JUDE: Lords of Carnage MC

by Daphne Loveling

  A sob escapes my throat. “Poor baby, I’m so sorry!” I whisper, and another sob wrenches from me. I resist the urge to pull the cat into my arms, but only because he’s still eating and I don’t want to stop him. “You poor thing,” I moan. “You poor, poor little thing.”

  “Looks like he’s seen better days,” Jude says from behind me. Spike tenses at his voice, but Jude keeps his distance and after a second Spike resumes devouring his food.

  “Jude,” I choke, turning my face up to him. “I can’t leave him! He doesn’t have anyone but me. Do you…” I squeeze my eyes shut, hating to ask a favor but unable to stop myself. “Do you think we could take him back with us? I’m so afraid he’ll die if I leave him here. Please! He needs me.”

  I cringe, expecting Jude to refuse me and not knowing how I’ll be able to stand it if he does.

  He stands there above us, eyes moving from my tear-stained face to the grungy fur ball I’m crouched next to.

  “Sure,” he says.

  I can hardly believe it. “Really?” Fresh tears start coursing down my cheeks.

  “Yeah, really.” He flashes me a grin. “I’m pretty sure Angel ain’t gonna refuse a woman, especially if he thinks Jewel will rip him a new one if he does. If he’s got a problem with it, just promise him the cat will stay in your room.”

  Once Spike has finally stopped eating, I hand Jude the kibble and carefully gather the little cat into my arms. I’m nervous that he won’t tolerate being picked up or carried, but to my surprise he clings onto me with his claws like he’ll never let go and bumps his head against my chin. We get him to the SUV, and I climb into the passenger seat with him Jude even finds a clean but ratty towel in the very back to wrap around him. Spike settles onto my lap and immediately closes his eyes, purring loudly.

  “Looks like he’s good with the decision,” Jude remarks.

  I’m still struggling not to cry, and push down a lump in my throat. “Thank you for letting me do this,” I say tearfully.

  “There’s nothing to thank me for.” Jude pauses, and lifts his chin toward André’s place. “Hey, you have a key to the house?”

  “Not on me, but there’s one hidden outside. Why?”

  “I just figured that since we’re here, if you wanna go in and grab a few things, you may as well.”

  I gaze down at the purring, contented cat. Spike should be fine for a couple of minutes wrapped up in his towel. “That’s not a bad idea.” The prospect of having a few of my things is really tempting. I could fit all the stuff I really want to take with me into a backpack, and none of it would be anything André would ever notice was missing. “You stay right here, okay?” I whisper to Spike. Carefully, I wrap the towel a little more snugly around him as Jude gets out of the car and comes around to my side. He opens the door, and I put the little cat burrito on the seat and close the door behind me.

  The spare key is under a loose piece of cement in the cracked foundation near the front door. I bend down and grab it while pretending to tie my shoe, and Jude waits as I put the key in the lock and open the front door as noiselessly as I can. I step inside, and he steps in behind me.

  “Hello?” I call into the silent house. It smells musty, and a little rank, like spoiling garbage. I look back to see Jude has gone into high alert mode. His eyes dart around, scanning the room. One hand is raised — poised, I think, to reach for a weapon. We stand, silent and unmoving, for a few seconds.

  I nod. “It’s fine. He’s at work, like I told you. But let’s make this quick. It’s kind of giving me the creeps to be in here.”

  Jude lets me go first, and follows behind as I walk through the hall into my old bedroom. I grab the beat-up backpack that’s hanging from the back of my doorknob and then go to my dresser. Jude moves off, presumably to check the rest of the house.

  I shove shirts, a hoodie, some jeans, and a few pairs of underwear and bras into the pack. I grab my favorite leather jacket and tie the arms of it around one of the shoulder straps. I contemplate taking my cell phone with me, but decide against it. Finally, I open the drawer to my nightstand and grab a small box. Slipping it inside the bag, I zip it up, then stand. I’m just about to call out to Jude that I’m ready to go when he calls to me instead. The way he shouts my name is strange — almost angry. Like a warning.

  “Coming,” I call back, and start down the hall toward him.

  “Stay back!” he barks. His voice is coming from the kitchen.

  Uncertainly, I slow my steps, not sure whether to obey his voice or his words. “What is it?”

  Jude comes through the arch into the hallway. His eyes, cold and hard, lock on mine

  “It’s André,” he says.

  My heart leaps into my throat. “He’s here?” I gasp.

  “Yeah,” Jude says grimly. “But he ain’t here.”

  “What?”

  Wordlessly, Jude takes my hand. His grip is almost gentle. He leads me slowly to the kitchen doorway. The smell of decaying garbage — meat — gets stronger.

  And when I see what’s on the floor in the kitchen, I realize why.

  André’s body — throat slit from ear to ear — lies on the floor, in a pool of dark crimson.

  11

  Jude

  “It was a message,” Lila murmurs softly as she strokes the emaciated cat in her arms. “It had to be.”

  Beast frowns at her from his chair opposite her bed in the small clubhouse apartment. “A message? We can’t be sure about that, Lila. Hell, we can’t even really be sure this is retaliation for Pecher’s murder. From what you’ve told me, André had his hand in tons of illegal shit.”

  But Lila shakes her head. “I slit Pecher’s throat.” She shifts slightly on the mattress, looks from Beast to Angel, and then to me. “So his men must have come to André’s house to find me. They slit André’s throat as a signal.” Her voice cracks. “Revenge. An eye for an eye.”

  Angel clears his throat. “You said only one person saw you that day other than Pecher. The old lady. You can’t be sure the people who came for André didn’t think he’s the one who killed Pecher.”

  “But we can’t be sure of the opposite either,” I point out.

  “I was surprised there weren’t more bodyguards around when I went to deliver the package to Pecher,” Lila breathes. The cat in her lap butts its head against her hand. “Afterwards, I realized there were probably cameras around. They probably have video of me going in and coming out.” Tears spring to her eyes. “I can’t believe they killed André because of me. I mean, I didn’t like him, but…”

  “Liles,” I cut her off, my voice harsher than I mean it to be. “The motherfucker put you in that situation. André never should have sent you in alone. You aren’t responsible for what happened to him.”

  “Jude’s right,” Beast says gruffly. “André was a piece of shit to do that to you. He got what was coming to him. Do not fucking blame yourself for saving yourself, Lila.” He jabs a finger at her. “You got that?”

  Lila doesn’t respond.

  “So, what about the body?” I ask Beast. “Do we need to do any cleanup?”

  “What about it?”

  “I mean, it’s a crime scene, right? Eventually, someone’s gonna find André. The police are gonna get involved. His car is still in the Walmart lot, by the way. I drove us by there on the way back. Hasn’t been moved.”

  “You got prints on the car?” Angel asks me.

  “Yeah. Gonna have to take care of that tonight. I wiped my prints from the house when we found André. Lila’s will be all over the place, of course, but that’s normal since she lived there.”

  Angel thinks for a minute. “No. We leave the body there. If Pecher’s men go back and the body’s gone, they’ll know someone’s helping Lila. For now, we wait. And keep an eye on the papers and the local news. If and when the cops find André’s body, we’ll know. And at that point, we’ll know to keep Lila outta sight.”

  Beast looks at me. “How long you think Andr�
�’s been dead for?”

  “At least a day. Probably no more than two.”

  “Okay.” He claps his hands on his knees decisively, which startles the cat and sends him scurrying under the bed. “Shit. Sorry,” he mutters. “Angel, Jude, I got some other shit I wanna talk to you about. Let’s go into the chapel. Lila, get some rest, okay?”

  “I will,” Lila says, sounding obedient and subdued. “And Angel, thank you for letting me keep Spike here. I promise he won’t be any trouble.”

  We leave Lila and file into the chapel. The door is barely closed behind us when Beast explodes.

  “Goddamnit,” he shouts, running a rough hand over his face. “That poor kid has been through more in eighteen years than most people in a lifetime. Now at the least, she’s gonna be wanted for questioning by the cops once they find André’s body.” He gives Angel a haggard stare. “You think we need to get her out of town?”

  “Maybe. Eventually.” Angel’s eyes narrow. “But for now, she’s as safe here at the clubhouse as she is anywhere. She’s got more people around to protect her than she would anywhere else. If we have to, if things heat up, we could send her to the safe house at Connegut with some protection. But right now, I’d rather keep her close until we know what the fuck is going on.”

  “Jesus, this is gonna break Brooke’s heart.” Beast shakes his head. “Brooke has always thought of Lila kind of like a daughter, I think especially since we don’t have kids ourselves. It killed her when Lila stopped coming around. At least now that she’s shown up again, Brooke’s been happy to know she’s safe. But now…”

  Beast’s face turns stony. After a moment, he clenches his hand into a fist, pounds it once against the table.

  “From now on, now that Lila’s back, she’s one of us,” he orders. “As far as the club is concerned, she’s no different from any other kid of any of the other Lords. We protect her, no matter what.” He turns to me. “You’re her bodyguard, Jude. You stick to her like glue, you hear me? She doesn’t go anywhere or do anything without you talking to me about it first.”

  “Got it.”

  “Speaking of family, does Lila have any?” Angel asks. “Other than her dead mom? Wonder if it’s worth tracking them down.”

  “I think she’s got an aunt who doesn’t want her,” I say. “I don’t think she’s had any contact with her in a long time. And she mentioned having a dad out there somewhere. But she hasn’t seen him in years, from what I can gather. I’m not even sure she knows where he is.”

  “Wonder if we should do some recon on the dad, just in case,” Beast muses.

  “Good idea. Best to have all the intel we can.” Angel leans back in his seat. “You wanna ask Lila what she knows about him?”

  Beast pauses. “No. Not yet. That kid’s had enough bullshit to last her for a while. I’ll see what Brooke knows, and follow up with Tweak to have him learn what he can. Maybe we can locate him without needing to bother Lila about it, in case what we learn isn’t good.”

  We break up the meeting, and Beast claps me on the back silently as we leave the chapel. Pensive, I walk down the hallway toward our apartments to check back in on Lila. I knock softly on her door, but there’s no answer. I decide to risk pushing it open, and there she is, asleep on the bed. Spike the cat is curled up by her side. That huge fucking stack of books is piled on the small night table, dwarfing the thing.

  I let out a soft breath. I’ve never seen Lila this peaceful. The girl I know has always been in perpetual motion, ever since I met her. I can’t help but think about the spark plug she was when we first met. Now, five years later, she’s got just as much crackling energy about her. She’s also about a hundred times tougher.

  And a hundred times more beautiful. Even with that broken nose of hers.

  As I watch her sleep, Spike the cat opens an eye to look at me, then rolls on his back and does a long, languid stretch before curling back up against Lila’s hip. It puts an unexpected lump in my throat. At least she’s got that little furry friend to make her feel less alone. Shit, it almost broke my fuckin’ heart, to see how Lila’s face got so hopeful when she asked me if we could bring the cat back here. That girl expects so little out of life, and out of people. I’d give anything to change that.

  Fuck. If Lila was awake, she’d pound my ass if she knew I was feeling sorry for her like this. If it’s one thing I know about her, it’s that she doesn’t take pity or charity well. The fact that she’s accepting both of them from the Lords right now tells me everything about how dire her situation is.

  Quietly, I close the door behind me. I go back out into the main room of the clubhouse, and grab a beer and a shot of whiskey from the prospect behind the bar.

  And spend the next half-hour or so drinking, and thinking about the enigma that is Lila Dunn.

  12

  Lila

  In the days that follow, the only thing that stops me from going stir crazy is having Spike around.

  Beast brings me a burner phone with Brooke’s and his numbers saved on it, and tells me Brooke is waiting for me to call her. When Brooke hears about the cat, she immediately goes to the store for me and comes to the clubhouse with wet food, a litter box, a bag of litter, and some cat toys. Poor Spike doesn’t seem to like being cooped up much, but he tolerates it in exchange for the upgrade to his diet and a soft bed to stretch out on. I was afraid at first that he wouldn’t be litter trained, but it turns out I didn’t have anything to worry about. I think there’s some weird primal thing in cat brains that makes them born knowing that sandy, gravely stuff equals a kitty toilet. As soon as I set out the box and put a layer of litter inside, Spike goes in, digs around in it, and immediately does his business.

  There are a couple of other items Brooke brings me from the store, also at my request: a pair of scissors and a box of hair dye. I’m nervous as hell about Pecher’s men finding me, but even I know I can’t possibly stay hidden away in this clubhouse forever. I’ll have to go outside again eventually, or I’ll go completely mad. And my most recognizable feature by far is my long mane of curly red hair. It’s got to go, that much is clear. So, I take a deep breath, ask Brooke to give me a pixie cut, and then have her help me dye it a deep brown that’s almost black.

  When I finally rinse the dye out of my hair and towel dry it, the face that looks back at me in the mirror is almost unrecognizable, except for the residual bruising from my healing nose. Without all the hair surrounding my face, my eyes seem twice as big, all of my features more pronounced. My skin is even more pale next to the dark hair.

  “Oh, Lila, you’re so beautiful like this!” Brooke breathes as the two of us gaze at my reflection. “Your complexion is perfect with the darker color. Who would have thought you’d be such a natural brunette?”

  Even I have to admit that my new look is flattering. One thing is for sure: I definitely look older. I reach up and touch my cheek, fascinated by this person in the mirror who both is me and is not me. It’s almost like I’m getting to push a reset button. As though I can pretend for a moment that the past that’s dragging after me like a ball and chain isn’t there. I feel lighter, and it’s not just because the weight of my hair isn’t there anymore.

  So far, there’s been no word in the news about anyone finding André’s body. Apparently, his car is gone from the Walmart parking lot, but Jude checks into it and finds out it’s been towed to the impound lot. A couple of times, I ask Angel whether he has learned anything more about André’s death, but he just tells me not to worry about it.

  “The club is looking into it,” he says. “If there’s anything to report that you need to know, I’ll tell you. Until then, just put it out of your mind, Lila. You’re safe here. All you have to do is make sure you don’t go anywhere without one of the Lords to protect you.”

  Not being told what’s going on makes me want to scream. But at the same time, it’s almost a relief to have the whole thing taken out of my hands. It may be the first time in my life that it feels like
someone else is looking out for me. It’s definitely going to take some getting used to.

  A week goes by. I read all the books I checked out from the library. I hang out a little more in the clubhouse itself, and less in my room. It starts to feel a little less weird and a little more like home — or at least as much as home as it can feel for someone who isn’t actually part of the club. The Lords are more than welcoming, which makes me feel grateful and even a little humble.

  Beast, especially, makes an effort to check up on how I’m doing. The first time, he just says, “Lila, you doin’ good?” in passing one day, and I give him a quick thumbs up. But then later, he comes and sits down with me on one of the couches while I’m reading a book.

  “Hey,” he rumbles, leaning back against the cushion next to me.

  “Hi.” I lower the book and close it, feeling a little alarmed. Beast has an expression on his face I can only describe as… weird. “Is something up?”

  “What? No, no.” He pauses. “I was just, ya know… Just wanted to check in with you a little. See if you’re doin’ okay.”

  “Sure.”

  “You sure?” Beast frowns at me. “‘Cause I know stuff’s been a little rough lately. You’ve been through a lot in the past little bit. Stuff that might take down anyone. Just wanted to tell ya, I get what it’s like. It’d be okay if you were havin’ trouble… processing it, or whatever they say.”

  For a second, I’m not sure what he’s talking about, and then it hits me.

  Beast is telling me he knows what it’s like to have killed someone.

  Not only have I killed a man. I’ve been indirectly responsible for another one. That makes two deaths that I’ve caused. Whether they were good people or not, they aren’t on this earth anymore, because of me.

  My throat feels like it’s closing up. I turn away from Beast’s concerned expression, so he won’t see what’s in my eyes, so he won’t try to read my thoughts. How André’s lifeless face comes to me in nightmares. How sometimes, instead of him, it’s Pecher. How I’m back in his office in that restaurant, and other men hold me down as he finished what he started.