in the room drowns out my words.

  I pick the gavel up and smash it on the table once, stilling every
one into quiet.

  “If we’re a club divided, we may as well not be a fucking club. You were all sworn in, and each of you has been vouched for. Skinny could be causin’ problems, which is why I don’t fucking want to believe him. But...” I trail off for a second as I reorder my thoughts.

  “But what?” Hash, a member, asks.

  “Sarge and I went to see Dark’s old lady to see if she remembered anything she’d forgotten to tell Aaron when he went to see her.”

  “What happened?” Wake sits back in his seat and brings the bottle of Jack up to his lips as he swigs directly from the bottle.

  “Aaron never went to see her.”

  “What the hell’s goin’ on?” Hash asks. The rest of the members look at me, stunned.

  “Skinny knew that Sarge’s old lady is with Phoenix, which told me we have a leak. And when Sarge and I went to see Dark’s old lady, she told us that Aaron was never there, it confirmed it. Just gotta figure out why. I think Cain’s got the girls.”

  A collective ‘fuck’ is heard through the room.

  “Cain’s fucked up,” Wake says.

  “Yeah,” I confirm. “He is. But first it’s gotta be unanimous,” I say. They all know I’m talking about Aaron.

  “In the ground,” Matt, one of members says, without hesitation.

  “In the ground,” Hash repeats.

  “Dirt,” Wake says, agreeing with the other two members.

  My eyes go to every man at the table, each of them voices a variation of wanting Aaron dead.

  The final vote rests with me.

  Aaron once showed me a way off the streets, got me earning decent coin, and helped me start the Hunters. I have fierce loyalty to the man that helped me drag my beaten and broken body off the streets into this life, and everyone around this table knows that.

  But you choose to die by the life you lead.

  He’s chosen to betray his brothers and for that, he’ll die by his brothers.

  And it won’t be a quick, easy death.

  It’ll be a fight to the very last breath.

  “Ground,” I say with certainty, sealing the fate of the one man I never thought would betray me.

  Grit: Chapter 26

  Phoenix

  I hear the rattle of a key going into the lock and know I only have seconds before he’s inside the door.

  He wants me stripped and on my knees, waiting for him to do whatever he wants with me.

  Or I suffer the alternative; I get sold to someone who’ll make me use my body to pleasure strangers time and time again.

  I don’t want to submit, but I’m also smart enough to know that at this stage, I have to. I strip, right down to nothing, and kneel at the foot of the bed. My hands are on my knees and my head is lowered.

  The cold in the room turns icy and every part of me feels exposed, on display for the sick prick about to walk in the door.

  My body is already heavily bruised and every time I take a nervous breath in, there’s an ache in my side.

  I can feel the tears starting behind my eyelids. They’re threatening to break free, but I have to push on and keep going.

  Until…

  Until I can find a way to finally get away from here. If I gain his trust, then maybe one day he’ll leave the door unlocked and I’ll be able to make a run for it.

  “You’re such a sexy little slut,” his smooth, terrifying voice booms with excitement. I don’t say anything, I’m still hurting from the beating he gave me yesterday, and I don’t want another one today.

  He walks over to me, circling me slowly. A hunter ready to strike against his helpless prey.

  “Stand,” he commands.

  I stand and keep my head lowered. The tears are falling now, and I’m trying to be silent. I don’t want him to know that I hate him, that he’s gotten to me.

  “That small patch of hair has to go,” he says as he runs just his warm fingertips over my shoulder, down my spine to the top of my bottom.

  A shiver of cold bursts through me, despite his warm hands. His malice sends ice through my veins.

  “Open your legs,” he says as he slowly circles to stand in front of me.

  I wipe the tears away from my eyes and my cheeks, and take a deep breath as he waits for me. I step out, spreading my legs.

  He automatically goes for my sex, inserting a finger inside me, slowly trying to coax arousal from me.

  My body sparks awake, though my mind hates him and what he’s doing to me. I straighten my back and look up at him, giving him no emotion whatsoever. He can finger me, or even fuck me, but I’ll hold back what he wants–to see me explode with joy around him.

  “You’re wet,” he says, his voice dangerously low and husky.

  I don’t say a thing to him; I keep that mask of indifference on and look him dead in the eye.

  “You’re wet and your nipples are erect.”

  I don’t look down to see if his words are right. I can feel the way my body enjoys this. Traitor.

  “Does my slut want me to eat her pussy?” he leans in and whispers into my ear. The scruff of his beard is gliding across the sensitive skin of my face that’s still raw from the bruising.

  “No,” I whisper, though I know it’s going to earn me another beating.

  He lifts his free hand to entwine his fingers in the back of my hair. With a hard yank, he pulls my head back, totally exposing my throat to him.

  “Do you want me to hurt you?” he asks, his voice now cold and brutal.

  “No.”

  “Then answer me with the truth, your body is loving me fucking you with my hand. Grind those hips on me and tell me you want your Master’s tongue deep inside you.” He flicks my clit piercing; to emphasize the ultimate betrayal my body is showing.

  “Yes, Master,” I answer, though my mind is screaming at me to stand up to him, tell him he’s a motherfucker and run.

  I don’t want him, or this. I can’t do this.

  I can’t have him do this to me, to tease my body and to keep my mind enslaved with fear.

  “On the bed, slave. Open these beautiful legs and let me eat your pussy.”

  Standing still I fight with every ounce of me, I won’t move until I absolutely have to. I refuse to give in to him and let him rule me.

  I lift my chin and stand tall and proud. Although I’m completely exposed to him, I hold on to my dignity and my mind and will not give him that.

  “On the bed, now,” he says. His tone is vicious and angry now.

  Fuck you! I want to scream it, but I can’t be hurt anymore. I’m still in too much pain from yesterday.

  He grips my upper arms, digging his nails into me and pushes me toward the bed.

  “If I have to ask you once more, if you fail to comply with your Master’s wishes just one more time, I’ll let my entire security team fuck you.” I take in a huge gasp of breath as my body begins to shudder from the magnitude of the terror he’s wakened inside me. “Together,” he adds with a snarl.

  I step back, and go to the bed.

  I can’t control the tears, they’re streaming down my cheeks, and it feels like there’s an endless supply of them.

  I slowly sit on the bed, and look over at him. He takes his suit jacket off, and unbuttons the wrists of his long-sleeved shirt. He rolls the sleeves up and walks over to stand in front of me. Pushing my legs apart he stands between them, discreetly thrusting his hips toward me, showing me the hard-on inside his pants.

  I swallow the huge lump of shame in my throat and lean back on the bed.

  “Open these legs so I can taste my property,” he says as I feel him move closer to me on his knees.

  Sobbing, I part my legs and take another huge breath. I feel his hand on my thigh, as he starts to kiss my sex.

  My tears are hot and constant now. I close my eyes and pray.

  Pray that he’ll take what he wants quickly and then leave me alone.

  And I pray that if Jaeger doesn’t find me soon, that somehow I find a knife
so I can kill the deranged Devil lapping at me with such greedy intensity.

  Grit: Chapter 27

  “What’s happening?” Aaron says as he walks into the meeting room.

  We finished the meeting hours ago, but I’ve been waiting for Aaron to show up from wherever he was.

  “Pace family’s sent out the first shipment. We’ve gotta go inventory it.”

  “When do you wanna do that?” Aaron sits down in his VP chair, his knee bouncing as he looks around the room.

  “We’ll leave in a few.”

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Gone to check on the women and kids.”

  “Just you and me then,” he says as his knee stops bouncing.

  He’s up to something.

  But, so am I.

  “Yep, just us.”

  “I’ll just go take a piss and I’ll meet up with you outside.”

  I nod my head and sit back in my seat, just looking out at all the devastation he’s caused.

  The fucker’s tried ripping the MC apart. Worse still, he’s done something to one of his own brothers. And now, he’s probably making a call to take me out.

  But I still have no fuckin’ idea why he’s done it.

  I stab out my smoke and stand from the chair. Stretching my back, trying to look normal and calm, I walk out of the meeting room.

  When I get to my bike, I see that Aaron’s on his, sitting in idle, waiting for me so we can leave.

  “Ready?” he asks. His tone has some underlying bullshit message he’s trying to tell me.

  “Yeah I am,” I reply, knowing that tonight one or both of us will die.

  I head us out of here toward the shed on the Interstate where we store our guns, but the guns won’t arrive ‘til tomorrow.

  We head up to a set of traffic lights and Aaron rolls up beside me. I’ve already deviated from the usual route to the shed.

  “Where we going?” he asks over the roar of our idling Harley engines.

  “Gotta go to the warehouse first, fast stop.”

  He nods once and looks ahead, straight into the darkness of the night. No emotion, nothing.

  When we get to the warehouse, everything’s dark and appears deserted.

  We turn off the bikes, get off ‘em, and walk over to the side door.