Bedlam: Hell's Heathens MC (Book Two) (MC Romance)

by Raven Dark

  “I’m sorry, Gar. I don’t know why I said that. It just…slipped out.”

  He squeezes my nape. “Is it the truth?” His voice is low and husky.

  The cat’s out of the bag now. I can’t bring myself to lie or downplay my words. “Yes.”

  “Then don’t apologize.” He puts his mouth to my ear. “I love you too, sweetheart.” He claims my mouth in a lingering, hard kiss, smothering my surprised whimper. “Stay out of trouble.” He pats my thighs and winks at me, and then he’s gone.

  I sigh and fall back on the couch with a huge grin on my face.

  Sitting across from me, Barbie laughs. “You got it bad, girl.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  My smile quickly fades when I think about what the guys will be getting up to out there in a couple of hours.

  Please come back to me, my love.

  11

  Firelight

  I can’t sleep.

  It’s almost six in the morning, and I’ve already sat up talking with Barbie, Princess, and some of the other ladies for a few hours. My eyes started getting heavy an hour ago, but I lie awake in Gar’s comfortable bed, unable to get a wink now.

  All I can think about is Gar, and what might happen to him while he’s out there. What if someone is still at the strip-club while they’re breaking in and catches them? What if Sinclair decides to send some of his guys to pounce on Gar and Badger in order to hurt him, or me?

  I toss and turn, unable to shut off my racing thoughts.

  The girls were great. They kept my mind occupied, playing board games and watching movies on the clubhouse’s big screen TV. They kept me distracted, and I love them for that.

  Barbie and Princess warned me that this was the downside of MC life. As fun and hot as it is to be with an outlaw, and as much as that has its perks, the waiting and wondering that comes with the nights when the men take care of business is hard to take. Princess, old lady to Barber, the club’s doctor, told me that Barber often stays out for long hours helping out other clubs when members get hurt. She loves him, but it makes for long, lonely nights. It makes it easier having other women around who get it.

  Now, lying alone in a bed that feels way too big and cold, I try to shut down my fear. They’re just breaking in, not going into a shootout.

  Just breaking in. Having that thought doesn’t even sound like me. A year ago, the biggest thing I would have had to worry about is my grades. Now I have to worry that my boyfriend might end up in prison. Or dead.

  When the door to the bedroom opens, I jerk my head up.

  Gar steps into the room and shuts the door. He’s a huge, leather-clad shadow in the darkness, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

  It takes all my willpower not to leap up and throw myself into his arms. The last thing he needs is to think that every time he walks in the door his woman is going to suffocate him and burst into tears.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” He sits on the bed and runs his fingers through my hair.

  “Hey.” I kiss his knuckles, hoping it’s enough to let him know I’m glad he’s back, safe and unharmed. Moonlight plays across the chiseled contours of his face, making him look even more godlike. “How did it go?”

  His lips quirk, as if he knows how hard this is, that I’m trying to be strong.

  “We got it.” He flicks on the lamp beside his bed, casting the room in a low, soft glow. “There was a video of a girl stealing Max’s wallet right out of his fucking pocket. There was another camera in the locker room that caught her putting the wallet in your bag.”

  I sigh with relief and flop back on the bed. “Thank God. Wait. Which girl? What did she look like?” I’ve never been the violent type, but I’m about ready to strangle whichever of those girls got me into this mess.

  “She had red streaks in her hair. Why, ring a bell?”

  I jerk upright again. “Yes. That’s Sasha. Oh, my God. I’m gonna kill her.”

  “That’s the one who talked you into stripping, right?” His expression is a dark scowl.

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t put it past her to have dropped the thing in my bag on purpose to set me up. She’s always tried to get me into trouble with the owner.”

  “It’s hard to tell from what we saw.” Gar stands up, pulling off his boots and taking the bandana from around his neck. “One camera has her shaking her ass on his lap and slipping the wallet out of his pocket.” He sits back down. “Five minutes later, another one shows her going into one of the bathroom stalls. Probably to take the money out and hide it somewhere on her. Then we watched her come out, put the wallet in your bag, and leave.”

  “I remember.” I gasp. “Gah. I came into work a half hour late that night. I was in such a rush, and the bag didn’t have any valuables in it, so I just flung it onto a hook, threw my costume on, and went on stage. I didn’t even think.”

  “I know. I saw you when we went through the footage.” He smirks. “You looked hot. I hope you kept that thing. I want you to wear it for me sometime.”

  My cheeks burn. Feeling adventurous, I run my hands up his wall of a chest. “Do you want me to dance for you, Gar?” I whisper.

  “Hell, yeah.” He runs his finger along my collarbone.

  The thought of dancing for him is sexy as hell. It’s probably the only time I’ve ever thought stripping for a man would be hot. I become serious. “I swear, I’m going to kill her. I guess we’ll never know if she did it on purpose, or if it was just happenstance.”

  “No, we won’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s in the wind. There was a girl there picking something up when we got there. She—”

  “Gar, someone saw you?” Fear roils in my gut at the thought.

  “Don’t worry, baby. She’s too scared to say shit to anyone. We questioned her. Sasha is long gone. She probably knew the owner would see what she’d done and try to use it against her.” He clasps my hand gently when I open my mouth to speak. “We didn’t hurt her. We just scared the shit out of her. She didn’t know anything useful.” He brushes his thumb over my wrist. “But we’ve got the proof we need to get Sinclair off your back now. Badger put the video file on a burner phone.”

  I sigh and lay back down, running my hand over his stubbled jaw. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” He brushes his lips across my knuckles.

  “So, now what? What’s the plan?”

  “Well, we’ve got a couple of guys out looking for Sinclair now. If they find him, they’ll call. Me and some of the other guys will set up a meet with him. We’ve doubled the security around your family. We’ll have eyes on them at all times.”

  I give a slow, happy smile, my love for him making me almost tearful. I love his club a little, too. Suddenly it hits me that Anne is right. The club is so much more than anything I could have ever dreamed.

  “There’s not much you and I can do until Max is found, so for now, we get some sleep and check in with everyone in the morning.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing all of this for me. Tell Badger and the others thank you, too.”

  “Of course, baby.” He kisses the inside of my wrist. “If I told you what I’d be willing to do for you, I’d scare you.”

  “Maybe you’d better not tell me.” I shiver. Then I bite my lip. “Gar?”

  He rumbles against my wrist.

  “Did you mean what you said earlier? Before you left?”

  He lifts his eyes to mine. “You mean when I said I loved you?”

  I nod.

  He lets out a deep growl and nuzzles my palm. “Fuck, baby, I love you so much it hurts.”

  I sit up, and he’s already pulled me against him. His fingers capture my chin and his lips find mine, devouring.

  When he lifts his head, I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in. “What’s going to happen when you see Sinclair? When you catch him?” I can’t make myself ask what they’ll do to him. He’s the scum of the earth, but I don’t want to
think about what might happen to Gar if things go bad.

  He tips my chin up. “I don’t want you to think about that, okay? The less you know, the better.”

  My breathing hitches. This is the part I’m not sure I know how to handle. The part when club business becomes something it hurts to even consider.

  “Listen to me, okay?” His eyes trap mine. “The guys and I will take care of everything. I’m an old hand at this. I told you, I’m a scary guy, Sandra. I didn’t stay alive this long playing it safe, but when it comes to you, your safety is all I care about right now. You got that?”

  Trying to be strong, to take this all in stride, and yet unsure what to do with myself, I nod, holding him tight. “My monster of a man.”

  “Always.”

  We kiss, and his lips ravage mine.

  We make love, long and hard into the night, until daylight comes.

  Until I can think of nothing but him and me.

  Until I lose myself in him, and there is no fear, no worry, no Max Sinclair, and no terror that I might lose the man I love.

  And until an explosion rips through the night, and firelight flashes in his window.

  “What the fuck.” Gar and I race outside with half the club at our heels.

  My knees give out, and if not for Gar’s arms around me, I’d have collapsed on the clubhouse lawn.

  In the driveway, my car is going up in flames.

  12

  Showdown at Tanner Lake

  I can hear someone screaming, a woman crying.

  Only when Gar’s voice pierces the cacophony of flames roaring and men shouting do I realize the scream is coming from my own throat.

  If I’d had the wherewithal to think through my panic and fear, it would have hit me that I was utterly falling apart, not only in front of Gar, but in front of his entire club, all of which are outside now. But I’m too scared to think beyond two inescapable thoughts.

  One, I could have been in that car when it blew up.

  And two, my family is in a hell of a lot more danger than I thought.

  These revelations hit like battering rams, and I collapse on the lawn, my legs folding under me. Gar drops to his knees with me, pressing my face into his chest, muffling my sobs.

  I want to tell him that I’m scared for my parents, for Kyle, but I can’t get the words out. All I can do is cling to him for dear life.

  “Shh. I know. It’s gonna be okay, baby.” He slips his arm under my knees and scoops me up effortlessly, carrying me back into the clubhouse.

  Behind him, men are still shouting. I hear the men putting out the flames, several rushing the women into the basement to safety, others checking the perimeter for Sinclair or his men.

  There’s no question who did this.

  Gar’s not even halfway into the main room of the clubhouse when his phone buzzes. The caller could be anyone, including one of the guys watching my family, but my blood goes cold nonetheless. He sets me down on one of the couches and with one hand cupping my nape, he answers the call. His voice alone, like an angry predator, would have been enough to tell me who the caller is without Gar growling his name.

  “Max. Where are you?”

  I hear Sinclair’s voice, but I can’t make out the words.

  “When I find you, you piece of shit, I’ll spray your brains all over fucking Whiskey.”

  “Where is the fucker?” Badger snaps, suddenly beside him. I’m touched at the protective anger in Badger’s voice.

  Gar stabs a button on the phone, and Sinclair’s sickly pleasant voice comes through the speaker.

  “…temper, boys. You know I have people who can handle anyone you send.”

  “We’re doing this now. Where. Are. You?”

  “You’re right, we are. Meet me at the usual place. You know where. You have one hour. Bring the girl. Just you and her, Gar. And bring what’s mine. Try anything stupid, and we’ll clean house on you and yours.”

  The phone goes dead.

  Gar’s fist clenches around the phone, then unclenches as if he realizes he can’t break the line of communication between him and Sinclair. He shoves it in his pocket.

  “What did he mean, he’ll clean house?” The phrase sticks out to me even through my fear.

  “It means they’ll shoot this place up,” Barbie snarls.

  My stomach tries to empty itself and I swallow hard. “We have to go. We have to go now.” My voice is shaking.

  Gar kneels and wraps his palm around my nape. “Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t be getting within a hundred feet of him.”

  “But he said—”

  “Listen to me, all right?” He rests his forehead against mine. “The only reason you’re going is because we don’t have a choice. I need Badger and Cal with me. The rest of the higher ranking members are tied up, and I’m not leaving you with the Prospects.”

  The word filters through my panic-addled brain. Anne used it once. Prospects are new members, not yet patched in, and usually given the jobs no one wants. They’re initiates who aren’t yet trusted with more important tasks. I can hear it in his voice—he’s not trusting one of them with protecting his woman.

  Shit, I’m terrified. The last thing I want to do is end up in a showdown between the Hell’s Heathens and whatever Max Sinclair’s men are. But I know he’s right. There’s nothing to do but trust Gar to keep me safe.

  I nod, drawing strength from his grip on my nape, from the confidence and authority in his voice, that of a man who really is an old hand at things like this.

  The next few minutes play out like something out of a gangster movie, only it’s way too real. Badger goes behind the bar. He opens the same compartment he took his gun from earlier, only this time he pulls out firearm after firearm, tossing them to each of the guys.

  My face pales when I see Badger set four guns on top of the bar for Gar. I catch sight of one disappearing into his belt before Barbie sets her hand on my arm.

  “You okay?”

  I blow out a breath as Gar puts another gun into his boot. I give her a nod, squeezing her hand, grateful for her support. I release another breath. “I got this.” I hope I sound tougher than I feel.

  “You do.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Trust me, it gets easier.”

  God, I hope so.

  By the time I look at Gar again, the other two guns have disappeared. I don’t see them on him anywhere, and I wonder where he’s hidden them. Holy shit, he’s a one-man arsenal.

  My jaw drops when Badger hands Cal a long, strange looking knife that I think is called a machete. He stows it under the long leather trench he’s wearing.

  “What the hell is that for?” I squeak, nodding to the weapon Cal just hid.

  “You don’t want to know,” Gar rasps.

  A few more minutes and we’re off, only we don’t take the bikes. Badger and Cal take Cal’s boat of a car, because it’s quiet, Gar informs me. Gar takes me in another vehicle that’s equally quiet. It’s his, and unsurprisingly, it looks and smells new, as if he’s hardly used it. Gar has me in the back, ducked down between the back and front seat with a blanket thrown over me.

  As we set off, I hear Badger mutter something about fucking cages as he gets in Cal’s vehicle, and it occurs to me there was another reason Gar wants to take the cars, other than that they allow him to bring backup that won’t be heard a hundred miles off. It’s a lot less likely we’ll be hurt if someone shoots at us.

  Cal and Badger’s engine fades, letting me know they’ve fallen back, but I know they’re still following.

  An hour later, the Gar stops the car. I sneak a peek over the front seat. We’ve pulled up to an area close to the shore of Tanner Lake, but it doesn’t look like it’s anywhere near Cal’s lake house. Instead, there’s just a large cabin, run down and seemingly long abandoned. That and two cars, one Sinclair’s polished Rolls Royce, and another black vehicle with no plates. Sinclair stands beside his car, arms crossed, casual, along with another guy in a suit.


  My heart hammers in my ears.

  Despite it now being almost noon, the thick trees provide a canopy that make it look almost like night. This is the perfect area for an ambush. My stomach drops.

  “Stay down,” Gar hisses as he cuts the engine.

  I dive under the blanket. For a second, all I hear is the click-click-click of the engine winding down.

  Then…

  “Get out of the car,” an unfamiliar voice calls from the vehicles in front of us. I assume it’s the guy standing with Sinclair.

  “I’m not letting you out unless I have no choice,” Gar whispers to me out of the corner of his mouth. He opens the door and slides out of the car.

  I peek over the front seat when I hear the door shut.

  “All right, Max, I’m here. I have what you want.” He holds up the memory card as he walks slowly toward the other cars.

  “Where’s Blue?”

  My teeth grind at the name. I want to forget I ever used it.

  “Her name is Sandra, fuck-face,” Gar says.

  God, I love him.

  “And you don’t need her,” he adds. “All you need is this.” He jerks his chin at the memory card. “We also have proof that she never took your fucking wallet.”

  Sinclair’s mocking laugh rings out. “Are you in love with her, Gar?”

  Gar says nothing, stopping between the vehicle I’m in and Sinclair’s, hands raised.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised,” Sinclair goes on. “You half-witted troglodytes are into whores, aren’t you?”

  Not rising to the bait, Gar holds out the memory card. “Come and get it.” He reaches into his cut, and Sinclair tenses, reaching into his blazer. My breath catches. Until Gar pulls out a phone instead of a gun.

  Sinclair visibly relaxes.

  “This is your proof.” Gar holds up the phone. “The bitch who stole your wallet is on here, clear as fucking day. Watch what’s on here. Then you can take your pervert videos and fuck off, Max.”

  Sinclair takes a gun from his blazer, holding it in his folded hands in front of him. He nods to the man with him, who steps forward and grabs the items in Gar’s hand.